Romantic Sex Stories: Real Love Adventures which will get you inspired
Updated: Feb 7
As you maybe know: we at Filthybooks love all forms of erotic stories! And while we normally talk bout great Erotic and Romance Fiction books, we also love to read and share with you different real life sex stories which are so smokingly hot that they will set you aflame.
In this episode we focus on the best Romantic Sex Stories! Why?
We all know how challenging it can be to keep the passion alive over years.
But even though Sex with an unknown can be highly thrilling (and to be honest: we love to read about that): isn't it almost everytime the hottest sex when it is combined with love, passion and romance?
Furthermore: Having Sex as a couple and talking and dreaming about Sex together is a key guideline for maintaining a long-lasting passion.
So we definitely want to celebrate all couples which manage to maintain a romantic relationship with hot sex. And we want to support all those couples who might actually struggle a little with that.
And what's better than to get inspired by other real life couples who managed to overcome the daily challenges and lit their fire of passion again?
That's why we went out and searched through sites like reddit, tumblr and many more to find the best Erotic Stories of married Couples who rediscover their love and passion!
Those stories are short, sexy and tell a smokingly hot story about a married couple finding their passion for each other again - and of course of having hot Romantic Sex!!
So scroll down, have fun and be inspired for your next own romantic sex adventure!
The best Romantic Sex Stories of Real Life married Couples we've found
#1 GETTING HIM BACK by Sarah
The first thing I noticed about David was the way that he loved to give himself for everyone.
While this was romantic at the beginning, I have to admit that I started taking more and more. Well, he was there and he was giving.
I had come from a place where giving was a big deal and seeing that David was prepared to give just about anything for me spurred me into asking for more and more and more.
I wanted all of him, and he was willing to give me that. To top it all up, he was handsome. He was tall, measuring over six feet with his charming, one-sided smile that always had me. His eyes were the lightest of grays like he was some kind of a descendant of the old, greek gods, and he had a body that was fit for the ages.
It was no wonder that I fell in love with him. He did all the romantic things every day. He would take me out to dinner, surprise me when I got home to a candle-lit dinner, make love to me till my soul was exhausted. I could not believe that he was real.
I was finally with someone who could see me for me, and I did not want to let him go. After our marriage, he even did more. I thought he was going to slow down and change, but he did not. He became sweeter.
However, five years down the line, it happened. I think it was after the birth of our first daughter, Sophia. She was beautiful, so beautiful that I envied her. She was a replica of me, but a better version, and I loved her with every bit of me. But I noticed that Dave's attention on me was beginning to dwindle. He was spending more time with her. When she became five, I realized that I had lost something.
This morning, as I watched him dress for work without the usual enthusiasm, I wanted to grab him from the back and remind him of what I was to him. That was when it struck me.
It had always been 'what I am to him', never 'what he is to me'.
I did not know how it happened, but I was just realizing that I had learned too much to the extreme and had turned into the very thing that I hated about my parents. I had become what they were and what I loathed. Here I was sapping up all the attention and giving nothing in return.
"I will see you later," he said before he walked down the stairs. I knew that he was going to look into the room of our daughter, Sophia and that his tone with her would be entirely different from his tone with me.
I wanted to get angry about this.
How dare he?
How dare she?
How dare they steal the love that I had?
But I realized that I was the problem. I had not loved him as much as he had loved me. Every day, I had been on the receiving end of his love. I tried to buy things, but I gave up. He was richer than I was. What could I ever buy for him that he could not get for himself?
Then I got too lazy to think. He was more creative than I was and could think up surprises. He would see my efforts as amateur. These thoughts were the strings that held me back from showing him that I loved him too. And now, when I looked at him, I could see that he was tired of having to hold down the forte for a long time. His shoulders were broad, but he had gotten weary.
I held myself as I held Sophia's loud giggling while she wished her father a good day. She had done more than I had done. I was so starved of attention as a kid that when I got it here, I forgot that I had to give it back.
I was still sitting on our bed when I heard the sound of his car engine revving up as he prepared to drive to work. I sat there listening to the car engine slowly fading in the distance as Dave drove to work. It felt odd like I was losing it. I was losing the mind of the one man I loved, the man who loved me more than anything in the world. I was losing it, and I had a hard time thinking of what I was going to do to get it back.
