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Hitting the Reset Button

Husband gets the message to refresh the love life

It was a frank discussion followed by subtle insult and hurt. A weak attempt at make-up sex did little to address the issue.

Our kids were older, two in college and one nearly graduated high school. That latter child was around enough to dissuade us from real sponteneity. There was none. Our sex life had grown stale. But following a week of internal grumblings, I resolved to act.

The youngest was off on a school trip, the others hours away at college. Friday afternoon my arrangements were set. I awaited across town in a corner booth, hopeful.

My wife arrived home after reading my text which listed a simple set of instructions to go to the bedroom and unwrap the set of clothes set on a hanger in the bathroom doorway. White button-down blouse, top three buttons removed in advance by me, black skirt. Black laced bra, push up. Matching panties. Heels. And the peach-colored wig she'd worn the previous Halloween that she seemed to enjoy so much. 

Along with the ensemble came additional written instructions. Make-up of your choosing but I wouldn't argue against smoky eyes.  You have two hours to get ready. Then go to the bar at the Westin. There will be two empty seats, seven o'clock at the end of the bar. Yours will have a glass of Chardonney holding your spot. Oh, and your name is Cherice. 


She was late, but worth it. The bar crowd was light but as she strolled in heads turned. Her eyes were indeed smoky, and sexy as hell. Her lips shined an earthy tone, a close match to her temporary peach hair. I could see the swell of her tanned cleavage inside the loosely buttoned blouse. I felt the familiar surge of electricity pulse through me, like when I felt her skin against mine. 

I was obscure, tucked away in the corner, unseen to her swiveling gaze. Her eyes found the Chardonnay at the end of four empty bar stools. She sat, then sipped. 

I approached unseen from behind as her glass neared empty. "Cherice?" I queried.

"Yes..." she pivoted to face me. "And you are?"

"Enjoying the sight of you," I replied. "I've been eyeing you for some time now."

"Is that right?" She raised an eyebrow.

Her skirt rode high on her legs and I rested my hand on her bare thigh. "You're gorgeous. Such hair..."

"You're rather forward."

"I'd like to have dinner with you."

"Oh really."

"Yes... room service." My hand slid up under her skirt, caressed her inner thigh. I stepped in closer, whispered in her ear. "Right now."


The elevator door closed and I pressed her into the corner, our lips meeting at once. I simultaneously tasted her lipstick, inhaled her scent and palmed her breast as our tongues found each other. Her boob freed easily from the push-up bra and my mouth went to it, teasing her nipple with my tongue before engulfing it with my mouth. "Mmmm," she moaned.

I ascended back to her neck, licking, nibbling and sucking until the chime sounded our floor. I took her by the hand and raced off to my room. Inside I had her blouse and skirt off instantly. She stood by the bed; heels, panties and bra. "Don't move." I stepped back, discarded all of my clothes. Facing her, my cock fully erect, I scanned her head to toe. "You're fucking amazing."

She was on her back now, panties cast aside, front closure bra unclasped, her beautiful round breasts spilled over her chest. Her heels over my shoulders, my face dove to greet her smooth inner thighs. I ran my tongue and kisses all over, north to her boobs then back south to her trimmed bush. Her head dropped back as her fingers went to work on her nipples, my mouth now concentrated at her slit.

Back and forth, deliberate, agonizingly slow. Her hips soon joined in, pacing me. I probed inside, eliciting a moan. I worked her over, up, down, inside and out before my concentration strayed to her button. I reset the pace, slowing things down again with a kiss to her clit. I tongued her gently, then took her in my lips. Her hips rose to meet me as I alternately sucked, kissed and licked her bud. Her moans grew, hips thrusting with greater desire, lusting for my touch. 

Her hands gripped at the sheets, balled in fists. She rose and fell in a frenzied rhythm, bucking, clenching. And then she cried out between hurried pants and moans, the floodgates bursting open. 


She generally needed a brief respite afterward but offered no resistance when I moved her up the bed and mounted her. My cock was granite hard and anxious. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me toward her entrance, ready. I paused on extended arms, taking in the view. The wig remained in place, her smoky eyes at the same time seductive and demure. I never wanted her more. I told her as much before plunging into her.

There would be no patient buildup. I was in, a human ramrod. Her legs pulled me to match my thrusts. The pounding was forceful, met repeatedly with gasps of, "Yes...yes...yes..." Her tits danced up and back on her chest, nipples poked skyward. 

I lowered onto her body, feeling those delightfully full breasts mash against my chest. I palmed the back of her head, my second arm holding her tight. Our lips met, parted, tongues thrashing wildly as we moaned into each other's mouths. 

The climactic rush came hard and fast, both of our bodies tensing as a flood of ecstasy washed over us. I thrust seemingly forever as my cum surged into her, her nails digging into my back, legs squeezing below my ass. I pumped as long as I could before finally coming to a rest, my cheek against hers.

Minutes later, she deadpanned, "So when's dinner?"

"Fuck that," I replied. "Time for dessert."



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