Coming Home (Het, Wife/Husband, Masturbation, Toys)
Been awhile hasn’t it? I better make it worth it. If you’re accepting fiction requests, I’ve got an itch that needs scratching. A wife gets spoiled with her hubby’s dick day in and day out, but for the first time in awhile he needed to leave for a business trip. Now he’s back and she’s craving something fierce. May I have the desperate needy wife story?
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They say you never notice something until it’s gone. James and I though, we had never had that. Absence, I mean.
Okay, brace yourself. Because this is going to sound super cheesy. I mean, maybe not. Maybe you’ll be one of those people that coo and say it’s cute. Maybe not. But James and I, we’ve been together a decade. Before that we were high school sweet hearts. Before that? Best friends in middle school. Before that, our parents were friends. Like I said, it sounds chessy-I know. We were one of those “well, duh!” couples that everyone imagines. Always together, always in love. That last part, it’s still true. Even with all the time we’ve spent together. I’d give anything for just an hour with him. Always have, and always will.
So you’ve got to understand, James not being here? It’s been horrible. It’s not like I don’t have friends. It’s not like I can’t keep myself busy. I’m sure if I tried I could find SOMETHING to do. But without him here, there’s just a hole in things. The first few days I kept on turning to the right or left. Smiling, half expecting to see him doing the same.
Then he wasn’t there. That smile would drop. The room would still be empty, and I would just sigh.
I joke all the time with him that I’ve got to die first. That I can’t do this without him.
But given the last week?
I don’t think it’s a joke anymore.
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He’s got his “work” smile on. It’s not disengenuous, but it’s got these little tells. The way his lips lie flat, just the corners upturned. He always uses it when he’s got to break something to me. This little smile that isn’t, always peeling into “It’s gonna be okay babe. I promise,” a moment later. His voice calm and measured like he was talking to a child. He knows I don’t like it, that I know EXACTLY what that tone and face means. But he uses it all the same. Old habits and all that.
James takes a breath, and says “So they wanna send me to Japan”. Just like that. As if it were down the street. I drop the chef’s knife I held onto the cutting board. I wiped my hands on my pants, the green pepper before me a cubist nightmare. I’d known he had something to tell me ever since he got home. The smile gave it away, but it was in his voice too.
How was work, James?
Fine babe, just fine.
I take a breath, and turn to him. I’m trying not to cock my eyebrow, but I do anyways. That’s my tell. He knows it well.
“Oh? When? How long?”
His right hand is laced in his left. He’s spinning his wedding ring, his eyes on the table. His work smile peels back as he rolls his shoulders. “Friday. About a month. They want me to talk to a few stores down there. Get some fluff about retro gaming or something. It’s a puff piece, but they’re paying for everything. Something about reaching an international audience I guess,”
I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. One that had made my chest tight since he got home.
Well, at least they weren’t firing him.
“Friday? That’s awfully soon. What, two days? Three?” I say. I cross my arms, and try not to show how tight I squeeze myself. James nods, and finally raises his head. That little smile, it’s working towards a sincere one. But it ain’t there yet.
“Yeah, I know. But it’s a big break if I do it right. And it could be fun, you know? I’ve always wanted to go there, yeah?”
I smirk, and barely hold back the snort that escapes my nose. “Well, yeah. But I thought ‘we’, not ‘you’, would go there first. We’ve talked about it for years,” I say. Perhaps a bit harsher than I meant. As James looks down, I feel my heart sink.
Oh shit.
“I mean, I know. But think of it like this,” he says, shifting in his chair. He looks back up at me. He raises a hand palm up and smiles. “I could find some cool places for when we finally do go. And I promise I’ll take pics of them too, okay?”
It’s not like I can argue with him. I mean, I could. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. I sigh, and wriggle my nose as I point a finger at him. “You better not go to that ‘soap land’ or whatever it is, mister. I know about those places,”
James rolls his eyes, his chair squealing as he gets up. He crosses the tile that seperates us, and it’s then it happens. As he gets closer, his hands meet my hips. I try not to melt into his grip-I put up a good fight, really. But I feel my body slack, and then it happens. He puts the work smile away, and gives me a real one. He leans forward, his lips finding mine. He holds me there a long while, his grip sure as I sink against him. When he pulls away, I lower my head to his chest. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze.
