Home Early

After a week stuck at a business conference for work, I was ready to head home. I was tired of being surrounded by people I worked with and I desperately wanted to sleep in my own bed. Most of all though, I just missed my wife. Our relationship usually did pretty well when work called us away for extended periods of time but for some reason this time had been rough. Partially because she'd been having a tough week at her own work but also because for some strange reason, whenever the two of us were apart, our sex drives went wild. Maybe it had something to do with the old "absence makes the heart grow fonder" thing, who knows. Whatever it was, it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on anything work related.

With a day left before my flight home, I'd resigned myself to suffering in quiet, horny silence when a lucky break came my way. With the conference winding down and our goals accomplished our boss had given us all the go-ahead to change flights and head home early.

To say I was excited would have been an understatement. This little stroke of luck could not have come at a better time. After confirming my new flight I was about to tell Simone the good news when an idea popped into my head. After such a shitty week at work, what if I was able to surprise her by being home a day early? I knew it wouldn't make up for anything in the long run, but it might serve as a temporary bump in her mood. It wasn't everyday I got the chance to surprise her with something like this without lying my ass off.

The next several hours were spent desperately trying to contain my excitement. It took an enormous amount of willpower not to confess to Simone when she said how much she missed me.

As far as travel went, it was about as smooth as could be expected. To my relief, all my flights were on time with little to no hassle. Soon enough I was in my car pulling away from the airport on the road home.

The entire ride home I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow she already knew I would be home early. That I'd walk in and find her giving me a dirty look but smiling all the same. With that expectation firmly cementing itself, I found myself oddly disappointed when I opened the door to our house to find no one waiting for me. It wasn't until I called her name and got no response that I began to wonder if she'd gone out despite it being her day off. Checking the garage, I confirmed her car was indeed parked there before heading back inside to search for my wife.

After confirming she wasn't in any room on the main floor where her home office was located, I headed upstairs. Climbing the stairs I began to wonder if she might have left the house after all. Perhaps she'd had a friend pick her up? It was all I could come up with that would explain how she hadn't heard me tromping through our house during my search. A suspicion that was all but confirmed upon stepping into our bedroom.

It appeared she'd been in search of a very specific item of clothing and had struggled to find it given the state I found the room in. After being married to her for more than a decade, I just shook my head at the mess and chuckled. Since it appeared I'd have to wait to surprise her, I decided a shower would be the next best thing.

Bright sunlight poured into the room, hinting at the fantastic weather that we were having. With that in mind, I began to consider if getting in our pool would be better. I'd yet to use it that year despite being the one who performed most of its maintenance. Debating between my choices, I walked to the window that overlooked out backyard thinking it might sway me one way or another. While confirming that it was indeed a perfect day to make use of the pool, I also discovered I hand't been the only one to think along those lines. Any intention of taking a shower came to an abrupt halt as the answer to my wife's whereabouts became clear. And as excited as I was to see her, I couldn't help but stare dumbly at the exact scene laid out below me.

Sitting propped up in a deck chair with a book in hand was Simone. Which really wasn't much of a unique or enthralling sight given the frequency she did that. What set this scene apart from the multitude of other times she'd read by the pool was the fact that she was wearing what had to have been the smallest, most revealing bikini I'd ever laid eyes on.

Over the years of our relationship, Simone had worn a wide breadth of outfits and styles. Some more risqué then others. Not a single one of those came close to what she wore now in terms of sheer titillation.

Thin strings ran around her body, straining against the press of her soft curves. Small scraps of fabric only just barely hiding her nipples from view. Given how woefully inadequate those tiny triangles of black fabric over her breasts were, it could only assume the same would hold true for the lower portion her outfit. Which, unfortunately, I couldn't quite make out due to a raised leg blocking my view.

As I continued to gawk I began to recall the times I'd tried to get her into something just like that suit. She'd always been adamant about not wanting to "look like a pornstar." An opinion born of a childhood spent within a deeply religious household. It was just one of the many aspects to our early life that we shared to one degree or another.

