Vanilla Desires

His obsession

Aryan laid in bed and sighed. He couldn’t handle being so close to Imlie, yet so far. Living in the same house, sleeping in the same room with just a few steps separating them. After speaking with Didi, he couldn’t hold these emotions for his wife inside him any longer. They bubbled and threatened to overflow.

Aryan needed Imlie like he needed his next breath—her being beside him wasn’t enough anymore. He needed to be so imbedded in her bones like she was in his. He was fully hers and nothing would change that. Now, he needed there to be no question on with whom she belonged.             

She was made for him as was he was made for her. All these years he felt like something was missing, like a vital part of his soul was out in the world and he didn’t know the first place to look. Imlie wasn’t wrong to say that he had been on many dates, because he had been on a lot before Jiju died. He looked for that piece of his soul in women, in work and even in family.       
A

ryan never found it until her.                    

Imlie.           
         
She held that piece of his soul, his very essence and it was like his life held a purpose, one that he wasn’t privy to until his eyes locked onto hers. He was made to love her unconditionally and he had and still did. He’d been patient with her and never expected anything from her. He still didn’t, Aryan would resolve himself to live this one-sided love if it came down to it, he would love her in silence for the rest of his days.            
       
But he knew it wasn’t unrequited. He’d seen love in her eyes, he’d seen desire.            

God.            
     
Aryan felt his cock swell. He just needed to think about her eyes darkening with desire and he got hard. He’d seen it a few times, each time he never wanted to think further on it because he didn’t want to go down a dark hole in case he was imagining it all.      
      
He recalled that morning when she came out of the shower—hair wet, water trailing down her neck, begging to be licked off her skin. He was jealous of a drop of water, getting to caress her skin in ways he could not. Her wet tresses moving side to side with each flick of her head. Aryan wasn’t a begging type of man, but if it came down to it, he would beg his wife to simply let her hair run down his face.            

Aryan groaned—his cock grew unbearably hard.

Oh God.            
   
He heard the shower start and knew he had but just a few minutes before she finished. He reached beneath the blankets to pull his cock free.

Aryan gripped his cock in a firm grasp and pumped his hand up and down, up and down—slowly at first, then gradually picking up his speed. “Yes, yes, Imlie…” Imagining his wife in the shower, the water running down her nude form that was still a question to him, one he would kill to find the answers for.     

What did her breast look like?
What did her pussy look like? Feel like? Taste like?  

Aryan bucked his hips and let out an audible grunt. He imagined himself in the shower with her, grasping her perfectly sized breasts in his palm, her dusky nipples hardening under his touch. He envisioned running his thumbs back and forth over the nubs, evoking a husky moan from her lips.   
 
He pumped his cock to the image in his head where he was now tonguing each nipple, sucking the left into his mouth while his hand played with the right. His hips continued to rut into his hand, his balls tightening up. Aryan moved his fists up and down his shaft while the other hand reached beneath to squeeze his balls hard.    

He was not ready to cum yet.  

Aryan went back to the fantasy playing in his mind and saw himself backing her into the shower wall to make her lean back, her hips thrusting out. Aryan got down on his knees and brought his face right up to her pussy and—Fuck! He didn’t know what she smelled like. He knew she would smell like heaven, he knew she would and he was now ravenous for the real thing.

Aryan changed tactics and imagined it was her hand on his hard cock—gripping him firmly, leading him to his pinnacle. He felt her soft hands squeeze the head of his cock and Aryan groaned, “yes, Imlie, yes, don’t stop.”  

His hips bucked harder and harder, he heard the bed creak and the headboard hit the wall with a resounding thud. Aryan was vaguely aware that Imlie could hear if her shower was over, but that somehow made him more aroused. The fact that she might hear him fucking his own fist made him wild.       

Aryan turned his head and bit his pillow to mute his shout of rapture. He came and came and came, until his fist milked him dry.    

Aryan chuckled, remembering all the times he called her, “junglee” when he was in fact the one wild for her. Aryan was wild for his wife, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“What were you just doing, ABP?” Aryan swung his head to the bathroom door and saw his wife’s look of confusion obvious on her face, but beneath that all, he saw the flush on her cheeks and neck. He saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Imlie saw her husband come hard in his hand and she liked it.

Aryan smirked because he knew the game was on to win his wife.