Anniversary Retrospection


As Rebecca wakes up, she hears the shower running. Her husband, Dean, has gotten a jump-start on this Saturday morning it seems. She slips on her robe and a pair of socks and pads down the hallway to the kitchen to make coffee. As she passes their daughter’s room, she pulls the door closed so as to allow her to sleep in a little longer since it’s the weekend. With a yawn, Rebecca fills the coffee carafe with water. She wonders why her husband is up so early and then remembers it’s their anniversary. Fifteen years married today, almost eighteen years together. With a sigh, she flips the button on the coffee pot and heads to the living room. She sinks down into a soft chair and stretches her legs out on the ottoman. Yawning again, she closes her eyes and thinks back to the time when they were just dating.

In the movie playing in her mind, they’re in her car, driving down a country road. They had gone out to dinner at their favorite restaurant and were heading back the 50 miles or so to his house. Dean has had a few beers with dinner and she can tell he’s expecting a little more than a good-night kiss tonight. She’s not surprised of course; most of their dates these days end up with at least a slow, leisurely session of lovemaking, if not just an all-out passionate, aggressive fuck. Tonight she’s hoping for the latter. She’s been in a dirty kind of mood all night and she’s not in any way feeling apologetic about it. At 26, she’s no little girl and she knows what she wants. She and Dean met about two years after her divorce was final from a 4-year marriage to a physically abusive, ankara escort philandering husband. After mentally putting herself back together after that traumatic experience, she wasn’t shy about letting Dean know what she expected and what she would and wouldn’t put up with. Tonight she wasn’t going to put up with going home without receiving the sexual gratification she’d been craving all week. She’d put up with demanding clients at work all week, not to mention the lewd comments and innuendo she’d had to endure from her lecherous boss and his friends—but that’s another story for another time…

Dean’s fingers crept under Rebecca’s skirt and traveled up her thigh. She wondered if his fingers could feel the heat emanating off her pussy. She choked back a moan as his fingers came dangerously close to her clit. “Pull, over,” said Dean. Rebecca glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw no cars approaching from behind. She pulled the car to the side of the road and put it in park. “Shut off the engine,” Dean muttered in a voice husky with desire. The authority in his voice caused a twinge of arousal between her thighs.

“What are we doing?” Rebecca asked.

“Let’s get out,” said Dean, and so she opened her door and climbed out of the car. She followed him to the front of the car where he pulled her into an embrace and they started to kiss. As he pushed his tongue into her mouth, his right hand traveled up under her blouse and found her breast. She moaned and arched her back as he roughly squeezed her left breast in his hand and pinched her nipple. Her breasts, though çukurambar escort not overly large, were firm and perky, as well as being extremely sensitive. She had always loved the almost electrical sensations that shot through her body to her pussy when the skilled hands or tongue of a man made contact with her tits. Dean’s left hand was now under Rebecca’s skirt. Her pulled her panties to the side and stroked her clit. Rebecca moaned—she knew she wasn’t far from reaching the release she’d craved all night. “Lay down,” growled Dean. Rebecca groaned and laid back on the hood of her car. The contrast of the heat of the hood and cool air on her bare thighs intensified the aching between her legs. Dean dropped to his knees and roughly pulled down Rebecca’s panties. He tossed them up near the windshield of the car and pushed up her skirt. Rebecca cried out in pleasure as Dean’s tongue made contact with her clit. It was almost more than she could take. “Does that feel good?” Dean asked.

“Mmmmmm……..yessssss…….,” Rebecca hissed as she spread her legs wide and writhed on the hood of the car. She raked her fingers through his hair and ground her pussy into his tongue, eager for the release yet to come.

“You need fucked, don’t you?” he said.

“Mmmmm….yes I do…soooo bad,” I replied.

Dean rose to his feet and unzipped his jeans and let them drop to the ground. “I’m gonna fuck you good. Is that what you need?” he asked.

“You know it is,” Rebecca replied. Dean guided the tip of his cock to Rebecca’s pussy and slowly pushed dikmen escort it in. He slowly pulled it out all the way before quickly pushing it back in, repeating this over and over until Rebecca could stand no more. “Fuck me, Dean! You know how I need it!” That’s all Dean needed to hear. He quickly found his rhythm, slamming into Rebecca’s pussy while rubbing her clit with his thumb. The look of desire in Dean’s eyes sent Rebecca over the edge and she raked her manicured nails down Dean’s back as her body convulsed with orgasm. That’s all it took for Dean to almost simultaneously reach his climax. They held each other for a few moments while they allowed their heart rates and breathing to return to a normal pace. In the distance they saw headlights approaching from ahead. Hurriedly, they dressed and returned to the car and continued on their way to Dean’s home. Rebecca pulled into Dean’s drive and put the car in park. Dean leaned over, pulled Rebecca into an embrace and gave her a kiss. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” Rebecca said with a sweet smile. “Call me tomorrow.” She watched him walk up the sidewalk as she drove away.

“Hey, did you make coffee?” Rebecca startled at Dean’s inquiry.

“Yeah, it should be done by now.”

“Good. Wanna get me a cup? Here’s your card. So, what is it now, fifteen years?”

“Yep,” replied Rebecca. “Fifteen years.”

“Huh,” said Dean. “So, you wanna do it?”

“Okay,” laughed Rebecca. “Just let me go brush my teeth.”

Fifteen minutes later, Rebecca stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, tears welling up in her eyes. Dean was again in the shower, from where he would then dress and head into town for a 12-pack of beer, which he would consume by himself over the next few hours. There would be no dinner out tonight; there hadn’t been in years.

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