I tried not to cry when I realized it was one of the few he’d get before friday.
“Call me every day? Or text, or message or whatever?”
“We’ll figure it out,” he says, his hand cupping the small of my back. His chin rubs against the top of my head, and I feel him kiss me again. “Don’t we always?”
“I know, I know. But a month is-it’s a long time without you,” I say back.
James pulls from the embrace, his hands finding my shoulders. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment there’s nothing else in the room. Nothing that matters except for him and me, together as always.
“I’m never really gone. Not for long. You know that,” he says.
Then I finally smile, and tell him I love him.
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The first week was the hardest.
I’d wake at seven, roll over and clutch at an empty space. Then I’d open my eyes, and realize he was a world away. In an entirely different time zone. Just as I was getting up, he was a few hours into sleep. The first few days he’d called, he had messaged. But then he told me he needed rest to write.
It was like playing the laziest, longest version of tag. He’d send a message, I’d wake up ten hours later and reply. It was contact, sure. But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his smell-those horrible cigarettes he smoked. It wasn’t his warmth as his hips pressed against mine at night.
It was nothing but an empty room and a notification.
So I’d leave the room, and try to pretend he’d be home when I got back.
James and I, we hadn’t just been together forever. We did everything together too. We had remodeled our bathroom with a bigger shower. We woke up at the same time, even though he didn’t have to be in the office until 10. We’d call each other during our lunch breaks. We ate every meal together, watched TV together.
By the time the first week ended, just when I’d convinced myself I could handle it?
It finally hit.
He wasn’t going to be home for another two weeks, and I needed him.
Not just because I was lonely-I was. But this particular need came as I laid there on our california king. Blankets stripped off the bed, far to warm to be alone. I sat there, my breathing heavy as I tried to deny it. Tried to ignore it, convince myself that it wouldn’t be the same. But my hands moved all the same. They rolled over my breasts, my cotton tank top soft against my skin. It wasn’t as sure as his grip, but in the moment it didn’t matter. My fingers pinched, they tugged. They slid past the waistband of my panties, and pressed deep. My toes curled as my teeth sunk into my lips. It was good-but it wasn’t enough.
Even though I’d broken into a sweat, I needed more. I wanted that warmth on the inside.
James had been with me when I bought it. The store had been fringed by neon signage, but otherwise plain. Painted pepto-bismal pink, it had been impossible to miss. We pulled over on a lark, James already laughing as he pointed at the window.
“Hey now, you’d look good in that,” he had said. I rolled my eyes at the lingere the mannequin wore. We got out, and had entered.
It was the first time I’d gone into a sex shop.
James and I were regulars after that, but that first time had been too damned fun. We laughed, we cut up. We had walked around totally unashamed, hand in hand. When James had found the dildo, I’d made the mistake of gawking.
He smiled, and had gone to the counter.
It was big, so damned big. But not quite his size.
It was suppose to be my “rental husband” when he was out on work. Reaching under the bed now, a nagging voice told me it wouldn’t work. That it wouldn’t be as warm as him, but I didn’t care.
A girl could pretend, right?
I pulled it up, my fingers barely able to clasp it. My nostrils flared as I stared at it, taking in the sheer girth of it. I thought of pressing it in right away, but as the seconds passed I drew it to my lips. It wasn’t this cheap thing I wanted-it wouldn’t feel like him. It wouldn’t throb as like him as it pushed deeper. There wouldn’t be the clap of it’s balls, that moment of seizing before he came. But if I closed my eyes, if I did that and opened my mouth?
It was almost him. Almost.
So I did. I took this cheap fraud into my mouth, and shoved another finger in my cunt.
I counted down the days as a Plastic James fucked my throat.
