Coming Home With Julie
Written by julievelor :: [Thursday, 30 March 2006 15:53] Last updated by :: [Thursday, 14 February 2013 14:59]
Coming Home With Julie
WRITTEN FOR SGI WORKSHOP 2.4
I'd told my darling husband I'd pick him up at the airport. That had been last night, when he'd called from his hotel. Since then the weather had broken, dumping nearly a foot of snow on the Denver metro area. And more was still coming down. His flight hadn't been canceled, but the airline's web site stated that it would be more than half an hour late arriving.
Having made appropriate adjustments in my own travel schedule, I didn't have to wait too long before he emerged from the escalator leading up from the little subway that runs to and from the concourses. We had a quick hug and a kiss before going to the carrel to wait for the rest of his luggage.
He glanced out the dark windows at the snow flurries outside. "Sorry you had to drive all the way out here in this weather," he said, turning back to me, his arm tight around my waist.
"You know I wouldn't leave you stranded out here." I had on a fur-trimmed leather jacket over a pair of jeans and sneakers. I had kept the jacket buttoned all the way up to the throat, even in the heated terminal. Once the suitcase trundled out onto the carrel, he grabbed it, set it down on its casters, attached his briefcase, and followed me out to the parking structure.
Unless you're on the roof, the multi-level structure is dark and gloomy even on a bright sunny day. On a dark and stormy night like this, it was even more so.
Which suited me just fine. For what I was about to do, I didn't want an audience.
"What was the drive out here like?" he asked, stopping to button up his overcoat.
"I wouldn't know." Making sure we didn't have an audience, I grabbed the suitcase in one hand, my darling husband in the other, and lifted myself into the falling snow.
My enhancement had made him somewhat impervious to the cold, but I still couldn't fly too fast while carrying him. Even then, it was a much quicker journey than by car – or by bus – especially considering the road conditions. But no in-flight food or music. Not even conversation, the slipstream made that all but impossible.
Landing on the back porch, I slid open the door, carried my burden inside, and closed the door behind us. Leaving the suitcase in the living room, I continued carrying my husband further into the house. "You can put me down now, Julie," he said, now that conversation was possible.
"Not yet," I told him, continuing to carry him into the bedroom before I finally deposited him onto the bed. As he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and sat up, I started to remove my coat.
His eyes widened in appreciation when he saw that I was wearing nothing underneath the jacket other than the jeans and a white bikini top. "Missed me, did you?" he asked with a smirk, reaching his hands up toward my chest.
"It's good to have you home again," I said, kicking off my sneakers and throwing myself at him, flattening him onto the bed. "Did you miss me, too?"
His hands answered that question for me, undoing my bikini top before working their way to the front of my chest.
Bending down over him, I trapped his face in the deep valley between my large full breasts and then started rocking my chest from side to side. An ordinary man's face would have been reduced to a mass of bruises but this was no ordinary man's face in my cleavage. This was my darling husband's face, the face of the only man I'd ever enhanced. Still, the swing of my chest was enough to knock his face from side to side. "Hold still, wench," he said, finally managing to get his hands on the outsides of my breasts in an attempt to halt my swinging. While his fingers – and the rest of him – was harder than steel, he had no more strength than an ordinary man.
"Oh, I'm a wench now," I said, continuing to smack him with my soft mounds, harder than before, first on one side of his face and then the other.
"Hold still, wench," he repeated, squeezing my breasts as hard as he could.
I halted my swinging, trapping him in the deep valley between my large full breasts. "Your wish is my command," I said, suiting my actions – or lack thereof – to his command.
Once again, an ordinary man would have been in pain from my soft mounds. My darling husband's hands continued to caress and knead the outsides of my breasts, while his tongue flicked along the insides. After about a minute, I raised myself off him and slid up his body. "Help me with my jeans?"
He did more than that, removing my jeans and the white bikini panties underneath. I then returned the favor and undressed him, a process which using my super-speed took less than two seconds.
With my enhancement, it doesn't take much to get him ready for me. And as for me, well, I am a Velorian, after all …