I walked down the stairs to see Sophia at the window. She was still looking after her father had left. I could not deny it, but it had been difficult sharing my love with this little, adorable one. Sometimes, I felt Dave would love her so much that he would forget about me, yet that did not make me love her any less.
"Dad has left," she said.
“I know,” I replied, settling into one of the sofas.
That was when I saw one of the cards sticking from under the seat. I pulled it out and saw Sophia's scrawling all over it. There were letters all declaring her love for her dad. I realized she was not holding anything back and that she was actually teaching me something. She was only five years old, and she was already teaching me how to love.
“You wrote this?” I asked.
“Yes, mom, do you like it?”
I could not speak for a while. How did I end up being the very thing that I disliked? How was it that it was my toddler that was teaching me how to love? What had I been doing? I had only been demanding, telling Dave which car and which bag I wanted. I had never bothered to ask what he wanted.
“Thank you,” I said, realizing what I had to do.
I could not wait for the day to end, to hear the sound of his car as he guides it up the driveway. It was the weekend, and Sophia did not have to go to school. I wondered if I should take her to Dave’s parents’ house. They would be happy to see her, but Dave would not be so happy if I did not tell him.
“I want you to help me surprise daddy,” I finally said, realizing there was no way I was going to remove our daughter out of the equation. She was part of our lives now.
The wait that followed was one of the longest waits of my life. I could not stay still. The more the day crawled towards the night, the more anxious I got.
What if this was not the problem?
What if nothing could bring me and Dave as close as we were before? What if he had realized that he could live without me?
The questions lived rent-free in my head making me worry.
I felt a little hand on mine and looked up to see my daughter staring into my eyes as if she could read my thoughts.
“Don’t worry. Daddy will be back soon, okay?” she said reassuringly and nodded her head. I wanted to ask her if she could hear my thoughts or see them, but I caught myself. My worries were beginning to make me lose my mind.
“Okay,” I said.
The sound of his car on the gravel outside pumped anxiety straight into my heart, but Sophia was ready already. I turned off the light to the entire house when I heard him walk up to the house. He paused and I heard him mutter a few cusswords beneath his breath
When he got up to the door and opened it, light from outside streamed into the house, but it was not enough to illuminate it.
“Anybody home?” he asked.
“Tadaaa!” I screamed with Sophia as I turned on the light.
He jumped back, shocked and surprised. Then his eyes slowly traveled all over the room. I had (sigh), we had decorated it with some ribbons.
There was this canvas where I wrote:
welcome to the best dad and the best lover in the world.
I watched his face, and I wanted to cry with relief. His eyes were melting from the hard executive's eyes into jelly-softness. Were those tears that I could see in his eyes? The light glinted off them. I watched Sophia run into his arms while he remained there. My message had hit the spot. He let her down and turned to me.
“You did this?” he asked.
“We… we did it,” I said, indicating Sophia.
“Mom misses you,” Sophia said. I gasped.
I did not know when Dave covered the distance between us and wrapped me in his embrace. My hands were limp by my side, but not for long. I had missed this side of Dave, this unreserved, self-sacrificing side. My hands snaked around his side till I was gripping him hard. It seemed he understood because he held me tighter. Beside us, Sophia was signing a nursery rhyme, then she ran up to us to join in the hug.
I do not know how long we stayed like this, but I did not want to leave Dave again.
I was afraid that if I leave him, he would be lost to me again, and this time, forever. Silently, I made a vow to return whatever love he showered me with twofold. He deserved it, and it had been long coming.
That night, we were both in Sophia's room. She wanted Dave to read her story.
Apparently, he was the more entertaining the both of us. I could not deny him that. She was right.
I sat by the corner watching him read the story. The old story of Snowwhite and the dwarves. It was his expression as he read the story that made me fix my eyes on him. It was difficult to look away from his lips. I was realizing once again what he meant to me, and not just what he did for me made him mean to me. It was all so eye-opening. Those red lips, his expressive eyes, the dimples on both sides of his cheeks, and his smile that would never dry up. I loved that he was looking at our daughter in that way, but I also wanted him to look at me like that.
He finally did. By then, Sophia was snoring lightly.
“You look tired,” I said.
“I am,” he replied. “My back aches.”
It was refreshing to hear him talking about his weaknesses. It was the first time he was openly admitting to me that he was tired. Other times, he would simply nod at my unending stories.
We got to our room and I pushed him on the bed and stood over him.
