• Mallory posted an update in the group Group logo of Erotic CollaborationsErotic Collaborations 7 years, 3 months ago


    After I closed the door behind me, I fumble around to hit the light switch. The apartment is dark except for the outside skyline seeping in. I follow the low rumble to find Nic. The rumble and fizzle. She must have candles lit too. I enter the flickering light and step closer to the bubble sizzling sounds of our jacuzzi. I find her there, partially leaning on the deck, her little body floating. She is trembling.

    “Nic!” I grab the towel.

    She looks up at me then, with that pained, exhausted smile. I ease her up before wrapping the towel around her to get her out. I start drying her off.

    “Bad patient day?” I ask, rubbing my thumbs under her eyes.

    She just whimpers a little, while her eyes and hair soak through my shirt. I hold her until I feel her skin cooling off, tightening to fight the leaching of her body heat. The creeping vapor drains away from the bathroom. I ease her away slightly, letting the towel fall to put a robe on her.

    “Tell me what you need, Nic, “I search her face. No matter how bad it is, what it is, I would absorb it for her. But I am grateful it is not her surgery day today; I am not so good a buffer on those days.

    Her eyes, returning, closer. Her mouth, steadier.

    “Scrambled eggs?” she says, a wry smile touching her lips.

    My heart sighs in quiet relief, and I take her arm into mine and through the dark, we find our way to the kitchen.

    “Sure thing. Wanna help Daddy with the eggs?” I tease her.

    Nicole hops up onto the kitchen stool while I get a few things from our fridge.

    “How about if you get the toast ready, if you want toast. I want one slice.” I tell her while I start cracking the eggs and whipping.

    I watch her, through a few side way glances, pop the bread into the toaster then shove her hands under her butt and lean forward. My strong wife, in her state of occasional, no, rare disintegration. I watch her listening to the gentle, rhythmic beat of the silver fork stirring the eggs, mixing in the salt. She leans forward some more, to look at and listen to the butter softly sizzle to slick the small, hot pan. I push the bowl in front of her, with my spatula in hand.

    “You can pour it in,” I smile at her, “now.”

    I work quickly, non-stop, scraping the bottom and the sides of the skillet. I listen to Nic’s little chuckles at the large curds forming, before I turn the heat down. I carefully start folding the fluffy, billowy curds, and then slide the glossy eggs, shiny and slightly wet, onto our plates.

    “I love a man who understands bondage, on a molecular level.”

    “Yep,” agreeing with her, “I knew the way to your heart was through your stomach, and your nerdy mind. Or should I say your appetite and dirty mind?”

    We eat in quiet. In these times, I love that she eats with her left hand, when I can hold her with one arm and we savor together, the food warming our bodies, our touch reconnecting ourselves.

    We make our way to the bedroom not long after we eat. I tug at the bed linens to make sure they are extra tight and smooth when she got in. I press all of me closer to her; my hands caressing her ass. It amazes me that her butt is used to sit at all, given how smooth it is. Like a newborn’s butt. Like it has never known any burden of weight or pressure. Between how her skin glides on my palms, and how the cool silk of her hair slips through my fingers, I have all the peace and calm no amount of opiates can ever produce.

    There, I drift off in the darkness; our breathing and body heat wrap us together. Then Nic inhales deeply, a sharp and jolting breath.

    “I’ve been seeing someone.”

    I hear her but not grasping the message. Her six syllables rewind in my head. I listen again, the meaning of the words, the intended message. Nicole changes the speed by which my blood runs through my body; she always has. It crashes into my head and floods my cock, flashing hard and hot.

    “Seeing? Who?” Breathy words explode from me.

    Blinded, I move and I’m on top of her, all of her crushed by the fortress of my body.

    “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” In an instant I’m trying to figure out what happened; my brain is rebooting while my chest breaths rage hot enough to blow out all the windows.

    “NO, NO, I am really hurting for the patient I can’t treat,” she says as if to transform words into a balm to soothe my panic.

    Her legs find their way to wrap around my back. Her arms wrap around my neck and she looks up into my eyes. Her lashes flicker. I push myself slowly into her until I reach that wanton’s sigh. I fuck her until she stopped rocking her hips, until her release. I hold her until she stopped crying. I listen to her heartbeat until once again, she changes the speed of my blood and I fall asleep.