Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Weston
M y cock is harder than it's been in ages as I think about my wife in the other room. It hasn't been easy, not paying attention to her, but tonight it's even worse because she was shining so brightly. Rolling over I groan loudly. If I don't take care of this, I won't be able to go to sleep.
Reaching down, I enclose my fist around the engorged length, and begin to stroke.
It's wrong. I shouldn't be thinking of my wife while I do this, but I've missed her. In my mind, I go back to one of the first times we did anything like this.
Flashback
"West, are you sure I'm doing this right?" Melanie asks as she encloses her small hand around my cock. She's got her bottom lip between her teeth. "I want to do this right."
I chuckle softly, reassuring her with a gentle touch on her arm. "Melanie, you're doing just fine," I whisper, lost in the warmth of her touch and the sincerity in her eyes. "This isn't about getting it perfect. It's about being together, sharing this moment."
Her nervous laugh echoes in the dim light of our first apartment, the room filled with the scent of vanilla candles we’d lit earlier. The soft glow accentuates the curly tendrils of her hair falling over her face, and I reach up to tuck them behind her ear. We had both been uncertain, shy even, as we explored each other and what it meant to truly be with someone. Yet, deep down, there was always this undercurrent of trust and intimacy that transcended our clumsy inexperience.
In the present, my body responds to the memory, muscles tensing with a familiar urgency. I let the nostalgia guide my hand, allowing the past to merge seamlessly with the present. I remember her soft sighs, the way she looked into my eyes with such care, and the feel of her resting against me afterward, whispering about dreams and futures.
"West?" Her voice, clear and real, pulls me sharply from the reverie. My heart skips, and I realize she must have heard me groaning.
I stop my stroking and wait for her to speak.
"Are you okay?" There's a note of concern threading through her voice, pulling me out of my solitude and back to the reality of her presence.
Clearing my throat, I draw a steadying breath. The need for connection with my wife, not just physically but emotionally, overwhelms me. "Yeah," I reply, my voice slightly rough but sincere.
"Alright, if you need anything, let me know."
What I need is for her to come in here and finish what I've started, but I know I'm not at liberty to ask for that right now. Who knows if I ever will be again. "Thanks," I manage to push out between my tight throat muscles.
When I'm sure she's gone. I begin stroking again, imagining her mouth wrapped around the head of my cock. My heart is pounding in my chest as the excitement mounts. Knowing that she heard me before, increases the pleasure I get out of this. It's some special kind of torture.
"Fuck," I mumble under my breath. Closing my eyes, I envision her on her knees in front of me, her mouth open to catch my release. "Mel, take it all." And as I stroke quicker, my hand beating up and down, I come all over my stomach. With everything I have, I wish this had been with her.