20: Tristan.
Five Years Later
Every year, on the anniversary of our impromptu wedding, me and Lia renew our vows. It’s always the biggest party of the year -and it’s happening tonight. If you told me a decade ago that I’d be the kind of man who looks forward to parties, I wouldn’t have believed you. But I have this bright, bubbly little wife that turns everything magical. Which is why, although I’m supposed to wait until tonight to see the venue she’s decorating for the party, I simply can’t wait that long. I want her in front of me now.
A doorman holds open the entrance door of the forty–story building where the party is being held. With a bouquet of roses in my hand, I take the elevator up to the top floor, my dick already hard as nails. God. Five years later and my obsession
with Lia’s pussy has only swelled. I’m horny and territorial and
fascinated with every delicious inch of it. Just thinking about
how wet she gets when I eat her out had me cutting a meeting
short this afternoon to come here, surprise her at the venue.
Since marrying the love of my life, she’s become…my world. There’s no other way to put it. She travels with me, I discuss business decisions with her, we spend our weekends wrapped up in one another and our four–year–old son, Bink. I didn’t know this level of happiness existed and I thank my maker for it every
day. I can’t wait to renew my vows to her tonight. I love
watching her blue eyes tear up every three hundred and sixty- five days, the feel of her mouth on mine afterward. Love hearing her say in front of everyone we know that she’s mine.
Now that her days aren’t spent attending classes, I have a lot more access to her and it’s fucking glorious. I knew she needed some independence–and an education–but sending her off to the university campus every morning never failed to make me jealous. Knowing she’d be around boys her own age led to me pulling her out of class on a regular basis, fucking her on the desk of whichever administrator I’d paid off that day.
Over and over again, she would tell me I’m the only man she’s ever been attracted to, the only man she’ll ever love, until I started to believe it. Hard not to believe her when she’s just as insatiable in bed as I am. When every time she looks at me, her heart is right there in her eyes. But hell if I didn’t love her being
pregnant with my child while attending college. I made sure to take out a full–page in the Times when we married, so everyone would know who she belonged to. Who got her pregnant and
who planned to keep her–always.
Impatiently, I watch the numbers go up on the elevator screen. Halfway there.
I want my wife.
Our son woke up early this morning and she took him out for
breakfast. And I love how she cares for our boy. I spend as much time with him as I can, too–I’m already signed up to coach little league–but his early morning wake–up call meant I didn’t get to bang my incredibly hot wife and I’ve been suffering for it all day.
Finally, the doors to the elevator slide open to reveal the open- air ballroom. Hired staff hustle in every direction, moving tables into place and stringing lights. There are cherry blossoms everywhere. Artificial and real. Candles. Light, airy curtains being carried into the space on a summer breeze. It’s all beautiful, of course. She does an astonishing job every year.
But I want her in my arms. I’ve gone hours without her and the strain is getting to me.
My heart skitters when she dances into view, holding a clipboard. There’s a huge smile on her face as she talks to a pair of female caterers, pointing out items on her list. She’s dressed for yoga in a flowery sports bra and black high–waisted pants that separate her high butt cheeks and my cock wants to weep over the sight. She must have known I was coming and wanted to tease me. She knows damn well that watching her do yoga
turns me into an animal.
Hell, thinking about it does.
I walk in her direction and people lower their voices as they start
to notice me, alerting Lia to the fact that something is up. She
twists around and sees me, pure joy blooming across her face and I almost drop the roses in my hand, I’m so overcome with love and appreciation for her. What would my life be without this girl?
God help me. I’m never going to find out.
“You’re here,” Lia squeals, tossing her clipboard onto the closest table and bounding over, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing up on her toes. Opening her mouth beneath mine and exploring me with her tongue, as usual not giving a flying fuck about who is watching. Our public displays of indecency are well documented by the press, because we can’t help it. When we’re together, we’re the only two people in the room. “I love seeing you so well rested,” she murmurs in between kisses, pouting sexily. “I knew it was a good idea to swap coffee for herbal tea in your office. All that caffeine was bad for you.”
“You always know best, baby,” I say gruffly.
I’m not exaggerating. This girl, it’s almost like her sole mission in life is to care for me. She’s lowered my blood pressure,
cholesterol and stress level at a rate that baffles my doctors. I‘
m still the same weight I always was–and she loves every
pound–but I’m healthier because of her. Have more energy,
more interest in life outside of work, because she makes it all
so fun and exciting and beautiful. I’m the luckiest man on the
planet.
Gently, I tap the bouquet of roses against her butt. “Happy anniversary.”
“Thank you,” she says, playing with the knot of my tie, emotion
swirling in her eyes. “Happy anniversary for making me the happiest girl in the world.” She twists side to side, her lower lip sticking out slightly. “I love my Papa.”
My balls squeeze so tight, I have to suck in a breath. “You know what you’re doing.”
Her gaze is nothing but innocent. “What do you mean?”
“You’re talking to me in your little girl voice,” I rasp, giving in to the temptation to knead her backside, the hell with whoever is
watching. “I’m in need of a fix, Lia.”
“You are?” she purrs, still in that tone that drives me wild. “Well,
it’s a good thing you got here just in time for yoga.”
That four–letter word has my cock thickening in my pants.
“Yeah?”
“Uh–huh.” She nods solemnly, then guides me through the busy
ball room by the tie to a back room. It’s medium–sized, potentially a room used to store coats during a party. But right now, it’s empty, except for a yoga mat and a leather reclining
chair.
