Stolen sex

My husband and I live in a 1950s subdivision where the lots are postage stamp size and you can almost reach out of your bedroom window and touch your neighbor’s house. We live in a nice expanded cape with 3 bedrooms, 1 bath, kitchen and living room. While small, we enjoy it there and have a good relationship with our neighbors.

One Saturday evening we put our little ones to bed and broke out a bottle of champagne to have a little party for two. I don’t know what it is about champagne, maybe its the bubbles, but when I drink it with Evan I usually get tipsy within 2 glasses. We lit some candles in our bedroom and were beginning to get ‘friendly’ with one another. I was looking forward to our special time alone, even if I knew how abruptly it would end. I love sex with my husband Evan, but I am often disappointed when he cums within a couple of minutes after entering me. He says I should take it as a compliment, that my love box feels so good and is so perfectly fit to him. Of course I do, but its tough to feel that way when he rolls over, sleepy and satisfied and I’m just getting warmed-up. We’ve talked about this little problem and he understands, so he tries to bring me close to climax before he inters me. Sometimes I get a little tongue action, sometimes a little digital manipulation. What I love the most is the sliding of my trusty vibrator in and out while Evan bites my nipples; especially the left one. On this particular Saturday, even with all the wonderful foreplay (I got the works) Evan finished the race before I did and collapsed on his pillow. I didn’t complain, it was wonderful sex, but I wished I was collapsing on my pillow too.