It's been a while since I posted a story, and I've never posted a contemporary story about my life now on this site before, just long-past reminiscences. But, as it's my husband's and my third anniversary, I thought I'd write about our trip here to celebrate. Hope you enjoy. And, as always, I enjoy your comments on the site and emails with feedback. Thanks in advance, Bill C. - [email protected]
Anniversary Trip - The Marine And The Attorney Start The Celebration Early
I awoke with the familiar feeling of comfort that I'd become used to over more than three years. My husband's hairy, thickly-muscled, corded arm over my obliques, his hand flat against my own furry chest and upper abs. My back was tickled by the soft, short but thick pelt on his chest where his slab pecs rose and receded against my shoulder blades with his steady breathing, his warm breath on the back of my neck. His furry, ridged cobblestone-like eight-pack was warm against my lower back - a reversal of a usual position for us, when I'm usually the one there, behind him, pounding deep . . .
My throbbing morning hardon gave a painfully intense throb as my mind wandered to where it often resides - sex . . . sex with my husband . . . frequent, intense, raunchy sex which leaves the two us sweaty and spent . . . and wanting for more . . . always. Even now, as we approach three years married, three-and-a-half years together, we go at each other like stoats.
I'm not sure how stoats go at it, but I remember a line from a sitcom where a generally up-tight character says something about two people being "randy as stoats", and since the first weekend when I hooked up with Jim, it took context in my own reality. That was it for us - that Memorial Day weekend Saturday afternoon hookup . . . which turned into the entire weekend . . . which turned into months together . . . and then a proposal that knocked me off my feet . . . and then turned into my life.
My husband's enormous hardon had somehow become snaked between my thighs and through my legs, trapped to my delight. My big, sweaty balls hung to the side of the near-end of his shaft, whether pushed aside when we arranged ourselves together or not I didn't know, but I swear I could feel his pulse in my sac. And my own pulse in my own throbbing fuckrod, now dominating my thoughts' direction.
My hand was over his, my fingers interlaced loosely but very much together, our forearms warm against each other and slightly moist from our sleep. I really wanted to reach down and tease his bulbous cockhead there, just below and beyond my own cock, but I'd have had to let go of my hug-hold on his arm which was hugging me against him. So instead I squeezed my strong quads and abductors around his cockshaft and felt his body respond just slightly with a press harder into my back and a tighter hold on my torso. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, nice!
I was in two places - a near reverie of enjoyment of the burgeoning morning, of it being another day in a wonderful life of a kind I'd never allowed myself to even dream of; and the urge that had become a need to enjoy the pleasures of my husband's body in the way we seemed to spend an excess of our time doing. I decided to do it just that way, working his cock between my legs with my upper leg and butt muscles, enjoying my own cock throb with the pressures of my movement and enjoying his responses, still in sleep but his own reactions becoming almost imperceptibly urgent. I didn't know how long I'd be able to be that patient - my cock was certainly making its case to speed things up!
As I was thinking that, Jim's left arm snaked under my head and over my left shoulder as his teeth found the nape of my neck and nipped. His grip was tight now with both arms, his left hand on my right pec and tweaking my hardening nipple, and he pressed his groin into my ass and then withdrew, beginning to pump his cock between my thighs. "MMMMMmmmmgggggggrrrrmmmmmmmmm," he growled just behind my ear and then bit my earlobe in case I hadn't gotten the point.
"Morning," I responded, now releasing his hand and reaching down to rub his drooling cockhead.
"FUCK!" he hissed as his body shuddered under my touch. "I'm so fuckn close already!"
A bolt of excitement shot through me knowing that my husband was that horny, I'd gotten him that far that quickly. "Someone didn't get enough last night," I chuckled with a hitch in my speech pattern, trying to not just lose it and attack him.
"I never get enough of you," he rasped and then bit my neck HARD. "Either stop that or I'm seriously going to blast my nut," he warned me urgently.
"Good, then I'll have plenty of lube to fuck you," I told him and increased the pressure of my hand on the last inch of his shaft and his huge, slick cockhead.
And that did it. "AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccckkkkkkkkk!" he groaned into my neck, his body tense as a board and then breaking into convulsive shudders as his cock began to throb violently and, finally, sprayed his always-heavy load.
I quickly got both hands over his spurting head and caught an amount of his thick, hot seed that would make any porn star jealous. I also made sure I held his cock tight between my hyper-flexed thighs and rubbed his engorged cockhead in my cummy hands, making him shudder and spasm and begin to make squeaking sounds as I increased, not decreased, the pressure on his over-sensitized head.
