She walks him to her front door wearing a heavy fleece robe. He’s dressed again, coat in hand, and he leans down for one last kiss.
Their eyes lock together and a silent exchange takes place.
I don’t want you to go.
I don’t want to leave.
But responsibilities prevail, and with a smile and a look back over his shoulder, he walks out the door to his car.
She briefly considers letting him leave without running out to his car for more. He must be tired. He’d stayed longer than he ever had before and their activities that evening had been….aggressive.
But as soon as he walks past the front porch she knows she isn’t going to be able to just close the front door and let him drive away.
She runs out as he is placing his bag in the car. They embrace again in the driveway of the quiet moonlit neighborhood. There is a chill in the air, but wrapped in her warm robe and his arms, she feels none of it.
She hears the sound of a car door and some low voices. The neighbors across the street had had a late night as well. Aware of them, he kisses her in the shadows. She feels his hand slowly pulling the front of her robe open.
The cool air caressed her nipple first, followed by his fingers.
She can still hear the voices across the street. He pinches harder. She buries her face into his shoulder to muffle her sounds.
Harder.
She feels the wave of passion consume her again. So many times that night permission had been requested and granted, only once denied.
“Please,” she asks again, softly.
“Yes,” his own body is shaking. Her passion and his had interlocked. The harder she came the harder he got.
The neighbors disappear into their home.
His hand roams down her thigh. His ankle steps between hers and presses outward. “Spread your legs,” he murmurs, voice like gravel.
She stands, exposed to the cool night air while his fingers probe her cunt one last time.
He demands it this time. Voice deep and low with his eyes set to penetrate into the depths of her soul, “Come for me, whore. Come for me right here.”
The sensation overwhelms her and she digs her fingers into the sides of his arms to steady herself as she releases the orgasm at his command.
When she finally looks up into his eyes again, they’re soft once more.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says.
“Thank you,” she responds.
“And you’re mine.”
She feels the swell of emotion rise in her chest. Speechless, all she can do is nod.
“And I love you,” he whispers, as he leans in for another last kiss.
polyammering 