I love this routine. You get home and the dog wiggles and leaps in utter devotional joy at your return from work. I allow the dog to dance and greet you and wait my turn. I stand and we kiss. It is that kind of kiss. The small smile, eyes meeting and familiar pressure of our lips in a welcome home way.
There is a recap of the day, yours and mine, the highlights. Cute happenings, funny jokes at work and how much money you made and a general cheer of awesomeness about it from me is the chatter. We advance down the hall while you decompress from the long work day.
I watch from the king size bed as you toe off your socks, peel away your work shirt and advance around the bed to take off your slacks. The routine is that I lean across the bed and scratch your back a little while. Sometimes you talk or I do; sweet small talk of married couples who are comfortable with each other.
Finally what I am really waiting for. He knows it. I never hide the fact that I look forward to it every time. I complain if I miss the event even. He stands, faces me in his BVDs and quickly lowers the elastic to flash me his cock. I laugh with salacious glee. If he feels festive he will even do tricks with his penis like bounce it against the elastic waistband or helicopter it with a flourish and a dashing smile.
I nod in approval and sigh with a mock fainting gesture of my upturned wrist to my forehead. If he plays coy I demand that he show me his dick. I don't know why. I just like that part of our welcome home ritual. Like the intricate greeting dance of flamingos or the processional nodding promenade of a penguin couple, I feel bonded to him in a special way when he flashes the heraldry of his intimate staff.
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