From an early age we'd been taught to deny our sexuality. To suppress any feelings and turn away from it at every opportunity for fear of supposed damnation. That guilt had carried through long into our adult lives, effecting our marriage in a way that still infuriated me. I hated how often our desires for each other got smothered by thoughts filled with that old shame despite our years of marriage. Even now, standing there and seeing her like that, I felt a familiar sense of guilt rising within me.

I began to worry that she be upset if she knew I was home and hadn't told her. Which led to how she would react if she saw me there, watching her from our bedroom window. Was it wrong to look at my wife of many years with these lustful, leacherous thoughts that filled my mind?

I could have retrieved my phone. It would be so simple just to send her a text explaining that I'd gotten home earlier in an attempt to surprise her. To allow her time to change and meet me without ever knowing what I'd seen her wearing.

The thing was...I didn't want her to know for fear that she would change out of that bikini. That I'd ruin such a wonderfully erotic scene of femininity all because of a misplaced sense of shame. As those thoughts wore away at me I began to grow irritated that they even existed in the first place. Why shouldn't I look at my wife like this? I loved her with all my heart and found her to be one of the most beautiful women in the world. What was so wrong as to cause such feelings of guilt in that?

No matter how hard that guilt hit me, I couldn't bring myself to step away from the window. I refused to out of an act of bitter defiance towards everything that it came from. I refused to shatter that moment and have it be lost forever. All I wanted was to look at her. To relax back into the deep love I felt for her. To gaze down at her body and let myself be filled with unadulterated lust for the woman I loved. I didn't want it to end, I wanted more.

When her hand began to slide down her body, I began to wonder if I'd managed to manifest this out of sheer lustful desire. I watched with wide eyed fascination as her thighs squeezed around her hand, leaving little doubt about what she was doing. My mind tried and failed to reconcile what I was witnessing. Seeing her touching herself so brazenly felt odd. Like it wasn't something I was supposed to see. At least not while she was blissfully unaware of my presence. Even as it chewed within me me, I found taking my eyes off her to be impossible.

Perhaps it wasn't. After a week of unfulfilled longing, followed by a long day of travel, had my mind conjured up some lust fueled fantasy? The sight of her performing such a lewd activity thrilled me despite an ever-present gnawing guilt in the back of my mind. I was determined not to let it take me as it had so often before. That guilt didn't belong in mine or our lives.

Putting her as my sole focus, I imagined the sounds she was making base on how she was moving. The rise and fall of her chest hinted at each deep breath she took. Her mouth falling open on the exhale became a soft moan as her body writhed beneath her gentle touch.

Seeing her like this I began to question some of the preconceptions that had been drilled into me over the course of my life. Wasn't I supposed to be the sex crazed beast in our relationship? The one who couldn't help but touch themselves late at night when he thought no one was watching? If I believe everything I'd been told, yes.

Men were the ones who spent our days dreaming about the naked outstretched bodies of our lovers. That purpose driving us, single-mindedly to want nothing but to touch them. It seemed like all we'd ever been told was that the only reason women had sex was out of a sense of dutiful obligation. An act meant to placate the men in their lives. To appease and satisfy the base urges of creatures barely more than beasts. Women weren't supposed to crave sexual satisfaction!

Despite that claim, I saw only truth in the erotic movements of my wife. Nothing was there but beauty and bold passion, freed from any demands the world had for her. Her breath quickened, as she coaxed herself to further arousal. Her expression twisting in rapturous elation.

This was the part of her that she kept hidden. A side she wasn't able to show anyone, even her husband, for fear that she would be labeled as dirty. An aspect of personality that was shamed and degraded by the world. Slut, wanton whore. Labels forced onto women like my wife whose only crime was that they'd allowed themselves to be the sexual beings they'd been created as.