Finally - but what was really just moments later - he shoved me forward almost violently and yanked his slimy cockhead through my thighs and free. "JESUSFUCK!" he exclaimed, still shuddering. I was up and around and off the side of the bed, yanking his legs around so that his ass was at the side of the bed, then his legs were up and I was smearing his cum into his still-moist, still-slightly-swollen fuckhole, three fingers shoved inside him, greasing him good. "OH FUCK YES!" Jim moaned, flailing his arms at my ass and legs, trying to pull me closer.
And then I lined up and SHOVED my raging fuckbone into that barely-ready but always wanton cunt of his and went balls-deep as he let out a long shout that turned into a long growl. Jim's legs snapped around my waist, his heels kicking my lower back hard, and he ground his ass up onto my cock, grinding my pubes into his taint, taking every inch of me inside him.
I couldn't have held back if I'd wanted to. The only thing that kept me from blasting right then, feeling the exquisite fire of his fuckchannel and seeing his painful desire, was that I hadn't touched my cock, nor had he. I began to pump into him hard, mercilessly, my hands clamped on his waist pulling him into each savage thrust. "This is what you wanted. SAY IT!" I ordered, the last in my sharpest command voice, a remnant of my nearly three decades in the Corps.
"GODYES!" he gasped.
"SAY IT!" I repeated, even more forcefully, my cock drilling him, causing his body to jolt with every thrust.
"FUCK ME!" he roared, his eyes locked with mine.
"TELL ME!" I rasped, now fully caught in my body's rhythmic pounding.
"I NEEEEEEEEEEED YOUR COCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!" he cried. "I WAAAAAAAANT YOUR SEEEEEEEEEED! FILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
It wasn't going to be that easy, and he knew it, counted on it. And he worked it as hard as I did, deathgrip on my arms for leverage with his strong hands, leg-locked around my waist, matching me thrust for thrust, grinding, thrashing as my long-dicking pummeled his prostate.
"OHFUCKYESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" I shouted, as he increased the intensity of the way he was clenching his cuntmuscles around my fuckbone, milking me harder, showing me what he wanted with every clench, thrust and jolt.
"GOD your FUCKING COCK feels like a lead fucking pipe you're so fucking HARD!" he exclaimed with a grimace. I took it for the expression of appreciation it was and jammed myself harder, more urgently home with every thrust and increased my pace, too. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh holy fuckn goddddddddd," he hissed, and I felt his body go taut again, seeing his massive, veined cockshaft straining again, his head again purple and flared, engorged. And then his head thrashed from side to side, and he bucked and flailed his arms about as he shot another huge load hard, arcing up and onto his face and chin and drenching his darkly-furred pecs and those amazing washboard abs of his.
The added gyrations of his fuckchannel spasming around my cock, along with the pride and ecstasy of feeling him cum from my fucking, pulled me over the edge. I thrust brutally into him, and he reflexively clamped his heels into my butt and held me in as I began to pump out my seed. "AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" I cried as blast after blast of my spunk blasted through my cock and flooded him.
He hissed from the feel of my cum stinging his ravaged channel, but his eyes were rolled back in clear ecstasy . . . or accomplishment!
When I could exercise a bit of control over my body again I bent down and licked a swipe up from his abs to the cleft between his pecs to his neck, savoring his cum and the tickle of his fur on my tongue, slurping it, inhaling the exquisite aroma of our sweat and sex. I knew he expected me to continue, for my tongue to find its way up over his strong, stubbly chin and to kiss this man I loved more than I knew it was possible to love another person. But instead I stood, roughly pulled myself out of his slimy fuckportal to a loud gasp from him at my roughness, yanked his legs up so that his ass was up high and plunged my face into his gaping, cum-sloppy ass.
I ate my husband with abandon, knowing that even the rough fucking I'd delivered hadn't endangered my enjoyment of his always-pristine cunt. How he managed that I had no clue . . . but I appreciated it. I licked, sucked, slurped and all the while he moaned and gasped. I loved making him crazy with pleasure.
Finally he barked, "Give me your fucking cock!" and I knew he wanted to clean me up.
With a final loud slurp I left my feast and pulled him up and smothered his lips with mine. We kissed that way, our juices smeared and shared, his arms now around me but his legs wrapped around my legs and intertwined, too, my arms tight around him. I pulled back. "No time. We have to get to the airport."
