Intimacy - With a Presence

Our date, our overnight getaway, time for just the two of us, a museum, a romantic dinner, alone after. Time to connect and enjoy.

Shadowed by a presence we couldn't escape.

Not overbearing, but there, aware of it, aware it colored things, impacted things, a soft shadow, strong by how quiet it was.

He texted us on Friday. "I want you two to have a nice time," he said. "I like that you're connecting emotionally."

Emily and I were together, packing, when we both got the text. "Go on," she said.

"What?"

"You can answer first."

"Me?"

She nodded. "You," she said. 

I thought, typed. "Thank you," I started, "we've been looking forward to getting away." I showed it to Emily. 

"You should say something, don't you think?" she said, smiling. "He'll like it."

I knew what she meant, swallowed, knew she was right, added to my response. "Thank you, we've been looking forward to getting away and I think we'll remember all weekend who we belong to."

Em nodded, I sent it.

"I'm counting on it," he said. "Behave."

"We will," I said.

I set my phone done, started to finish packing. I heard a ding, looked at my phone, realized it was just Emily's. I saw her reading, smile, knew he was texting her something. "What?" I asked.

She looked up. "He just told me to have a good time, that he'll be sending me something this week, and..." She paused.

"And?"

"And that we need to plan our next trip." She smirked.

"Emily!"

She laughed. "What?"

"Is he going to send the keys back just to turn around and have you send them right back?" I asked with a frown, since we agreed once they plan a trip, he'll hold the keys again.

"We won't finalize anything right away," she promised. "I want to hold the keys for a bit." There was something in my eyes, clearly. "I know you don't assume just because I'll have the keys back that I'll be using them, right?"

"I...I know," I said, my look betraying my hopes.

"Sara, Sara, Sara," she laughed.

**********

The weekend was as we hoped, as we planned, as we needed. Day and night.

After dinner, Emily laid out lingerie she'd brought, but I asked for something else.

"What?"

"I have candles and massage oil," I said.

"Sara, you know what that's going to do to you," she looked at me.

"I know, Emily, I know," I said, well aware an hour plus of massaging coconut oil into my wife's naked body would put me into a state of unimaginable erotic frustration.

I spent close to an hour just massaging her, not touching her sexually, just erotically, just tenderly. But as she predicted, within minutes, I felt pressure in my cage, a buildup I knew would go unsatisfied.

So I poured some of that frustration into the massage, brushing her lips, moving away, coming back, brushing again, teasing her, not overtly, but softly, slowly, gently, working her up then moving away. Eventually, she started raising her ass, trying to make my fingers slip into her, but I kept pulling away, teasing her, as she teased me. 

Eventually, though, sexual desire overcame my desire to tease her, and slowly, with each stroke of her ass and between her thighs, I let my fingers get closer to her wet pussy, until I started pushing into her.

I lost track of how many times she orgasmed, dozens from my fingers, dozens from my mouth, more orgasms in a few hours than I'd had in years.

At one point, we were kissing as I fingered her and she whispered to me. "I wish I had the keys," she said.

"W...why?" I asked.

"Because I'd unlock you and let you put it inside me," she said, touching me.

I think I passed out for a second, it had been so long since I'd been inside her, since I'd squirted inside her. I couldn't remember the last time I actually fucked her, like literally have no memory, but I remembered the last time I put it in her. The warmth. The wetness. Just holding still, within a minute squirting without even moving.

"God, Emily," I said, my voice hoarse.

"We can't though, can we?" she said. "We can't because we belong to him, we can't because he won't allow it."

I was leaking; she saw it, moved so what leaked dripped onto her wet pussy. She moved again, whispered. "Lick me clean," she said.

I did, eagerly.

I was awake for some time, long after she fell asleep. Awake, looking at her, awake, listening to her breath, awake, touching her, awake, feeling the ache between my legs.

We belong to him. Her words kept going through my mind. We belong to him.

A presence in our relationship, one that was, for all practical purposes, there from the beginning. 

His presence ebbed for awhile, but came back, stronger than ever.

In a way it's made us stronger than ever, not just having him in her life, but having him in our lives.

It was wonderful getting away, wonderful being with her, wonderful thinking again and again, the strong man who influenced us and controlled us even in his absence.