Author’s Note: I normally try to craft a narrative that my readers can lose themselves in if they so wish, imagining all of the sights, scents, sounds, and sensations involved. I want them to feel like they are there. I know I am not a true writer, but I put a lot into it, and I try (clumsily, perhaps) to make use of literary devices and other similar storytelling techniques. While all of my stories I have submitted so far are based on true events, I do give myself artistic license to make something engaging and special that is worth your time and attention, usually with a moral-of-the-story theme from my own experiences to encourage you about your own marriages.
As such, I would consider my stories to be in the vein of Impressionism in that they describe real events, or a composite of several real events, with an emphasis on exploring the various feelings, sensations, emotions, and connections that were experienced, rather than simply retelling the exact facts of what occurred.
However, the following story is simply an exact retelling of events, and is therefore, much shorter and less fleshed-out, if you will, mainly because I have little time to work on it today, but wanted to pass this on for your reading enjoyment.

My wife Vanessa and I are currently visiting with family for Thanksgiving, and I don’t have much time to write. We haven’t even had any time for sex.

But while in my parents house, I saw her emerging from a storage room where she had been resting while I conversed with my parents in the dining room. She had woken up, and we serendipitously encountered each other in the hallway, in front of an open window with beautiful scenery and farm buildings in the distance. (I know the people out there, and no children live in that direction, so if anyone could see us, they would have been adults.)

She remarked that she felt achy, then murmured in my ear she wished she could find someone with the magic touch. Without saying anything, I put my hands under the back of her shirt and began to press and massage her with my fingers. I slowly worked my calloused, tanned hands downward. I reached the small of her back and I felt where her large ass juts out from there like a shelf. I felt the waistband of her sweatpants and gently pulled. She didn’t mind.

I pulled her pants and her panties down further, exposing the creamy-yellow of her beautiful round ass in the sunlight, and began massaging it and became aroused. We heard my family just outside the hallway.

She whispered, “Wait for the hotel!” She breathlessly pulled her panties and underwear back up, and turned to give me a scolding look. Her eyes sparkled and her full lips parted in a smile at me. She had enjoyed the moment, brief as it was.

I love moments like that, even when sex is not possible. It only makes the wait more exciting. And expressing my affection for Vanessa and revealing her ass in front of the window where we could have been seen thrilled me in a startlingly intense way.