Every time they had tried to be intimate lately, all she could think of was what he had done with those hands, the things he had killed. But now, as her husband looked at her, the only thoughts in her mind were the times he had saved their asses. How he was the one who phoned her parents and convinced her father to come to Vermont. How he asked her before he made any big decision concerning their family. How on her birthday he gave her bright purple high heels he found in an abandoned store on a supply run, completely impractical, but something she would love. How he still complimented her cooking every night, even if she had never cooked venison before. She craved pleasing him, appreciating him the way he deserved. Sara pushed John onto his back and started to undo his belt and unbutton his BDUs. She pulled down his boxer briefs, and positioned herself on her stomach between her legs. He let out a long moan as her tongue hit the secret spot right under the head of his cock. She. I finish my pint and signal the barkeep for another. Your thumb is gently stroking the smooth skin of my back and I’m trying my damnedest to not quake all over. I turn to look at you, and as I do the hand on my leg slides a little higher. “I can’t.” I protest. “You sure?” you dip your head and press a kiss against my neck, the thumb on my leg stroking, sliding even higher, slipping up the hem of my skirt. “No,” I manage to gasp. “No what love?” “I’m not sure.” I manage to ground out. You chuckle again and kiss my neck again, higher, just below my ear and I moan softly as your teeth nibble at me gently. I shift slightly on the barstool and your whisper in my ear makes me blush. “Well?” you say louder. “Very” I manage to gasp. The hand on my leg slides higher and I hear you growl appreciatively when you reach the top of my thigh high stockings. Your hand continues to travel higher and I hiss softly when your fingers slide between the thin fabric and my skin. I clutch onto the bar as.
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