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It wasn’t like I didn’t masturbate. I did-fairly regularly at that. But it was like anything else-a group activity. After that night, I thought it would pass. Maybe I’d have to do it one more time before he came home. But I could save myself, save every moment of that frustration for him.
I almost laugh thinking about that now. It was stupid to think it would work.
Because the truth is, it didn’t pass. That warmth, the one that had me breaking into a sweat? It stayed with me. All through the night, and into the morning. While I was at work. I’d had tried breathing deep. I had tried keeping myself busy. But in the back of my thoughts it stayed, wriggling into every little moment. I would try my best to focus on anything.
Only to look down, and see a long, wet line going down my leg. I could make excuses-I could reschedule plans with friends. But I couldn’t stop my hands from sinking to my thighs, from pulling my panties. But moments after, it rarely mattered. My eyes would close, mouth open as every digit rolled inside me. It felt so damned good-almost like the first time, but not quite.
It was lacking him.
James’ cock was a source of self-depreciating humor for him. I hadn’t the faintest idea why. At eight inches it was big enough to please. But it was a gorgeous cock, too. Not just a meat club between his thighs. The head was warm, the curve of it giving way to a thick vein that ran to his base. My fingers could get the job done. The dildo was close, if I tried. But they couldn’t fuck me like my husband could. Thinking back to it, that wasthe problem all along. I didn’t want to orgasm-it would be nice, but that wasn’t what it was about. It was him. I missed him terribly.
So I started messaging him more. I tried to call. I’d always manage to just miss him-sometimes by minutes. But then he’d be in a store, talking about carts and systems. He’d be working. Too busy to chat, regardless of what it was over. I had an idea then, one that any other time would have seemed disturbed in nature. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it-rather I simply hadn’t before.
It was so hard to position my phone against a pillow. It kept trying to flop over, or tilt to the side. So I got another pillow, trying to breathe my frustration out. When I finally got it still, I got up. I slipped out of my panties, a dark wet stain already spreading. I kicked them to the side, and sat down. I parted my legs, and leaned forward to hit RECORD on my phone. A red light blinked, and I sat there. Staring at it, staring at me as the seconds began to roll. I didn’t know what to say-what could I possibly say, anyways?
So I let my fingers speak for me. They reached between my legs, and parted my lips. I gushed against their caress and let out a gasp. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t been able to all week. When I finally found my voice, I uttered a few simple words.
“I miss you. Please, come home. I need it. I need you,”
I pulled my fingers away, their tips slick as I stopped the recording. My finger prints stuck to the phone, thick as jam. I wiped my fingers away on the carpet, and lifted my phone. My hands shook as I sent James the video. For the first time in a month, a smile broke it’s way across my face.
He responded three minutes later.
Long enough to watch the entire thing several times.
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I was on my best behavior.
I waited with a smile at the airport. I was in the yellow sundress he loved, a big cheesy sign in my hands. He looked exhausted, but his eyes widened as he rushed towards me. He threw his arms around me and squeezed with a strength he hadn’t used in years.
“Oh god, I missed you so much. I’m never going for that long,” he said as he broke into a laugh. “Not for all the money in the world,”
“Good,” I said. I rose to my tip toes, and kissed his cheek. We went to valet, got in our car and drove home.
Even then, I behaved. I asked him all about his trip. All the places he saw, all the stores the went to. He pulled out his phone, and slid it over. I scrolled through shot after shot, and jabbed him in the tummy when I saw a soapland sign in the back. He smirked, and kept on driving.
I was good in the driveway. I didn’t give myself away as he stood, twisting the door in his hand.
The moment we stepped through the door, though.
Well.
I wasn’t the only one that had been lonely.
James had kept his word, even for a jest. He hadn’t visited a soap land-much less touched himself. His balls smacked heavy against his thigh as I pulled his pants away. But it was his cock that made my jaw fall slack. Red and pulsing, all of a month restrained.
Just for me.
With his cock pounding my cunt, I could only talk in vowels. Every thought was broken by synapse fire, dopamine rolling in waves from between my thighs. His hands gripped my ankles as he snarled, and shoved right against my cervix.
He’d finally came home.