"Dang!" my ex-Ranger husband swore, in about the most extreme oath he used . . . when we weren't fucking.
Then I looked at the digital clock by the bed and swore myself when I saw the time. "FUCK!"
Wish a truly inviting grin he replied, "Even better!"
"NOOoooooooo!" I shot back. "The taxi is picking us up in ten minutes!"
"Taxis wait," he grinned at me lasciviously, holding me fast with his legs as I tried to free myself so that we could GET MOVING!
"Planes don't," I shot back.
"We could always call off the taxi, take our time this morning and then drive up," he offered, still grinning invitingly at me, adding an eyebrow waggle.
"How about this," I countered, pulling him, trying to get him off the bed. "We shower - FAST - and stick to our mission as planned."
"And if I agree?" he prompted, with a different grin now, the what-are-you-going-to-give-me-for-agreeing grin I knew very well.
I knew exactly what I'd give him. ANYTHING he asked . . . always. But this was a fun game, like lovers' poker, and we both enjoyed playing it. "C'mon," I urged, pulling him up off the bed so we were both standing, me moving backward toward the bathroom but maintaining eye contact, pulling him along with me. "You know we'll COME up with something," I smirked, leaving it at that.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Is it my imagination or are the airplane seats getting smaller?" Jim complained, shifting his ass back more, trying to get enough room so that his knees didn't hit the bulkhead in front of us.
How we'd made our seven forty-five a.m. flight that morning, I still didn't know how we'd managed, but we had. The taxi had shown up right on time, we'd been a few minutes late - thankfully we'd packed the night before, so it was just those few minutes, we'd taken the train from the station in town and we'd hurried through Baltimore airport but still boarded with the first group. I was glad we'd made our place - my in-laws and step-son were excited we were heading up for the week of our wedding anniversary, the week before my mother's wedding, which was being held there in eight days. "Wait until we get the puddle jumper to the island," I warned him playfully.
"Oh, I sort of changed those plans," he told me, his look telling me what was coming.
"They're taking the ferry and driving in to pick us up?" I teased him, knowing that wasn't it.
"Now don't be angry," he warned me.
I took a deep breath, knowing for certain that one of two things was what he was going to tell me. Either he'd allowed his parents to have their JET - their fucking JET, which expanded our carbon footprint to titan proportions - be brought to Providence to take us to the island or . . . "The helicopter?" I asked, hoping for the lesser of the evils of conspicuous consumption.
"You're not angry?" he asked, as I heard the ding and in another track of my brain heard the flight attendant making an announcement, I vaguely processed using laptops or something.
I knocked my shoulder against his. "How much would you rather I'd given in to them sending the jet to Annapolis for us?"
"So you're not angry about the helicopter?" he asked again, looking at me expectantly, ignoring my question about how I'd dragged him down from his former standard of luxury travel courtesy of his wealth and that of his parents.
I just chuckled and knocked my shoulder against his again. "I'm about to spend nine days on vacation with the people I love most in my life and to celebrate my mom's wedding. Of course I couldn't be angry about anything, even the imminent demise of the planet."
His gorgeous smile spread across his handsome face, melting me, as it always did. And then it morphed into an evil grin. "Good. Because I've thought of the quid pro quo for dragging me out of our bed," he told me.
"Oh?" I asked, my nuts tingling at the possibilities, knowing my husband's delightfully lascivious proclivities.
He gave a quick look to the side, across the aisle, then took my hand and pulled it into his lap. HARD AS A FUCKING LEAD PIPE . . . AGAIN! "How about we renew our membership in the Mile-High Club?" he asked expectantly, his eyebrows waggling at me.
My own cock lurched in my shorts. FUCK YES I WANT TO! was what I wanted to shout, but it was broad daylight and we were in a plane, though it wasn't packed, I thought quickly, calculating the odds of us -- "Fuck yeah!" I found myself saying, looking up to see that the seat belt sign was still on. FUCK!
I gave his raging bone a squeeze, and he hissed out a protest. "Let's save that for the lav, so I don't have a mess here. That a plan, Marine?"
I laughed and rubbed his bare leg by his knee teasingly. "Is that too much? You seem to have a hair trigger this morning, Counselor," I teased, running my long fingers up under the leg of his shorts . . . but not too far.
