I have to travel this week. I’m already concerned about how much I’m going to miss my husband and the dirty things I’m now conditioned to need every single day.

We’ve had sex in some manner 38 days in a row, a personal best in our marriage. Every morning I wake up comfortably sore, stretched out, and wildly satisfied. I roll out my body, feeling so pleased by the fucking I’ve been given. Then I look over at him and he smiles and looks absolutely predatory as he slides over to my side of the bed and reaches underneath the thin sheet barely covering my body.

I haven’t gotten out of bed yet, even though I should start to get ready for work. I can’t help sliding my hand between my legs and brushing over my clit, slowly opening my lips up and feeling my sweet slick honey coating the opening to my naughty pussy. I can’t stop thinking about the way he looks at me when he dips his fingers into my slit, or the way his tongue feels as we’re making out, or better yet the way it feels when he sucks the wet spot of my panties before pulling them aside and swiping his hot tongue onto my clit. I wish his work day didn’t start so early so we could have time to play in the morning. Instead I’m by myself thinking about him and how he feels when he rubs and plays with me silly, getting me speechless and drooling and then shoving his cock into my pussy. Working more and more of himself into me as I moan and gush around his cock at his request, like a dirty good girl does.

I’m so wet, and I already miss his fingers and cock even though I’ll see him tonight. How is it Monday already, I have to touch myself faster, work myself up sluttier, and edge before work begins. It comes much too quickly after a depraved weekend of nothing but time and sex.

But time’s almost up. I better leave myself on the edge. I have to be on my best behavior and sluttiest outfit this evening to make it memorable before I leave tomorrow.