How finding [m]y wi[f]e’s G-spot saved my marriage and turned her into an insatiable slut

Longtime lurker, first post. Sorry this got a bit out of hand. There is a long foreplay during the day. The G-spot action starts in the comments; you can skip ahead if you'd like.

Some context

I had been in a dead bedroom for six years, ever since my wife fell pregnant with our child. She had turned into a full-time mom. I had tuned out of our marriage. We somehow still stayed together.

Her birthday arrived. She cares a lot about her birthday. A LOT.

We had some big fights recently, and I had not always been on my best behaviour, so when she invited me to spend the day with her, I agreed. The child would be at school. Our first full day together without the child, ever (she has never spent a single night away from him).

By the time the birthday arrived, we had had another big fight. The night before. I still went with her. I had to move around things at work to take off a random Tuesday and did not want to backtrack on that. She was irritated but could not get around to telling me directly to fuck off and stay home. So I went.

Daytime

We dropped our son at school and took the train into the city. We live in the outskirts of a big European capital. We just went into the city to stroll around, sit in cafes and restaurants and eat and drink.

We had a posh breakfast. We walked around the streets. Art galleries. Taking pictures. It was nice. She was still mad but appreciated the effort of me taking off a random Tuesday for nothing in particular really other than to spend time with her. On her birthday. Never done that before. I had always been there on her birthdays, of course. But never really present.

Suddenly it started raining. We found ourselves running hand in hand, under a small umbrella, laughing, to an open pub we had spotted down the street. We made it in. We created a puddle when we set our foot in. We were the only customers.

We ordered champagne and cocktails before noon, because why not?

Then I suddenly find myself stood up, leaning over her chair, holding her face, kissing her deeply. I prolong the kiss and gently pull her head back by holding onto her hair. She's got very nice full dark hair that I used to love to hold.

A switch turns on. A switch that turns her on. Blood running into her lips, filling them, breathing hard. Out of of the blue.

"I loved that you pulled my hair like this. I love it when you dominate me!"

More making out. Eye fucking. She is wet. I am hard.

We discuss whether we should go to the bathroom here and now.

Did I say we are the only ones in the place?

We look around. All eyes are on us. The two guys in the kitchen. The bartenders. All looking into our direction. Pretending not to.

When we were young, way back, and dating, we had done it in public bathrooms a couple of times. Once very drunk in a club with only one unisex toilet. We had to walk our walk of shame back onto the dance floor past a very long line…

We decided against it. Still had to use the bathrooms to pee (because, cocktails, champagne). All watched us going in and coming out. Some disappointed faces when we came out of different doors.

The ice is broken. We walk down a public staircase from a hill. You will all know the hill. You will have seen the staircase in a show on Netflix. Or on a screen of a movie theatre, if you are our age. I slide my hand into her trousers. Below her underwear. She is soaked. I finger her. She flinches. People walk by. I rub her clit. She almost came right there.

We behave and have lunch. We take the subway on our way back. I have my hand under her pants, on her ass. My middle finger caresses her butthole. My other two fingers periodically spread apart her cheeks. She gets very turned on by having her pussy lips spread this way. I can feel the wetness whenever they open. I rub my fingers along. She bites her lip. I kiss her neck.

We are fine. We have our coats on. Scarves hanging over. It is winter. Surely no one will notice. Except that one guy who keeps staring at us. I look him in the eye, he looks away. Yep, he noticed. Oops.

Leaving the subway I tell her. It turns her on.

We are back at our car. Still ten minutes until school pick-up. We put in a frantic make-out session on the back set. She takes me in the mouth for a taster. I finger her a bit. She is still soaked. People walk by. Thank you whoever invented tinted windows!