"Not my fault," he protested with an innocent smile. "You see, I have this stud for a husband, who-" He was interrupted by the ding that accompanied the seat belt sign going off. "C'mon!" he urged, starting to get out of his seat, pulling me with him.
I will cop to not even giving a second thought to anyone looking at us by that point - and at over six-four and just under six-six, we were hard to miss, so what would the point have been otherwise - as we stepped into the aisle, then up to the lav past the flight attendant in the little galley and both jammed inside. I could barely turn to reach the lock on the door, the space was so small . . . and we weren't exactly compact, as I mentioned.
I'd turned back around and was about to unbuckle and unzip him when he sat down on the tiny commode and did that to me. "OH, NO! Your nuts need another draining - you're one behind me this morning," he told me, and just like that, despite being crouched over, my head over against the slanted side of the plane, he was sitting, bent over and had me in his mouth, hoovering me with his usual aggressive enthusiasm.
"OH GOD YES!" I hissed, as quiet as I could be, which wasn't very, when he took my nuts in his hand and began to work them roughly like he knows sets me off. In return I began driving my hips forward, pushing deep into his mouth, shoving my fat cock deep and deeper until my huge, flanged head popped into his throat.
Jim gave a satisfied groan as I jammed my pubes into his nose and began pumping his mouth. "MMMMMM HMMMMM MMMMMMM," he groaned in time to my thrusts, his throat vibrating, stretched around my head and a few inches of my shaft. His work on my nuts increased, and his other hand was on my ass pulling me in as I continued to pump in and out.
My husband gives the best head of anyone I've ever had blow me. Not only does he LOVE the dick, he can deep throat my nine-plus THICK - as he said, "impossibly thick" - inches from a couple of angles, a feat he'd mastered during our first weekend together. And he can give my entire shaft a lick-job as he does it, licks my nuts when they start to pull up tight, too, doesn't just struggle not to die from esophageal implaement. Amazing.
And amazing as it was in the 737's tiny, cramped lav - being inside a dog cage would have given us more room to maneuver! - I got lost in it, clamping my hands on his head and skull-fucking him with abandon. I hadn't realized I was growling as loud as I was until he reached up with the hand he'd had on my ass and clamped it over my mouth. I almost laughed, but he yanked my nuts HARD to remind me where my head should be . . . the OTHER head, in that case! . . . and I got lost again in the agonizing pleasure of him sucking me toward the edge.
"MMMMNNNNNNGGGGGG MMMMMMMMMMMM," he was moaning, sucking, licking, slurping and all the while giving my nuts a manly workout. He sucked hard . . . and he grappled my nuts hard, and I felt myself skyrocketing.
"OHFUCK HEREICUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" I gasped as my insides erupted into a precipitous explosion of such epic intensity that I just whimpered and held onto his head as I began to blast my nutwad. My cock was lodged in Jim's throat, my pubes ground into his face, his nose quite possibly broken - but at the time I didn't notice anything other than my nuts erupting and my body and being shattering from the inside out.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!" he moaned with satisfaction, his throat working my cock as he swallowed. He forced his head back enough so that my cockhead was again up in his mouth, and he savored the end of the flow. He swirled his tongue around my head until I couldn't stand it and hit my head hard on the ceiling of the lav trying to get away from him. Tough feat when he had me by the nuts . . . still . . . and besides, the tiny enclosure gave me about three inches of room to work with!
"Switch . . . places . . . with . . . me!" I gasped urgently, desperately wanting to give him as good as he'd given me, my entire focus awash with carnal ecstasy and not wanting it to be over.
Jim laughed and steadied me with a hand now flat on my groin, pushing me back a little more. He snatched a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped my cock and then his face. Patiently, he fended off my advance. "No, babe. It's a short flight and someone else might need the restroom. Believe me, what you just gave me is exactly what I wanted!" and the way he accented the "I" and the lascivious way he ran his tongue over his lips and then bent down and gave my still-flared cockhead a kiss and a lick-swipe with his tongue made a bolt of excitement flash through me.
I was painfully hard, still. And so was he, I could see it in his shorts. But a deal was a deal, and that's what I'd made earlier. AND . . . we would no doubt be doing plenty more SOON and through our week away. "No fucking fair!" I whimpered lamely, standing without moving. I could also see that there was an obscene wet spot radiating from the bulge of Jim's cockhead bulge in his shorts. Oooops.
