Author’s note: Everything else I write is fiction but this is a true story of the best anniversary my wife and I have ever had. Quick and straightforward; just romance and nothing terribly kinky on this one.
*
22 years. Angie had the day off to give her a nice 3 day weekend; and for me a normal Friday at the office. Even though we have 21 anniversaries behind us, the day still gives me a smile.
The drive home from work is my time to shake off the day and reflect on anything from the day’s wins and lessons to weekend plans; or on milestone days like this, the last 22 years. I naturally reflected on our most memorable – our first, where we ate the ceremonial cake, the second honeymoon in Athens on our 5th; and the infamous – our brief time apart in our 13th year. That separation proved to be a blessing in disguise; being apart on our anniversary helped make us both realize we belonged together, resulting in an unbreakable lifelong bond.
However… As much as I adore my wife now every bit as much as I did in our earliest years, complacency sets in. The fact I’m old enough to need medicine now doesn’t help. I know it’s just age and biology but still a blow to the ego. Angie really doesn’t care for flowers and we stopped giving gifts years ago. This anniversary is sure to be like so many over the past several years. We’ll sit on the couch and go through our usual drill:
‘We should probably at least have dinner somewhere’
‘Yeah, probably should; where do you want to go?’
‘I don’t care; what are you hungry for?’
‘Doesn’t matter; I can go with anything.’
‘Okay; I guess we can just go to Texas Roadhouse.’
I still have a healthy sex drive but Angie has become less and less responsive, the result of a waning libido I guess. We’re in a deep rut but we still love each other and have a good life: biggest house we’ve ever lived in; first pool we’ve ever had; financially secure. It’s a good life. Norman Lear once said how much he loved his life. Even at 98 years old, ‘I get to get up in the morning and I’m still married to the most beautiful woman in the world.’ Couldn’t have said it better myself.
Roadhouse is fine; we’ll go and have a decent time, then come home and sit back down on the couch as if we’d never left. We’re far from perfect, dysfunctional even, but I’ve learned to be content.
The door opened to an empty garage. I left work early for the occasion however modest it might be, and honestly didn’t think anything of her not being there; maybe she’s at Karen’s house. I set my stuff down and saw the handwritten note on the counter on nice writing stationery:
Happy anniversary, my love! Come to the Gaylord room #610.
See you soon! Love, Angie
(You’ll want to take your medicine; says your dosage is 3-5. You should take 5 (with a smiley face).
It took a minute to sink in; then my heart jumped and mind raced. What time did she write this? How long had she been there? I need to get out there right away! No, wait, maybe she just left; I don’t want to be right behind her at the check-in desk. What am I saying? I need to get out there right away! Do I shower first? No…yeah, make it quick. I was in and out in 5 minutes and raced to my dresser to grab a handful of clothes for an overnight bag and saw a second note: Already packed for you (with another smiley face).
I had one leg in my jeans before I thought wait, I can’t just show up in jeans and a t-shirt, can I. I quickly put on my best suit and ripped the tag off a necktie I hadn’t even worn yet. If Angie put this much thought into this night I needed to come strong. I was out of house in less than 15 minutes. I had a fleeting thought to text her and ask if she needed anything before realizing how stupid that would sound; it’s not like I’m going to the Piggly Wiggly. God we were in a rut. My heart was pounding and my mouth dry from the flurry of activity. I’m sure I didn’t catch every red light on the way there but it sure felt like it.
I finally arrived at the Gaylord and walked in like a gentleman as best as I could, conspicuously carrying the flowers I bought along the way; didn’t even notice or care how much they cost, I couldn’t come empty-handed.
I stood at the door of room 610, the bar flipped over to discreetly block it open, the faint sound of romantic late 80s music coming from within. I softly announced myself as I walked in. The aroma of perfume filled my senses as I rounded the corner seeing Venus in the flesh making herself a drink at the bar.
Angie’s beautiful red hair was long and straight. She turned and smiled, her deep red lips revealing perfect white teeth and her radiantly beautiful face in full makeup. She was wearing one of my starched white button down dress shirts extending halfway down her pantyhosed thighs, top two buttons undone. “Well you look nice,” she complimented me as she walked over, drink in hand. Angie pulled me toward her by my tie and kissed me. Her kiss tasted of vodka, sticky aromatic lipstick with equal hints of mouthwash and fresh menthol smoke. She was perfectly eye level with me in high patent black heels.
I looked into her green eyes, framed by dark bronzish shadow and long false eyelashes. “You look so beautiful,” I whispered and wished her a happy anniversary before kissing her again with my arms around her waist and hers atop my shoulders, swaying to the music.
