We had been fighting—a lot—and had both done some things to hurt each other. We had crossed lines that we had promised not to cross and we had betrayed each other’s trust. It wasn’t infidelity, but that isn’t the only way to wound one another. Weeks passed, the fighting continued, and our home wasn’t a pleasant place. Our future was in doubt, and divorce loomed in the background of each of our minds. Tears were shed over and over, and there wasn’t an end in sight. The pressure and strain had gotten to us both. Something had to give.
I walked in from work and found her on the couch. Her eyes were wet, and her look was one of exasperation.
“I’m tired of fighting,” she said.
“I don’t want to get a divorce.”
“I don’t either.”
“You hurt me.”
“You hurt me, too.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
She buried her head in her hands and started crying—again. Jesus. I was so tired of this. I sighed and walked out of the room.
After washing my face in the bathroom sink, I went and sat on the bed. How in the world did we get here? I honestly couldn’t say. I blamed her, and she blamed me, but what was the fix? I didn’t know. I had cried and prayed till I was blue in the face, and she’d done the same.
Then a thought occurred, a blatantly obvious thought that should’ve come weeks ago: We should cry and pray together. Hmmm…
I walked back into the room where she was. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she stared at me with a look I couldn’t discern. Without a word, I held out my hand. She looked at it, then at me, clearly wondering what I was up to and what she was going to do about it. She finally took it and rose to her feet.
When I lead her to the bedroom, she hesitated at the door. I simply pointed to the foot of the bed; either she was going to follow me, or she wasn’t. When she let go of my hand, I dropped my head and sighed again, but went to the foot of the bed anyway. I got on my knees and began praying to the Father. Holding nothing back, I continued to pray, and I could hear her sobbing at the door. I was sobbing too, but I stayed on my knees.
At some point—I don’t know how much time had passed—I felt her kneel beside me. For the first time in weeks, our bodies touched. It was just our shoulders at first, but the contact brought fresh tears and emotions that seemed to flow between us. We turned, placed our heads and hands on each other’s shoulders, and cried together. When we finally looked at each other, something passed between us. I don’t know how to describe it, nor do I want to be irreverent, but it was like the Holy Spirit pulled us together.
I’ve always loved kissing my wife, but the fire that burned when our lips touched was undeniably the most electric thing I had ever felt. Our tongues danced in unison, and every hurt we had inflicted on each other over the last few weeks seemed to melt away. I wanted her. I craved her. If I could have, I would have melted myself into her.
Without either of us really thinking about it, we were on our feet and tearing each other’s clothes off. Both of us were naked before we finally stopped and looked at one another. She had a look in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before.
She took a step towards me and dropped to her knees. I felt like her eyes were burning into my soul when she looked up at me.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she said.
“I forgive you.”
When the words left my mouth, hers closed on my dick. Whatever I had felt when we kissed paled with the feeling that poured from her mouth and went straight to my heart. Oh. My. God.
It was the wettest and most excruciatingly delightful blowjob of my life. She pulled my hands to the sides of her head and made love to my dick with her mouth; I really don’t know how I didn’t cum. When my brain finally pulled itself back into the moment, I wanted to reciprocate and make her feel what I had just felt.
After pulling her up and setting her on the edge of the bed, I dropped to my own knees. She was leaning back on her elbows when I looked into her eyes.
“I’m sorry, baby. I hurt you too.”
She said something, but by then I had buried my face into her cunt. It was like I was tasting and smelling her for the first time. My God. Her honey enchanted my tastebuds, and I was intoxicated by the scent emanating from her depths. I don’t know how long I kept at it, but I could’ve stayed there all night.
I finally realized she was calling my name, and when I looked into her face, I’d never felt so wanted. She slid to the center of the bed, opened her legs, and spread her slick cream over her inner thighs. The most erotic scene I had ever witnessed drew me in, and I was soon placing my weight on the most sensual goddess in the world. Our mouths dissolved into each other, and every thought except those of her dissipated from my mind.
I finally rose to my hands, and one of hers reached for my cock. She guided me to her wet hole, and her pussy swallowed me with one motion. I’d made love to my wife many times, and it had never gotten old, but this was easily the most primal, the most intimate, the most connected, and the most emotional sensation I had ever felt. It was almost as though I could feel every single nerve ending enveloped in her warmth.
No words were spoken as I began to move. She wrapped her arms around mine and locked her ankles behind me. “Sex” isn’t a big enough word for what we were doing. “Fucking” didn’t come close to describing it. “Making love” failed on every level to explain the physical, emotional, and—dare I say— spiritual connection we were making. I had never heard her make those sounds. I had never heard myself make those sounds. Our faces contorted in pleasure, but we never broke eye contact as together we rose closer and closer toward the peak of the most intense pleasure I had ever felt.
With every ounce of physical strength I possessed, I poured myself into our union. We cried out together as the most passionate orgasm of our life hit us both. Her head thrashed from side to side, and my legs shook, and my lungs emptied as I poured the very essence of my being into her core.
Long moments passed before our breathing finally returned to normal. I placed my weight on her again and peppered everything I could reach with kisses. She began to giggle, and it was the most precious sound I had ever heard. I fell in love with her again in that moment.
She playfully rolled over on top of me and gave me her own shower of kisses. Whatever we were arguing about was gone. I couldn’t even remember what it was. I didn’t care. We had prayed for help, and God had answered us in a way that neither of us could ever have imagined. Our laughter and conversation lasted deep into the night. We fell asleep entwined in each other’s arms and hearts. We were healed.
As I awoke, I was greeted with the most beautiful smiling face I had ever seen.
“I love you,” she told me.
“I love you, too.”
The post I Love You, Too appeared first on Married sex stories – erotica – marriage sex blogs.