“You knew I was coming,” I say, letting her push me down into
the seat, sweat already beginning to dapple my forehead and top lip.
She closes the door and locks it. “I might have had a feeling.” Circling me, she drags her index along my shoulder, removing my jacket and hanging it on the door knob. “You’re always extra hard on our anniversary.”
Jesus, I’m panting just knowing what’s coming. “I’m
remembering the first night I had you in my bed. In our home. How it felt to know you were really mine. Completely mine.”
“I love that,” she whispers in my ear.
And when she comes to stand in front of me again, she’s completely naked.
Except for a little pink, sparkly G–string.
“Oh Jesus,” I groan, widening the V of my thighs and unzipping my pants, my erection growing at a rate that makes me light- headed. “You’re so fucking good to me.”
“It’s just a little yoga,” she says flirtatiously, turning to face away from me and dropping into downward facing dog, that pink
string stretching over her asshole, the material already damp, no
doubt from teasing me. Tongue wetting my lips, I start to beat off, no way to control myself. Especially when she extends one of her legs, lifting it, spreading the lips of her pussy, giving me a
view of her tits in the process.
I came home one day to find her practicing yoga in our bedroom and came in my pants. The next time I found her doing it she was naked and I barely managed to get my cock inside of her before blowing. There is something about the stretching of her limber body, the almost raunchy exposing of the heaven between her legs, between those cheeks, that makes me so hard it hurts. “Do the goddamn thing, Lia,” I beg her now. “Please.”
I hold my breath as she walks backward, still bent over. One leg extends back and settles onto the chair beside my thigh, her ankle sliding back to meet my hip. She performs the same action with her other leg, then perches her knees on the edge of
the recliner. The position is what dreams are made of. Her butt
is just above my jerking hand and she drops down, giving me a
few circles of her hips, stopping right when I begin to moan-
and then she falls forward through the V of my thighs, flattening
her hands on the ground.
No matter what age Lia is, I would have fallen in love with her.
She’s my soul mate–end of story.
But I would be lying if I said there weren’t certain perks that come with being married to a girl fresh out of college. For instance, her generation has a thing called twerking. And she does it for me now, popping her hips and shaking that tight, juicy ass right in front of me, arching her back so I can watch her pussy move, too, watch the juices roll down her flesh and
20: Tristan.
drip into my lap. I have to clamp my teeth together to keep from bellowing my male satisfaction at what she’s doing, the erotic tempo of her jiggling cheeks almost too much to bear. My seed starts to grow sharp in my balls, seeking an outlet.
“Papa?”
I grunt, unable to form words, my gaze riveted on the rosebud of her asshole, my fist rifling up and down my erection.
“Left you something in your pocket,” she purrs in that little girl
voice.
Sweating, my breath sawing in and out, I pat my dress shirt once and find a small object in the pocket. When I reach inside and pull it out with my left hand, I have to twist my balls in my right to stop myself from climaxing. It’s a bottle of lubrication— and Christ, I know what that means. I know this is an invitation she always extends when I least expect it.
“Ah fuck, little girl. Fuck. You’re going to let me in there, aren’t you?” In a surge of lust and adrenaline, I lunge out of the chair and flatten her on the yoga mat, ripping the cap off the bottle of lube with my teeth and pouring the entire contents on her tight, pink asshole. I wedge a middle finger in, making her whimper, her whines growing louder when I add my ring finger, adorned with the gold band of a man who couldn’t be more married. More committed to the girl currently giving him everything. Every part of herself.
20: Tristan.
She lifts slightly beneath me to push a hand down between her legs, moaning as she starts rubbing her clit, a ripple of pleasure going through her back. “Oh. Papa,” she whines, her hips starting to roll, my beautiful goddess of a wife humping her own
hand.
“My God, you horny little doll,” I mutter, guiding my cock to her
back entrance, easing it in gently, the utter clench of the
channel robbing me of sight, of the ability to breathe. “Relax,” I
growl, panting, sweating. “Show Papa how much you love him.”
Her moan is a twisted, audible proof that she loves our games even more today than she did the first time, her fingers clawing the yoga mat. “Your come is your way of getting your love inside me, Papa, right? That’s what you told me.”
“That’s right,” I say raggedly, sinking it to the hilt and listening to her resulting gasp into the mat. “That’s my good listener.”
I grit my teeth and pump once, my balls crushing up between her young, parted ass cheeks. Her hips rock quicker and quicker underneath me and without looking, I know her fingers are busy on her clit–and that she’s close. Her halting whimpers of my name tell me so. Desperate to experience her pleasure, I reach between us and knock her hand out of the way, pumping three thick fingers into her pussy and fucking them in and out, her moisture slicking down my knuckles. “You’re everywhere. You’re everywhere,” she wails, starting to tremble, then shaking violently. “Take it all. Own it all.”
20: Tristan.
“I do own this. All of it,” I growl in her ear, pumping one more time into her ass and delivering my spend, her pleasure
squirting into my hand at the same time, our bodies rutting on the floor like animals, grinding out the pleasure, teeth sinking
into flesh, feet digging into the ground for purchase. Jesus Christ. Every time I have my wife is better than the last and this time is definitely no exception. As wave after wave of relief passes through me, I can only hold on to her, my sweetest treasure, and thank the fates for bringing her to me.
“Five years,” I say in her ear. “Sixty to go, my love.”
And I feel her beautiful smile against my forearm. “My dreams
came true.”
