We get intimate, but not necessarily sexy.

Our kids always beat me to the door when he opens it, but I am never more than a dozen steps behind them. This gives them plenty of time for them to get swept up in their dad's arms, give him the biggest welcome home hug, and then I can come in and hug them all together. He gives us all kisses everywhere, and a few minutes of attention before throwing up the flag. That's when I take the kids away so he can veg on the couch, where his coffee is waiting for him, undisturbed until it's either dinner or bed time. He's usually asleep when I come and get him though. I hate to wake him, but I have to because A) he needs a proper home-cooked meal and B) that couch will fuck up his back, and he'll be grumpy about it for a week.

But once that's all said and done, and the kids are fast asleep, that is when we can reconnect.

We strip down, and I sit on the edge of the bed, and he lays his head down on my lap. A second later, I'm making my little moo moans as he latches onto my teat and starts suckling on it. I kind of get my arm around and under his head and shoulder to give him better support, so that he can just focus on his nightcap. His bottom arm circles around my back and pulls him into me more, and his other arm likes to just hang on to my other teat. Not to make it flow or anything, just for the sake of feeling it in his hand.

His eyes are usually closed when we do this. I asked him about it before, because I was feeling a little self-conscious about him not liking what he was seeing, so he closed his eyes, but he told me that he closes his eyes because it feels very... zen for him. Like there's nothing wrong in the world when he's doing this. And when I look down, hear his calm breathing, feel his warm rhythmic pulls, and see that look on his face, that look that says "I'm home," I feel my heart flutter, and want to keep this going on forever.

Eventually, when he gets full or drinks me empty, whichever happens first, he's so relaxed and cozy, and so ready for sleep, but he does his best to stay awake for me to get mine in. He lays on his side of the bed, and I lay down between his legs, so I can worship at the altar of his cock.

That sounds more epic than it is, but I'm not giving a sloppy gluk-gluk with the goal of making him explode. I'm doing it for my zen. To feel him throb and grow in my mouth. To taste him with my tongue. To see the fatigue melt of his face. To hear the groans roll out of his throat. To breathe in his subtle male musk that exudes past the soap. Everything I need, to know that he is really back home with me again. I have to hold myself back a hell of a lot, but once I've gotten most of it out of my system, I give his cock one last kiss and a wipe down with a towel, before getting into bed next to him. (Because no one can prove that it isn't, I like to believe that his morning woodie is still the same stiffy he went to sleep with)

Rancher is struggling to stay awake by then, but there's just enough juice in him to snuggle up next to me, get his arm around me, give me a sleepy little kiss on the lips, and whisper "I love you" to me, before just checking out of the waking world. I kiss him back, tell him that I love him too, get even closer to him, and close my eyes, falling asleep to the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, and the love of my darling husband.