"Whoa, what is going on, superwoman?" he asked, chuckling. His humor was slowly returning. None of the drab 'my day was okay' responses every day when I managed to ask about his day.
“Turn around,” I commandeered.
“What is happening?” he asked.
“Just turn, babe.”
He did. I got some oil and got to the bed. Slowly, I pulled his shirt off him. The singlet came off too till he was naked from the waist up. After that, I poured the oil on his back and began caressing it slowly. I was going to massage the soreness from his back away. I was going to give and give and give until he was tired of receiving. He sighed and groaned in turn as my hands ran over his back.
I loved the effect that my hands were having on him.
His back had muscles bunched up in places, and I had to run my hands over and over those places until I was sure that the soreness was easing up.
After some time, I noticed that he had fallen asleep. I smiled. I had my man back, but I was not done doing everything that I wanted to do to him. I was going to rent out a whole Ferris wheel just to celebrate him and remind him of the kind of man that he was. I did not go to work. I did not need to. Dave provides everything that we need. All I had to do was to take care of Sophia and make sure she was the same sweet bundle of joy just like her father. But for now, I had something that I needed to do.
I rolled Dave over while he muttered in his sleep. Then I pulled his pants down. I knew he was tired, but I could not resist the urge to go for the meat between his legs. So that was just what I did, pulling down his underwear.
I took his cock in my mouth. When I said I wanted to give till there was nothing left to give, I meant it in every way possible.
At first, he remained asleep, muttering some word now and then, jerking when the stimuli really got to him. I continued sucking, my hand reaching towards his nipples. His chest was not as tight as it was when we first got married, but they were not any less desirable to me. Then he woke up.
“What…what are you doing?” he stammered, trying to sit up.
I pushed him down with my hand. The force was not enough to push him down, but he still laid back down.
"Shhhhhh," I said, taking a moment from what I was doing. Then I returned to gripping the tip of his cock with my mouth. I sucked, and he shuddered.
“Damn,” he said, groaning. His hands came to my head and entangled themselves with my hair.
I slipped the cock out of my mouth and ran my tongue along the length and breadth of it, looking at him as I did. I knew exactly how seductive I looked doing that. It made him groan again as I took his cock in my mouth again. I pushed it in farther than I had ever done and almost gagged on it when I felt the cock at the back of my throat. I slipped it back and began to run my hand over it.
“You woke me,” Dave said weakly.
“Don’t you like it?” I asked.
He could not speak again because at that moment I got rid of my dress and got on top of him.
Sucking him already had me wet. I could not wait.
I guided his length into my wetness and leaned into his body. It had been a long time since I felt this kind of connection. And from the way Dave sighed, I knew that he missed this too. It had been a while since we felt this close to each other. I started slowly, anticipating what would soon burst into the most passionate ride of my life.
“How do you like being ridden?” I asked, confident that my love was back, a love I knew I was not going to lose again.
#2 GETTING IT TOGETHER by Jeff
On the bed, one night, I turned to my wife, Eva, and said, “did you manage to close the business deal?”
"Yes," she replied with a small voice that I was quickly made aware that something was wrong. Her voice was usually loud when she talked about her business deals and the way she was closing deals with her new advertising company.
She had done a lot more than I had thought she would, started an advertising company from the scratch and raised them to be competitors with mine. Of course, I always boasted that it was because of my input that her company could be compared with mine now, and this argument would rage on for days on end. "You cannot accept that there is someone better or as good as you, can you, Jeff?" she would ask. "Well, I am a genius," I would reply. "It would take a whole lot to be as good as I am, don't you think?"
And on and on we would argue.
However, recently, I noticed she was getting into a shell. She hardly spoke unless I spoke to her. Talking about her business and the progress that she had made was becoming alien. Each time I had to speak to her before she would reply. It made me realize something. Our existence was being reduced to business deals and business talks. If I had no business to talk about, we would have no conversation.
After her small and uninterested ‘yes’, she turned around to the other side, her back to me, as if I was boring her. I kept staring at her backside, and that was when it hit me.
When last did I touch my wife intimately?
When last did we have sex?
When last did we listen to each other talk about ourselves as people and not as computers, as automations that close business deals?