Her steadily growing arousal stoked my own. I wanted so badly to join her. To take part in this moment of secret, unseen pleasure. My cock had long since hardened. Its length straining to be free. Running a hand over the bulging fabric sent a shiver up my spine drowning out the swirling mass of guilt with a lustful desire for more.

Was this wrong? Would she be repulsed if she learned I'd touched myself in that moment?

The answer continued to elude me as she pulled her hand away from its work between her thighs. Book still in hand, she reached behind her head and gave the strings around her neck a firm tug. While it seemed almost silly that something so revealing was being taken off, it still gave me a thrill to see the suit springing apart. Angry red skin marked where the strings had bit during their struggle to contain my wife's ample bust. An expression of satisfaction descended over her as she turned her attention the to bows on her hips. One seemed to be enough it seemed as once it had been released she didn't reach for its twin. Instead her legs moved apart, spreading out as she tossed the lose end of the suit aside, exposing herself.

With nothing remaining to hinder their movements, her fingers returned to their dance. To swirl and caress those sensitive, swollen places between outstretched legs. I watched, my breath shuddering as delicate fingers curled, disappearing.

An unbidden groan escaped my throat as I became lost in the sight of it all. Any concern for the right or wrongness of watching her melted away as I slid myself free. All thoughts of guilt shoved aside as I bore witness to the divine beauty of my wife's pleasure. I longed to kneel before her, to bury my head between those holy thighs and worship at her alter with song sung on the tip of my tongue. To hear her satisfaction in the rise of her own voice as I took her in my hands...

Heart pounding, head spinning, I forced myself to slow. My mind churned with indecision. Did I reveal my presence or was it best to remain hidden? The only witness to carnal deeds done in secret.

It would be a lie to say I was satisfied with what I'd been given. I wanted more. Mot for myself so much as for her. I wanted her to feel every burning ounce of pleasure she could. To truly give in and let herself be exactly what she wanted without any of the shame or guilt that came along with it.

I wished she could see her as I did. To know the peculiar depths of my obsession with her while we were apart. Oh how magnificent that would be. To show her the truth of what she was to me. How she existed in my minds eye. The state of perpetual desire to be with her no matter the circumstance. I wanted to bare the depths of my love to her so that she would know and understand that it was not just idle words claimed in the throes of passion. It was the truth of what she was to me.

Though my desire to touch such a being as her didn't wain. I knew to do so in that moment would be a desecration. This was her moment and hers alone. Despite my presence, it should only be hers. I continued to stroke myself slowly as the beginning of her end became apparent.

I felt entranced as I watched her book fall forgotten from her hand as her mouth opened, lips parting. The insistent motions of her fingers never ceased as she coaxed herself towards the peak of need. The other hand gripped at her chest. Pushing and pulling. Rubbing and caressing. Pinching and twisting with wild abandon as I could only hope she would in that moment.

Seeing her climax draw closer and closer, I began to stroke faster. Not out of a selfish desire to sate myself but so that I could partake in that moment. I wanted to share that time and space and feeling of release with the woman I loved even if she would never know it had occurred. Matching my pace to hers I held my breath, waiting for the eventuality of it all to come crashing down.

One hand clasped at her breast, its fingers digging into the soft flesh while the other's worked frantically to see the task through to the end. With mouth open and a silent cry caught dangling from her lip the first wave hit her. Back arching, the unmistakable sound of my wife's groaning climax lifted up to my ears. That sweet pained ecstasy enough to trigger my own.

Despite one of us being unaware that the other was even there, the connection I felt in that moment was more than I thought could be possible. The raw, unfiltered nature of her passion leaping up to fill me as well. This was her. Without pretense, obligation, or worry that it was anything but what she wanted or needed.

I stood, breathing heavily for several moments as I regained control of my body. Looking out I could see Simone was in a similar state. An expression of deep, profound satisfaction descending over her.

"I love you." I whispered, turning away from the window. I wasn't sure what she planned on doing next, but I decided to let that be a secret she kept.