He rarely wasted money, but when it came to their home and items that would be used well past their prime, he had no qualms about spending it. He made an extremely good living, but he was never a prick about owning or being able to afford luxuries. Every year, he asked Libby to call community centers across the country and learn about those in need. Come Christmas, she would have ten families selected and Mason made it her project to make sure every mother, father, son, and daughter got what they wanted and needed. He loved being able to make a difference and it was something Liberty really benefited from, something she never was permitted to do as a child.
As the hot water sloshed over his body and suds swirled into the drain, Mason worked a lather over his needy cock. His mind went somewhere else for a moment, but he quickly chased it back to where it needed to be. Tugging hard and fast at his slippery flesh, he gritted his teeth.
His balls drew up tight and his ass clenched as his body came alive. Mason widened his stance and braced his upper body so that his forehead could rest on the forearm fixed across the tiled wall. His tight calf muscles flexed as his spine began to tingle. Panting through his teeth he grunted. Almost there. Tightly, he squeezed his aching cock, needing to experience that heady pain of resistance that only came with certain kinds of raw fucking, the kind he gave up long ago.
Opening his eyes, a pearl of pre cum slid over his finger and that was all it took. A kaleidoscope of images filled his mind, Libby’s sweet pink mouth, her perfect little cunt, that round apple shaped ass. Oh, God, what it would feel like to grab hold of that thick blonde hair and slowly feed her every inch of his cock.
And then it happened. No matter how hard he fought it a little glimpse always slipped past his guard, that little snippet frozen in time, one moment locked in his memory, a moment that was only one of many, unspectacular and ordinary, but meaningful because it was gone. His mind zeroed in on that forbidden glimpse of his past like a starved vulture over a long dead corpse. Greedily he mindfucked the image filling his head and cum was suddenly busting out of his cock with the force of a bullet.
Mason panted and caught his breath. His eyes squeezed shut as if that would make him forget what he saw in his mind. “Fuck.”
Blinking, he shook his head, clearing away the memories of his past. Like a phantom, they would haunt him for the remainder of the day. His past was not welcome here any more than Liberty’s was. The difference, however, was that he knew all about his wife’s tainted past. His mental relapse was an indiscretion, a reminder that, in light of his wife’s innocent continence, he still kept secrets from her.
Pushing the dusty memories back as far as he could, he focused on the happy life he had in the here and now. He loved his wife. She was a magnificent woman. He would not disrespect her by fantasizing about someone else. She was more than enough to meet his needs both emotionally and sexually.
After drying off and shaving, he moved back into the bedroom. Libby had been there. The evidence was in the freshly made bed, pillows fluffed like little plump clouds and blankets smoother than an idle millpond kissing the horizon. She did like to have everything just so.
A few minutes later he walked into the kitchen to find his beautiful wife placing a dollop of hand whipped cream on a stack of perfectly shaped buttermilk pancakes. Placing a kiss on the side of her neck, he grinned as she shivered. His mouth gently nibbled her there, the motion causing her hand holding the whisk to shake and leave her with a less than perfect tear shaped cloud of cream. She huffed, but smiled at him anyway. There was a teasing sort of pleasure that came with ruffling her feathers, playing with her just enough to keep the atmosphere of their home light and forgiving, while still supporting her need for perfection.
Mason opened the double door stainless steel fridge and pulled out a quart of orange juice. Just as he brought the bottle to his lips Libby snatched it out of his hands.
“You’re picking on me on purpose today,” she teased, pouring him a tall glass of juice.
“I just like to give you a challenge.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your mother called again this morning. Mase, it isn’t fair to blow her off on your birthday. You know she just wants to wish her favorite son a happy fortieth.”