I reached out to touch her. Her body was still firm. Somehow, she was still managing to keep herself fit. Me? Maybe I had not blown over because of the stress. She murmured and sidled farther away from me. I moved closer still. My hand snaked around to her front. Her pink silk nightgown was bought just for the occasion that I was not imagining in my mind. I wanted us to join together and be one again. I wanted to hear her moaning under me, to look up at me the way she always did when we were just young and full of dreams. At thirty-five, she still had the same face, the same body, but I did not know about her mind.
“What are you doing?” she asked when my hand touched one of the molds on her chest.
“What do you mean what am I doing?” I asked. Then I winced. That was not the response I was supposed to give. Everything did not have to be a competition about who came out tops.
“I am tired, Jeff. I had a long time at work today,” she said and pushed my hand away from her.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “We haven’t been intimate in a long while and I make the move and you…”
“Not today, Jeff, not today.”
She was breathing lightly again. I rolled away from her, staring at her with disbelief.
There was a time when she would never refuse my touch when she did not know how to when all we had was passion and dreams. But we quickly realized that passion and dreams were not going to get us the life we wanted, so we became serious. I think we pushed to the far side too much. The image of her naked body in my mind, her silver hair, and her light blue eyes kept running through my mind. It would be a torture to sleep that night. I rolled over trying to sleep, but I knew that it would not be possible.
Eva had started sleeping. She did not even need to think about it. There was a way she slept, like she was gasping.
The first gasp would come, inflating the sides of her body, then she would continue sleeping normally. I had noticed this about her from the first time we met. At first, I was troubled, thinking it was some sort of lung problem. But as the days passed and we got closer together, I realized it was just her. I would keep my arm around her tiny waist and wait for it. When it comes, I would stay that way for some time, inhaling the sweet scent of her, then I would stand up to go work.
All of that seemed to be in the past now. We both had changed. At thirty-eight, I was beginning to worry that the way that I had taken and shown her was not the best of ways. I stood up from the bed and walked downstairs to the sitting room. I sat on the sofa watching and started watching a show. It did not take long before I fell asleep.
Morning came with the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs before I felt someone’s light touch on my shoulder.
“Jeff, don’t you have to go to work?” she asked.
Even through the curtains of sleep, I recognized Eva’s voice. Her voice was one of the things that drew me to her even before I saw her face. I had heard her arguing with someone in a restaurant.
When I turned around to see the face, I was surprised that the face matched the voice perfectly.
That was where I started wooing her. Fun days those were. She kept running away, unsure of herself. I could see it in her eyes that she felt she was not worthy of being loved. But I kept going after her. One of my fond memories of her was when I mastered her routine and dropped at each of her bus stops before her to gift her flowers. There were three bus stops in all, and I had a photographer follow me. At the last one, she was blushing so much the reds on her cheeks could have been mistaken for cherries. I had all the pictures somewhere, digitally documented.
"Do I?" I asked.
“What is wrong?” she asked. “You have been acting strangely since last night.”
This was now our new normal, not being married to work meant I was acting strangely, and it was all because of me. Finding the right balance in life was always the most difficult thing, and I had failed at it.
“Must you go to work?” I asked, then I realized that I was asking as a boss in my business place, the tone, the attitude, the look, the poise. Why could I not get rid of all of these to fix my family? “I mean, do you have to go to work today?” I asked in a much softer tone.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “I closed the deal yesterday. The investors are flying in today. I have to be there to make sure that everything goes smoothly.”
“What about us?” I asked.
She was all dressed for work. Power suit, long, slender legs in trousers, dark glasses, well-moisturized lips. She was even more beautiful than I remembered, and I wondered why I had not been able to see this.
For how many nights?
What was wrong with her?
What was wrong with me?
“Are you sure?” she asked as she walked towards the door without waiting for my reply. She pulled the door open. “Later, Jeff. We will talk when I get home.”
“I…am not sure,” I said and bowed my head in disappointment. This was what we had been reduced to. Business before family, before pleasure, before every other thing.
I stood up and went to the door to see her enter her car. The car grumbled to life, and she was gone in no time. She had become another version of me, busy, impatient and unwilling to slow down. I had pointed her to the tracks and said ‘run’, now, she would not stop running.
I have to do something, I decided, getting up from my seat. But I sat down again. I did not have the faintest idea of what to do to bring her back. I thought it was by chance that I even came to this place myself.
