Sunday Snog – Rob and Lou Getting Wild!

“What’s the matter, love?” Rob asked, concerned etched on his brow.

“Oh, it’s just my shoulders. Well, my shoulders and my knees and my thighs. My calves too, actually—” “What have you been up to?” His brow raised and I laughed.

“New dances at Zumba last night. I always ache like buggery the next day. Why do I do it?” “I dunno.” He shrugged.

“I think I might be a masochist.” I sighed and headed into the kitchen to get myself a cold drink. I love Zumba. One night a week, I don the only pair of sporty three-quarter length trousers I own and a baggy T-shirt and I spend a pleasant hour sweating, singing, and dancing with other crazy women. It really is fun. It’s my treat, and every week I look forward to it. And I love learning new routines but blimey, do they catch up with me the next day. “Darling.” Rob walked up behind me and rested his hands on my hips and gently kissed the back of my neck, below my hair held back in a bobble. “Want me to give you a massage?”

“Oh, that’d be lovely. But the kids are in.”

“And? They’re in bed and fast asleep by now. I’m only offering you a massage.”

“Pfft.” I don’t complain about it, but Rob always gets distracted when he massages me. It’s a good kind of distraction, but the kids were in the house and I was worried they’d wake up.

“Oh, come on, sweetie. I’m just trying to be nice.” His hands ran up my back and he gripped my shoulders. I was about to come up with a convincing excuse when he dug his thumbs into the muscles either side of my spine and rubbed his fingers forward. It was absolute heaven to my poor aching bits, and he took my moan of relief as a ‘yes’ and took my hand to lead me up the stairs. I didn’t resist because, well, I didn’t want to. Sometimes you’ve just got to lay back and hope to God the kids don’t wake up.

“While you get naked and comfortable, I’ll go and get the massage oil,” Rob said at the bedroom door. I nodded. There was no noise from either of the kids’ rooms so I headed into mine, stripping my T-shirt off on the way and wincing. I eased out of my shorts and knickers, pulled off my bra, before leaping onto the cool sheets on the bed. It was a warm summer’s evening and the sun still poured in through the window. I probably should have shut the curtains, but I was comfortable and didn’t want to move. If the folks across the road wanted to watch, they were free to. I suspected they’d need binoculars, though.

“Now, there’s a sight to behold,” Rob growled. He closed the door behind him with a gentle ‘click’. I turned to look at him—he was already half-way out of his top.

“Hey, Mr Masseur, you don’t need to get naked to rub me.”

“I do if I don’t want to get lotion all over my clothes. You’d only moan at me if I did.” He poked out his tongue. “Fair enough.” I shrugged and watched him shed the rest of his clothes. I love the sight of my naked husband. It always creates naughty thoughts in my mind, and that night I was hoping that he’d hurry with the massage so he could get on and fuck me. Yes, I am easily swayed, especially because Zumba makes me horny. I love moving my body to the rhythm of the beat, the slinky salsa moves make me think of sex and Rob. Sadly, though, we’d both been too tired the night before to act on it. I hoped the extra waiting time would make the experience all the better.

Rob moved our special book behind the door. I kept a large, hardback novel beside the bed just for this kind of occasion. It might not keep the kids out completely but it would hold them back long enough for both of us to leap under the covers, if needs be. When you have children, you have to be inventive.

“Right. To business.” He flicked open the top of the massage oil and sat on the edge of the bed beside me. He dribbled a little into his hands and rubbed them together to warm the liquid before smoothing it into my flesh. It smelt like Turkish delight. I’m sure, when I bought it, I picked it up because it had a list of interesting sounding essential oils in it but, as it was smoothed onto my skin, it just reminded me of Turkish delight. Sweet, musky, and wonderfully indulgent.

Rob’s big hands were beautifully tender. They moved and smoothed over my shoulders and neck. They pulled out all the tension gathering there and I exhaled it with a long, guttural moan of delighted relief.

“That feels really good darling,” I crooned. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I like feeling you up.”