Returning Home - A Love Story

My driver was waiting in the reception area at the airport, just out of the Customs. He helped me with the large bag I used for my two week trip to Europe. He set the large bag and my small laptop carrier in the trunk. The elegant gift-wrapped large box I carried with me.

I settled in the leather back seat. On the other seat there was a large bouquet of camp flowers my wife's favorite.

"I took the liberty of purchasing the flowers," said my gray-haired driver.

"Thank you, James." I looked at the traffic outside the blackened windows while the limo sped silently and effortlessly on the highway.

When we arrived, I grabbed the flowers and the gift box and entered my home. My wife was there offering her rosy lips to mine. My small dog was there as well with his favorite toy ready to be tossed for retrieval. He could smell or guess that I was arriving before the car was near.

First things first. I took the offered lips for the kiss lovers exchange after long absence. Only after we emerged for breath I gave her the flowers and the gift and then attended to the jumping Shih-Tzu. While she was busy setting the flowers in a large vase I threw the toy three or four times until the dog happily jumped on his favorite arm-chair to munch the toy. He knew my attention would be wholly directed to my wife.

"You didn't forget." She stated the fact. How could I? The only reason I included Belgium in my trip was to visit that very special chocolatier who made the best blend of dark chocolate candy. We visited his shop on our honeymoon and my wife fell in love with those delicate aromatic chocolate jewels. Whenever I could, I returned there on my trips and purchased large boxes of her favorite candy.

My wife tried to teach me how to appreciate the candy. How to recognize the distinct flavors, how to taste the intricate nuances clear to educated palate but lost on my insensitive buds. The fact that I never learned how to appreciate the chocolate didn't diminish my extreme pleasure at watching my wife delighting herself with one of the exquisite candies. How her pink tongue tasted it first, then her white teeth gave it a few nibbles, a ritual as complex as wine lover's one.

To appreciate the rich flavor of chocolate wasn't the only thing my wife tried to teach me.

After appreciating the candy, she took my hand and led me to our bedroom. The steaming bath was ready. I took my clothes off, and got into the tub ready to wash away the weariness of a long trip. But I didn't linger. In five minutes I entered the bedroom and there was my wife, reclining on the coverlet, waiting for me, wrapped in her soft and alluring negligée.

She was beautiful. The years colored her hair with silver, her face acquired a few wrinkles and her breasts showed the signs of three pregnancies, but her eyes never lost that special sparkle I loved, her mouth was always ready to smile and kiss and her skin marked here and there with age spots, had the downy feeling of youth.

After we kissed, she lay face down with her creamy soft buttocks exposed yet covered by sexy sheer panties ready for attention. I caressed them and kissed them but I knew what she wanted.

A few years in our marriage she let me know that she would like me to spank her. Not beat her, but lovingly spank her. It was her thing. She got excited by the thought of a strong lover dominating her, submitting her and draping her over his knees, lifting her skirt and lowering her panties to give her buttocks a rosy color with the palm of his hand.

I couldn't understand her desire, but I loved her, so along the years during which we raised three kids, I learned to give her what she wanted.

As with the chocolates, my palate wasn't into it, but as with chocolates, I learned to share with her those special moments where my compliance was her delight.

At first I was afraid of hurting her too much, but under her patient guidance I progressed steadily not only to apply the palm of my right hand to her rebounding bottom, but also to a few chosen implements: a slipper, a light paddle and a soft flogger.

I started with my palm as always. Slowly at first, testing her flesh, then faster and harder. After so many years I learned how far I could go judging by the color of her bottom, her sighs and moans and also from how hot and itchy my palm would become.

Her moans and sighs mixed with the slaps of my hand. When our children lived with us I had to soundproof our door afraid that they would find out the strange rituals their parents practiced in the bedroom. Now that we lived alone with our dog we could leave the door ajar without fearing discovery.

My erection had no relation with the spanking I was applying. It was due to the long abstinence, her round bottom, supple thighs and the fact that I loved her very much. I stopped the spanking, but she asked for more. So I grabbed a slipper and used it on her smooth pink derriere, alternating between one cheek and another and sparing a few swats on the tops of her thighs which were even more sensitive.

Her moans got more urgent; my need grew as well, until she turned to face me and asked without words to be taken.

I dropped the slipper and entered her until there was no space between us, but skin rubbing against hot skin. At some point we inverted and it was her on top, leaning on my chest, seeking my lips while my hands slid down her back reaching a pair of hot cheeks caressing the globes until both of us came in one single orgasm.

She looked in my eyes and said: "We arrived, Sir."

I opened my eyes and looking into the worried ones of my old driver, I said, "Thanks, James, it won't be long."

With the box against my chest and the flowers in hand I walked along the path, in the shadow of tall trees on both sides, slow wind rustling the leaves. At the end of the alley I deposited the flowers in the stone vase and left the delicate gift I brought all the way from Brussels on the cold marble. I said a little prayer not to any god I know but to her, asking her forgiveness for not being yet with her whenever she was. Probably playing with our small dog that left me after less than a year of her death.

Then I returned home. To my empty home and empty nights until my next trip to buy that exquisite gift.