Now that I am here, I felt like I had been lost for a long time. Something was making a loud noise at the back of my mind, something that irritated me, something I wished that I could wave away with a flick of my hand. But no matter how much I wished I could, the noise continued. Finally, I snapped out of my thoughts and listened clearly to the sound. It was the sound of the telephone. I picked the receiver.
“Jeffery Connor,” I said.
“Sir,” a familiar voice said over the telephone. It was Duke, my PA. “Are you not coming in today?”
“No,” I said without thinking. “You guys are going to have to do without me today.”
“What? You have a meeting with Mr. Drury.”
“It can wait.”
“No, we are not talking about this anymore. Just reschedule the meeting.”
I put the phone down and sighed. I had a faint idea of what I was going to do. But before that, I walked back to our room and started looking through the wardrobe. It was not long before I found the memory card containing details of the day that I broke down Eva’s walls of insecurity. I picked it up and walked back to the sitting room downstairs, slotted it in and sat down to watch it.
Few hours later, I was gripped with nostalgia. Quickly, I got up from my seat and walked over to the window. A walk would help me so much right now, I thought. Walking through the streets of the city towards the park had never left me this clearheaded.
I knew exactly what I had to do to bring my wife back to me, to pull her away from the corporate jaws where I had sacrificed her so willingly. My hands were in my pockets as I walked. The day was not looking so drab after all. Life was not just a series of corporate meetings and some profit and loss.
I finally found a bench and sat on it to watch other couples I saw meeting by the street corners. There was light and hope in their eyes and passion. My god, the passion. They reminded me of when Eva and I began on this romantic journey before we decided we did not need any children. It was like I was seeing other colors of the rainbow now instead of just the impersonal gray color that was business alone.
When I got back that day, it was with a bouquet of flower, red roses that I spread all the way from the front door to the bedroom with light as well. In the bedroom, I wrote a poem on the wall, lined it up with blinking lights.
It simply read: I cannot lose you again.
I turned all the lights in the house off, then I waited for her to come home.
It took a lot of self-control not to call her. I did not want to spoil what I wanted to do for her. I could not wait to see the expression on her face. I was finally relieved when I heard the sound of her car coming up the driveway. I waited. She walked into the sitting room before I turned on the light.
All the way from our room upstairs, I heard her gasp.
I lay on the bed and waited. She got to the door and pushed it open slowly, peeking into the darkroom.
“What is this?” she asked.
Her voice had become little again. I could tell that she was trying to control her emotions. The room was so dark that she could not see me. When the words I had made on the wall blinked, she put her arms around herself, still staring. Then the light in the room came on. I was sitting on the bed, staring at her. She was standing, staring at both me and the wall in disbelief.
“You did this?” she asked. Her voice was shaky. It assured me that I was doing something right at least.
“Why?” she asked.
“I was losing you,” I replied, standing from the bed.
There were too many expressions fighting for release on her face. Overcome with too many of them, she simply moved towards me for a hug and embraced me fiercely.
It was not a warm hug or one of those cursory hugs that we had become used to giving each other, it was a hug filled with passion.
It told me she was missing something, probably the very same thing that I had been missing: us. She held me so tight like she was afraid of me running away. Then she looked up at my face. There was hunger in her eyes, the same hunger that I felt was reflected in my own eyes. I bent towards her and took her lips. She reciprocated, turning from the icy business woman that I had seen just this morning into soft butter, water that could not wait to fit into my hard shape.
“I have missed you,” she said.
I had missed her more, and all the while I had thought we were living the successful couple’s life. I grabbed her ass and squeezed. Both of us knew what followed after that. It was in our rusty memory, which made it even better. Because our memory was rusty, there was no routine for this now to make it boring.
Our bodies had missed our touch, so hands soon cast aside our clothes, and we found ourselves exposed to each other in all our nakedness, nothing hidden.
I kept her on the table and went for her nipple. They were standing erect, taut on top of her molds. I squeezed and sucked, listening to her moans make music to my ears.
When I went down, I realized that she had been wet for long, expecting me. My cock was hard and stretched. I slipped it through her juicy wetness, in-between her fat mounds and realized that I had been homesick.
She moaned, and I groaned. Then I began moving.
Her hands gripped my head tight and ran madness all over it as her fingers dug into my hair. The very moaning sound from her lips was enough to make me lose control.
One question remained in my mind through all of these: when did we lose it? Why did I allow myself lose sight of something like this?
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