She broke character as we sat on the couch. “Thought I might surprise you; did it work?” She asked with a proud smile. I assured her this was the last thing I saw coming, expressing my surprise and how impressed I was at the thought she’d put into it; though quietly I wasn’t surprised at all. My wife doesn’t do anything last minute or without significant planning and forethought. I was just pleased to be the beneficiary.
I returned to the couch with my own drink as she sat casually with her legs crossed; my dress shirt riding high up, exposing the lacy top of her thigh highs. Those legs extended across my own as soon as I sat down, as if to show off her new shoes – as if I hadn’t already noticed. I ran my fingers across the shiny patent leather and down the spiked heel and slid them into her arch, slipping the heel off, causing it to dangle from the tips of her toes before letting it fall to the floor. I took my time repeating the process with her other shoe. After 22 years together, Angie was well aware of my affinities, dormant as they’ve lately been, and was most definitely playing to them as never before.
I needed to be careful not to overdo it. I had to strike the right balance between soaking in the moment without bouncing off the walls. I took a deep breath, sipping my fine bourbon with one hand as my other gently massaged each of her red toes underneath the sheer seamless nylon. I lifted her toes to my lips, inhaling the aroma of nylon and leather. I was in heaven; here with my beautiful wife celebrating our years together.
Angie set her empty glass on the coffee table, stood in front of me and pulled me up by my tie, leading me into the bedroom as she would a dog on a leash, pushing me down on the bed. I could already tell there was no bra but when I glided my hands up the backs of her thighs I felt nothing but her soft flesh above the lace all the way over her hips.
Angie helped me shimmy out of my coat and tossed it to the floor as I ran my hands up over her full hips. The lean figure of a fitness queen from 20 years ago was long gone but my hands cupping the flesh of her beautifully full ass turned me on and made me love her even more. Angie is neither thin nor overweight; just a perfectly curvaceous 46 year old beauty. A woman can never enter a man’s mind to understand how much more desirable we find our wives at this age than the earlier years. They focus on perceived imperfections and pine for the figure they no longer have. All we see is the pure beauty of life experience and how much more we love them now than ever.
Angie leaned in to allow my face between the buttons to her kiss her chest, deeply inhaling the mix of fresh cleaner’s starch, perfume and that enduring residual menthol smoke; all of which created an erotic cocktail which filled all of my senses. We savored the moment, kissing and fondling as she took her time undressing me and laying me back against the headboard. She removed my tie, loosening it enough to lift it over my head and place it over hers with a giggle. Last to come off were my boxer briefs; she giggled again, saying she was glad I ‘found’ my medicine.
Her eyes locked on mine as her red lips descended my shaft. I could only take it so long before I leaned forward pulling at her hips to the side, pivoting her leg across my body and lowering her ass onto my face. Angie responded by grinding her fullness to my chin and up onto my nose, wiggling her exposed clit across my lips. Fuck, I love this woman.
My hands slid underneath her shirt up to her full, fake c-cups, a gift we gave each other when we reunited after our separation. I tweaked her nipples, causing her to gasp on my rod as I pulled more of her flesh between my teeth and thrusting my tongue as far as it could go into her canal. I could feel her body tense up with a quiver, feeling her hand on my cock up against the side of her face; I knew she was close. Her quiver became a tremor and then a mini-convulsion as her clit stiffened between my lips and teeth, her body falling limp on top of me.
We recovered with afterplay, kissing and fondling as we geared up for round two. Angie smiled and leaned back, “I wonder if I can still do it.” I knew was what coming; she converted her strength and cardio regimen to almost exclusively yoga, maintaining the flexibility of a teenager. Angie held her feet and slowly extended her legs, locking her knees as she pulled them apart. I took that welcome invitation to replace her hands with mine, lowering myself onto her. As I did, she locked her ankles around my neck, gliding her nylon feet across my face and lips. We took each other in a slow passion that only exists between committed lovers.
We both have our bedroom kinks, but those are for another time. We’d teased each other just so we’d know they were there: me letting her take charge; and her letting me take her luscious nylon toes in my mouth and allowing me the pleasure of tasting her smoky kiss. Angie isn’t a smoker but occasionally indulges that fetish for my benefit. Those kinks didn’t have to be center stage tonight. Tonight was for lovers.
Neither of us wanted the night to end. Of course the sex was fantastic but what I enjoyed most was pleasing Angie in our quiet, distraction-free intimacy. My senses were filled; the feel and vision of the most beautiful woman in the world; her soft voice; the taste of her kiss and body, but most of all the cocktail of scents filled my sinuses bringing it all together. Yeah, not just the best anniversary but maybe the best night of our 22 years.