Jim reached out and began to dab me again, making sure it was safe to stuff me back inside my shorts. We were both commando, so at least one of us should not leave the restroom with a huge wet spot from precum. He was not that one, as I looked down again where his monstrously long cock had been trapped in his shorts leg. The size of the wet spot was about the size of a salad plate. IMPRESSIVE, but AWKWARD.
Fortunately the wet spot, along with Jim gently wrestling my still-hard fuckpole back inside my shorts and zipping me up all caused the intensity of my desire to be distracted enough so I could pull myself together a little, and my desire was tamed just a bit. Jim stood up and pulled me close - which was really not necessary since we were both stuffed into the space which had barely enough room for one person smaller than either of us! - and he kissed me hard. Somehow he kept his groin detached from me, and he also abruptly pulled away before I got too heavy going again and had a mess in my own shorts . . . because my cock certainly wanted more. "I love you," he declared, his stare intense into my eyes. And then, "And not just because of your huge cock and what a stud you are," he added, managing to not break into a laugh until the last two words.
I grinned at my husband. "Right back atcha, STUD," I told him with a smirk that he should have known meant this wasn't over.
"You go. I'm going to try and dry up a bit . . . down there," he told me with a bit of embarrassment.
I opened the lav door and stepped out quickly, the door shutting and the lock engaging behind me as Jim slid it home again. Which, over the loud hum of the jet's engines wouldn't have been so bad except for two things. First, there was a another passenger leaning against the galley bulkhead waiting for the lav. Second, my eyes caught the flight attendant, arms crossed in the tiny galley inset, doing his best to give me a stern, disapproving look but really coming off more as a catty-snarky smirk. I reinforced my posture, not caring that my head brushed the ceiling of the plane's cabin, and said, to both of them, with a smile, "He'll be out in a minute," and squeezed by the man waiting for the lav and returned to my seat.
When my husband returned about two minutes later, he said, "That was awkward."
I gave him a "fuck them" look and leaned in and kissed him again.
"Do you need to rehydrate?" the flight attendant's voice interrupted us, asking in what was a decidedly snarky, slightly queeny voice.
I opened my eyes before letting my husband break from our kiss and looked over his ear at the flight attendant leering down at us. When I was satisfied that he was sufficiently jealous I said simply, "That would be great, thanks. Water - no ice. We're not ready to cool down too much just yet."
When he was gone, Jim said, "Okay, awkward times two . . . and of course it doesn't faze you one bit. You just steer into it." He was laughing and grinning at me - he loved that about me . . . and loved to rib me about my bawdy brazenness.
"You two are too much!"
That was a far more masculine voice, amused, from across the aisle. A very handsome couple - middle aged, somewhere between our parents' age and ours - were there. It was the man who had said that, and he was looking at us with a genuine grin on his face. "Damn, I overshot again," I replied to him. When he looked momentarily perplexed I added, "I always try to be JUST enough, not too much!"
His face broke into a laugh, and his handsome wife looked around him, at us, also smiling. I was vaguely aware of Jim's eyes rolling. "I tried to tell him to mind his business. I'm starting to think he's," and she air-quoted and accentuated, "CURIOUS."
Our turn to look surprised. We both thought the same thing, giving each other a glance, but neither of us was sure she meant that or even knew what it meant. The husband gave a head cock toward her and said, "She's just jealous it was you two in there instead of us."
"I'm telling you," she said, giving a knowing nod of her head behind her husband, "I'm pretty certain it's HE who is jealous!" Oh yeah, she meant exactly what we were thinking!
"Stop it, Harry," the husband admonished.
Harry? WTF! I thought.
Continuing, to us, he said, "We're Don and Harriet, by the way. She doesn't like Harriet, so she goes by Harry because when I tried to call her Etta, she about beat my ass."
"You wish!" Harry jumped in.
"Are you two vacationing up east? We're on our way home from our grandson moving into the dorm at Johns Hopkins," Don added proudly, not having missed a beat as the result of Harriet's naughty interruption.
This loosened Jim up a bit after his feeling of awkwardness, I guess, and he explained where we were going, why, gave our names, told them about his parents, about my mom's wedding . . . I tuned out . . . and let my thoughts return to plotting how to get some more pleasure with my husband.
As we were exiting the plane, Don and Harry wished us well again. They were a nice couple, with great senses of humor and obviously enjoyed their life together. I'd momentarily contemplated inviting them to my mother's wedding, but it was only a passing thought, which I let pass right on.
