Today is a snow day. Well, it is for me anyways. I'm in graduate school; pursuing a masters in art history. Campus is awful when it snows; and besides, I have enough to do at home to justify taking off the day. My love, however, is not so lucky. To him, snow day just means a terrible commute and wet toes all day long. I tried very, very hard to feel as guilty as possible when we said goodbye in the morning; me still asleep, him all bundled up.
Little does my love know that I will have a surprise waiting for him when he returns. You see, I do feel guilty about having a snow day when he doesn't, and I want to share the relaxation and freedom with him. I want to give him something that will warm him up and melt the day away. I put aside my work (I'm ahead of the game anyways) and trot over to a bookshelf. Today I am going to read something that has been sitting on my shelf for far too long, "Erotic Massage: The Touch of Love."
He comes in the door, later than expected; damper than expected. Poor thing. I help him out of his coat and press myself up against him; giving him a long, slow hello kiss. He sighs as some of the days stresses melt from his tired frame. I ask if he's hungry, but he ate on his way home.
"Hey, what's that smell?" He asks, suddenly. I take his hand and guide him into the bedroom. The lights are dimmed; a candle sits flickering on the bed side table, giving off a lovely floral scent. I start to slowly peel off his clothes.
"Baby, I'm so tired and wiped out, I just need to relax," he says, almost pleadingly as I peel off the last item. I let my eyes make contact with his and linger there. I watch as he realizes that there's no use protesting. I place my hand on his chest and push him back onto the bed.
"Tonight, I'm going to pamper you." I say, rather matter-of-factly, "Now roll over." I move to the foot of the bed and retrieve the two cuffs stashed beneath the mattress. I tether them to the bedposts, and then place one set cuffs on his ankles. Pausing, I slowly strip off my sweatpants and t-shirt to reveal my naked body. He smiles into his pillow as I crawl up onto the bed and start slithering up his form. I move ever so slowly, and let just the tips of my nipples graze along his skin. I let my lips graze his neck as they pass; he wants more, but I don't give it to him, I just keep moving. I reach for one of the cuffs already attached to the headboard, secure one of his wrists, and then reach for the other.
He turns his head sideways and asks me what I'm planning to do to him. I smile as I reach over to the bedside table and grab the candle. His eyes widen and he goes to protest; he is not a fan of hot wax. I place a finger to my lips and make a shhhh sound as I let some of the warm liquid pooling in the glass candle holder trickle out onto his back. His reaction is wonderful; he jumps on contact because he's expecting hot wax, and almost immediately afterwards, his body just melts as the warm oil spreads across his shoulders. Smiling at him, I drizzle a bit more, drop my hand into the pool, and start to spread it around.
My hands work his body, slowly and methodically. I caress his legs, his back, his arms and his shoulders. He liquefies into the massage oil beneath my fingers, his body yielding like putty. When I finish with his back, I put the candle down and reach for the blindfold stashed beside the bed. I slip it onto his face, then I release his wrists, and whisper into his ear.
"It's time to flip over." He does as told. I adjust his wrist and ankle cuffs, and check the blindfold. He's still mine.
I use the candle wax to massage his torso, surprising him with dollops of the warm oil at unexpected times. I finally put down the candle and pick up the bottle of warming lube from the headboard, and then drizzle it gently over his hardening cock. He gasps at the unexpectedly cool temperature, and gasps again as my hands start to massage the lube onto him. I lean down and blow gently across his now hard cock; watching him tremor as the warmth spreads in the wake of my breath. I tease him like this for some time, watching him get more and more antsy as I massage. He strains harder and harder against his cuffs as I blow. Finally, I can resist no longer, and lower myself onto his warm slippery form.
Yeah, there's nothing better than a snow day.
The New Intimacy