He sat languid on the couch, his long legs stretched out before him. I couldn’t help but notice the shape of his cock right under the zipper to his shorts; it is after all something I would look at when it is just us two. I know that cock.
My husband and he talked most of the night, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. I was surprised that my mind kept wandering to the desire of kneeling between his knees and having him in my mouth. I am conditioned to expect sex when he visits. It felt perfectly natural to want to crawl up and sit astride his lap, his hard cock pressed against me and kiss him as I have before. I remember that cock.
I am certain my blush gave me away a few times. Certainly being denied the opportunity to fuck him that night left me excitable – as always he kissed me sweetly before he left – and the following three days I sort of just let my mind wander through the times we had been together but it also brought on a few more fantasies. I have lost count of how many times I have changed my underpants. I want that cock.