The flight attendant gave us a conspiratorial wink with his "Hope you enjoyed your flight" spiel as we passed. I couldn't help but to say, "More than you did, I bet!" which left him looking like he didn't quite know how to react.
"Come with me," I ordered Jim as we exited the jetway, making a beeline for the men's restroom in the terminal.
"I can wait out here," he said casually, stopping as we got to the door. "I have to call Eric anyway."
"No, you may NOT wait out here!" I corrected him firmly, and I propelled him into the men's room and then took the lead and pulled him into a handicapped stall.
"What?" he sputtered. "We're-"
"You know exactly what WE'RE going to do," I shot after slamming the stall door and throwing the bolt. I turned and in a continuous move began unbuckling his shorts, yanking them down to his ankles and shoving him around to face the stall wall.
I got no more protest. Jim bent over and put his hands against the stall wall flat, pushing his bare, furry bubble butt out at me and twerking it a bit, enticingly. If I hadn't already regained my hardon on the walk from the gate to the men's, I'd have been instantly at attention again just seeing that beckoning, furry pleasure portal.
I had my own shorts around my ankles and awkwardly got into a crouch behind him and went in hard, face first. "OH HELL YES, BILLY!" he moaned as my tongue swirled his slightly sweaty but still soap-scented pucker. When I unceremoniously penetrated him with my tongue - deep as I could and swirling inside him - he was panting, trying to be quieter, "OHFUCK OHFUCKYES!" and grinding back into my face.
I ate him and savored him and savaged him until I was pretty sure I'd dripped a pool of precum on the floor, knowing that having gone to my knees my shorts were safe around my ankles behind me, out of the way of my flow. I knew he had leaked a ton, too, because I'd been working the head of his cock with one hand and had a handful, ready for use as lube. I got to my feet and smeared his hole, running two then three fingers roughly into him as he grunted in painful appreciation. With my other hand I smeared my own pre over my cock and greased it, then got in position and SHOVED into him without a wasted moment.
"GOD YES!" he hissed, pushing back hard against me, clenched TIGHT around the length of me.
There was no acclimation, no waiting, just THRUSTING, as I took what I needed and FUCKED my husband. It was deep, and it was rough, and it was fast . . . I aimed well and pushed him up to his edge, knocking his prostate, and kept on pounding as he went over that edge and then felt myself pulled into the spiral upward toward my own release by the spasming and clenching of his fuckchute as he splattered the stall wall with his always-huge load. I filled him, blasting seed out in pumped volume as if I hadn't already had my tanks drained a few times that morning, and then fell against him, sweaty inside my shirt, feeling him feel the same, his back hot and his neck soaked with sweat against my face. "Goddamn I fucking needed that!" I panted.
"You are SUCH a fucking stud," he proclaimed, getting his breath.
I admit it made my nuts tingle and my cock throb whenever he said something like that, and my chest involuntarily puffed out in pride. "No, babe, YOU are the STUD!" I told him with honest appreciation. "Before you I'd never met anyone who could take cock like you do . . . AND make me cum so much, so hard, so often."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he chided playfully, nuzzling his sweaty head against my face. "Good thing you're an amazing fuck to back all that sweet-talk up. Now can we call Eric and get to the island, please, so my folks and our son don't think we've been having airport sex and that's the reason we're delayed?"
"Your parents and Perry are well beyond any illusions about us," I told him, honestly, pulling out of him abruptly, feeling him wince as my head popped free of his still-clenched fuckring.
"DAMN!" he spat. Then he reached for the toilet paper, and I thought he was going to clean himself up, but he again, like he'd done on the plane, made sure I was tidied up first. "No point both of us looking like total pervs when we get there. I'm a lost cause already," he said, reaching down and pulling up his shorts so that the huge wet spot was still on display.
"I'm sure there's a men's room in baggage. We can get our luggage and slip in and change THEN call for the pilot," I suggested.
"Oh, right," he exclaimed with mock exasperation, pulling up my shorts but not buckling them, leaving that to me as I took them from him. "I can see that now . . . By the time we finish in THAT men's room, because it won't be changing clothes we're doing, I am certain of that you horndog, and then finally call Eric, THEN stop again at the men's room in the helipad terminal here, and then stop again at the men's room on the island, we'll be hours late, all our shorts will be soiled . . ." he trailed off.
"And you'll be unable to walk!" I finished, joking and swiping lovingly at his ass. "But I like the way you think, my husband. I may keep you around until our next anniversary!" I told him, opening the stall door and getting us on with our trip.