Breathless, flushed with that new, feverish feeling running through me like the Bethesda goddamn Fountain—this feels like the end of one story and the beginning of another.

Part of me wants to think the story that ends now began at a little store—an ‘adult entertainment store’ as they call it—on Second Avenue.

I can’t remember what drove me there that day, although I do remember I was wearing a silk scarf around my head and big Oliver Goldsmith sunglasses in case any nosyparkers—like that goddamn Patricia Sherman upstairs—were snooping around the block for whatever goddamn reason.

Woman behind the counter assured me that there was no expiration date.

Trying to catch my breath on the lip of our bed, a couple years later at this point, I’m optimistic about the way that story is about to end.

I’m not going to say I’m satisfied—not yet—but that’s what I’m optimistic about.

“What else is in the bag?”

Thomas’s voice is still slightly weak, but it’s regaining strength.

His cock is as purple, rigid, and engorged with excitement as ever.

“Why don’t you go take a look? Feet don’t work?”

Thomas sits up at last, and his strong, sizable hands begin wrapping softly around my shoulders.

“I’d rather do it myself.”

“Do what yourself?”

“Give you the fuck of a fucking lifetime.”

“We’ve still got to turn up the heat a few degrees before that.”

Thomas starts nudging the thermostat immediately. His lips fall gently just above my shoulder, just above the top of my shawl.

His kisses begin just as gently, maybe even more than that, to the point I can barely feel a thing.

They pick up in roughness, though, and I sense an untamed and uncontrollable animal in him as he kisses around the bottom of my neck—and tears off my shawl.

Both of us are breathing heavy enough to create an orchestra of overstimulated panting as our two sets of hands work together to take off my blouse, then my bra.

“Ohhhhhhhh.”

Thomas’s roughness reaches a crescendo of sorts as his hungry kisses reach the top of my tits. Each landing of his lips starts to soften as moves his way down my left tit, closer to the nipple.

Before he reaches the outer edge of my areola, he stops.

My fingers curl around the surface of our comforter, and my toes start to curl subtly, too.

Thomas repeats the routine with my right tit, this time getting even more gentle, getting even slower until he stops.

“Fuck, Thomas, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

Thomas takes my nipple softly into his mouth as he reaches into my long silk skirt.

“You’re so fucking wet, aren’t you?”

He’s hovering just above my tits now, and his hand is just close enough to my cunt to feel how fucking soaked it is.

“Yes, I’m so fucking wet, so stop talking about and do something about it.”

As Thomas’s hand slides up towards my panties, his entire body slides up as well, and he takes my left shoulder into his mouth—tonguing it and sucking on it like I did with his.

“Fuck, we need more fucking massage oil.”

Thomas doesn’t destroy my skirt like I did to his pants, but he does deftly and efficiently get it off my legs and onto the floor.

The feel of his head, floating somewhere so painfully close to my pussy, nearly sends me into some sort of hysteric convulsions.

My husband, for the first time that I can remember, takes the waist of my panties into his teeth, and pulls them down with his mouth like a hungry, wild wolf.

Thomas’s tongue is soon paying gradual and deliberate attention to every nuance of my insistently tingling pussy.

As waves of bliss crash through me and the tide of my ecstasy starts to come in, Thomas’s lips get in on the action.

My hands slam against the top of the mattress, and my feet kick with a powerful climax.

Thomas leans back only slightly as I squirt like a geyser, and he begins climbing on top of me before the orgasm’s even finished.

That initial high-water mark of gratification blends and fades into the rising heat and ineffable pleasure of Thomas’s huge cock starting to slide into me.

“Oof. Oh, holy fucking Chrrrrriiiiiiiiist.”

Thomas’s face appears above me, an unquenchable fire in his eyes as he slips in further.

The focus in his eyes starts draining as the pleasure just mounts and fucking mounts.

The tide is already coming to another high mark.

Closing my eyes for a second, I let it build. And build.

Fuck.

I’ve never felt like this.

That’s what I want to say, but I can’t.

I can’t speak a fucking word.

We’re just letting that tide come in together as it just mounts and fucking mounts.

My body shudders only slightly with the next orgasm, although it’s even more powerful than the last.

And I’m still rendered speechless as we keep building after that.

With my next orgasm, Thomas comes as well, and the world is set on fire with brilliant, white flames around us.

We hold each other as the beautiful light of our lovemaking fades into an ethereal glow.

“Next time,” Thomas whispers, “we’ll see what else is in the bag.”

“Oh, you just wait. That was only the beginning.”