Home

Welcome to Minivan Libertine! Buckle up, then subscribe to the RSS feed and the comments feed. Thanks for visiting!

I was recently away from home for 8 days. I had a fabulous time, saw places I have always wanted to, met incredibly interesting people. I absolutely adored my trip, but was so so ready to come home.

Home is not a physical place for me. HE is home. Wherever he is, THAT is my home. Like a child, sometimes I have to get away and show just how big, strong, and independent I am, but I will always come home. There is no place on this earth that makes me feel safer, and no person whom I trust more with my heart. In fact, no one even comes close to being able to see the whole of my heart.

My great big personality can be scary. Power frightens me. I like people admiring me, and listening to me, but it also scares me and makes me feel an actor. People look at me and think they know what they see, but HE knows the truth and the bluster. And he accepts it, just as it is.

Last night in the bathroom, I was sitting on the counter when he started to kiss me. He puts his hands in my hair in a way that says “You are home. You are mine. You will obey.” Hardly the public face of independence and feminism anymore (at least to those who do not understand me), I submit. I allow myself to melt into his hands, and give my will up to him.

He kisses me for the longest time, and then pushes me to my knees. I suck his cock like my life depends on it, knowing the whole time that in some ways, my life DOES depend on it. I will never admit it to someone who does not understand, but the love I feel for my husband is the basis of my life. I have never been so dependent, so trusting, and at the same time made so strong by anyone in my life. I only hope I provide the same to him.

He pulls me back up onto the counter, and tells me to spread my legs. I am embarrassed at first, because I have a tampon in, but he shushes me and makes me expose myself. I am gushingly wet, and not from blood, but from pussy juice. It is everywhere.

He takes the head of his cock, and rubs it all over my pussy. Then he tells me to turn around, and pushes my face against the mirror. My pussy is wetter than ever, but he ignores it and goes straight for my ass.

He pours lube down my ass crack, and then rubs it in with the head of his cock.  It just slides right in, like it was meant for my ass.

I can’t decide whose face to look at, mine or his. I get off on seeing the pleasure on my face as he fucks me, but the looks from him in the mirror make it hard to remember myself.

I am subject to him, there for his pleasure, despite the fact that my pussy is dripping. He grabs my braids with his hands, and I can tell by the speed of his thrusts that he is seconds from coming.

This is the part I love so much, when he ceases to be my husband and just becomes the animal that is fucking whatever hole he chooses.

And then the animal goes back into hiding again, and he tenderly touches my face.

No matter where I travel, who I meet, or what I learn in this life, I will always find my way back home.