The Gift
By
Passionman
Hannah put her paintbrush down and stood back, admiring her stenciled artwork. She had never thought of herself as much of an artist until Brad came into her life and encouraged her. She had to admit she wasn’t half bad at it now. But at the rate she was going, she’d never have the damn project completed. She glanced down at her watch. It was 10:30 and in another eight hours he’d be getting on a plane and heading home. Sleep nagged at her aching bones and the new Jacuzzi whispered in her ear. She eyed it and gave in, shutting the bathroom door behind her.
It had been Brad's idea to install one and though she’d had reservations about the added expense, she was now quite glad he had won her over. As the room warmed up from the hot steaming water filling the tub, she peeled off her top and tossed it on the floor, smiling at the memory of Brad’s devilish grin as he talked her into it. She could still see the twinkle in his eye as he told her all the wonderful things they could do in there. She wondered what he was doing right now: if he was thinking about her. Her skin prickled at the thought of his hands running down her back.
She removed her bra and ran her fingers lightly over her nipples, raising gooseflesh. She could almost see him, smell him, and feel him there with her. She closed her eyes as her hand drifted down over her abdomen and undid the button to her jeans. They joined her top over in the corner, and a moment later her hand was beneath her panties, sending waves of pleasure through her body. Her mind soared to her favorite fantasy and as she sank into the warm water, she envisioned the door opening behind her and felt Brad’s phantom arm grabbing her and covering her mouth with a broad soft cloth. How she loved the idea of giving up control to him, the feeling of urgency and the lustful need that coursed through her veins.
Gently, but firmly, she saw herself led to the tub and bent over. Her body quivered as her legs were parted and her breath was stolen away as she felt his hands brush the inside of her thigh. The tantalizing caress lasted an eternity until a warm wet kiss lit on her button and traced a long slow path to the base of her spine. Back and forth it went, methodically exploring every fold and crevice.
Her body began to rock, as she imagined herself pushing against his warm mouth sliding up and down her bottom. Every pass brought another shudder, every dart of his tongue, delirium. And then she imagined him turning her around and pushing down the cloth from her mouth, presenting his cock to her. She eyed his thick loving member waving in front of her lips as his hand cradled her head. Firmly, he pulled her forward and her mouth went over and around him. He moaned as he slowly moved back and forth driving deeper and deeper into her willing throat. Her eyes rolled back as he quickened in her mouth. Yes, yes, her mind screamed. Make love to my mouth. Fill me with your need, your desire: give me everything you got right down to your core.
But where she really wanted him was inside her and so she ordered the fantasy as she desired and had him pin her to the floor with powerful hands. His burning mouth seared her lips and his erect member pushed and pried it’s way into her like a fire brand, stretching her insides to their very limits, scratching the unreachable itch. Over and over, he thrust into her until at last she shuddered and fell back against the smooth tiled wall. The vision of him surrounding her body and clutching at her hips remained for a long time. She took the last of her heaving breaths and collected herself, wondering if she should ever tell Brad about her driving need for him to control her like that. It frightened her just a little too much to think that being forced could be so tantalizingly delicious. And she also worried what he would think of it. In her fantasy, Brad was fifty again and still fairly solid, but the reality was, was that he was now sixty-five and a gentle soul, tender in his touch and respectful to a fault. Would he agree to what would be considered tantamount rape of his wife even if she begged for it?
She gazed into the swirling water of the Jacuzzi that was nearly full and its eddies were dashing against each other in a wild frenzy, mirroring her turbid thoughts. Briefly, a year ago, she had entertained acting on the fantasy she’d just had with one her co-workers. He was a foreigner, a grad student from India with short curly black hair. ‘Eye candy,’ her girlfriend Lennie called him. But she loved her husband, and though he had given her permission to act on her desires and needs with other men, she had always backed off. She would never take the chance. Brad was her rock, her one true love and no desire, no matter how fervent was going to jeopardize it.
That, in a nutshell was the problem. She just couldn’t bring herself to act on the permission that had been given her. His words rang in her ears as she sank deeper into the tub. ‘I’m so much older than you sweetheart, and someday I won’t be able to fulfill certain needs.’ Yet, she resisted that reasoning, not so much because she would feel guilty about it, but because she had convinced herself that sex was something she could do without if need be. She had tried to ignore the primal needs of her body as Brad grew older and worked less and less, but now it was becoming apparent he had been right. What was more, she now hesitated to confide in him as she once had about her needs and fantasies. She knew what he would say, ‘go ahead, please take care of yourself,’ and she didn’t want to hear it because it was true. He had over the long course of their marriage, tuned her body like a Stradivarius, and like any great instrument it demanded to be played.
She laid her head back on the edge of the tub and let the jets work at her tired aching muscles. What was she going to do? Everyday now, her body nagged for attention and though her finger, and the vast array of toys, sufficed, they did not satisfy. Her body screamed for hands and legs and fingers pinching nipples and a rigid cock pushing into her. Again, the olive skinned face of the grad student intruded into her thoughts. She had spoken to him now and again when they had bumped into each other in the lunchroom. She liked his mind. It was sharp and thirsty for knowledge. She also knew he was interested in her by the way he studied her when they chatted. He had a subtle warmth and honesty in his gaze. Sometimes she wondered if he knew she was married because of how he looked at her. While it was true she didn’t wear the traditional wedding ring, she had to believe word had gotten around to him. In any case, she knew if she gave him the go ahead he would be at her feet like a puppy panting for a bone.