Chapter 1

The most important night of my entire life happened nine months ago today. That was when I learned things about myself, but more importantly, about my wife, that took me so much by surprise that I still haven't completely come to terms with them.

Up until that time, I had assumed that our marriage was pretty much typical of all the others in our city, and probably in the entire country, for that matter. In the space of about three hours, though, I found that what I had assumed to be true was not, and that our lifestyle, as well as my own desires, were anything but mainstream.

We had been married for seven years by then, and almost from the first, I knew that Sharon wasn't all that satisfied with my attempts at lovemaking, but she was always very patient with me. She tried talking to me to get me cooled off enough to the point that she could actually climax, too, but it seemed that my short fuse, in terms of emptying my balls, just wouldn't be denied. There were many times when I had just barely put the head inside her wonderful pussy that I'd start climaxing, no matter what I tried to do to prevent it.

Sharon put up with my failings for almost a year, but then she decided that enough was enough, and when we climbed into our bed one night, she told me that we needed to have a serious talk. I immediately thought that maybe she wanted to talk about having a baby, but that was completely wiped from my mind when she said, "Honey, I'm tired of being frustrated in bed all the time. Surely you know that I'm not cumming when we have sex, don't you?"

I stammered out that I did know, but that I just didn't know what to do. I told her I was ashamed of myself for having such a hair trigger, but that I just couldn't seem to help myself. It was easy to tell that she was deadly serious about the problem, and I was actually afraid that she was going to tell me she didn't want to be married to me anymore. I was so afraid that it was all I could do to ask, "What can we do? I want to make you happy, but I just don't know what to do."

Her reply was short and sweet, and as she ran her finger over my lips, she whispered, "Oral."

I suppose it will surprise many of you reading this to learn that we had never done that particular type of lovemaking, and I'm sure it was entirely my fault that we hadn't. I was raised in a very strait-laced family, which did nothing to prevent me from thinking about oral sex, but, because of my upbringing, I was convinced that my wife would think me a horrible pervert if I ever tried such a thing. Now that she had been the one to suggest that I do something so exciting, I felt an immediate bolt of lust surging through my crotch. It's a wonder that my balls didn't begin to empty right then and there, but, thankfully, they didn't.

From that point on, both that night and the rest of our life together, Sharon took charge. Since she always slept in the nude, she didn't need to waste time getting undressed, but merely placed one hand on my head and began to push it under the covers, and toward her waiting crotch. In a husky whisper, she said, "I'll tell you what to do. All you have to do is just get down there and do it."

So I did. As she gave me a quick lesson in female anatomy, she'd tell me things like, "Now when you're licking me there, go real slow at first. Suck the lips in your mouth one at a time and run your tongue over them. Don't bother with sticking your tongue up my pussy; that doesn't do a thing for me until I get really hot. When you feel my clit start to get hard press your tongue against it with more force."

Her lessons went on and on, and by the time she was unable to continue speaking, and her only sounds were gasps of pleasure, I was beginning to feel proud of myself for the first time ever during lovemaking. To top it off, when her legs locked around my head, almost as if she were trying to crush my skull, I was so happy that I just couldn't stop my crotch from rubbing against the sheet, which had the expected result.

From that night on, any time we had sex, my tongue was my primary sex organ. I always prided myself on my growing ability to bring her to completion, and give her the reward she deserved for being the most wonderful woman and wife in the whole world. As for Sharon, she began to tell me on a regular basis what a wonderful lover I had become, and how much more she loved me now. I loved hearing that, and her words made me feel so good that I didn't mind that we rarely, anymore, had what most people would think of a "normal" sex.

There were some occasions, though, when we still had actual sexual intercourse. However, she always made me promise that if she didn't cum when we were fucking, I would use my tongue to help her do that. As with any man in that situation, my full balls always made me promise that I'd do anything she wanted. Surprisingly enough, after the first couple times, anyway, I began to lose any revulsion I originally had about licking my own semen from my wife's pussy, and even, after a few weeks, began to actually tolerate the taste, if not enjoy it. Apparently a male will do just about anything to get sexual release, won't he?

That state of affairs continued pretty much unchanged for the next five years, and I was sure that Sharon was just as satisfied with our live life as I was. By then, a lot of the excitement had gone out of our lovemaking, and we were usually doing that only twice a week. Strangely enough, our "schedule" had come to be Thursdays and Saturdays. I have no idea how those two nights were chosen, but that was the case with us.

That schedule changed about six months after our fifth wedding anniversary, when Sharon became a member of a group she described as, "Just a bunch of us girls sitting around drinking coffee and gossiping." She told me that the group would meet every Wednesday night, and asked me if that schedule were okay. My only response was that the night of the week didn't matter. I was actually glad that she had outside interests, mainly because she seemed to be much more cheerful after she started attending the meetings.

Another change that immediately happened was that she decided we would change our Thursday night "sessions" to Wednesday nights. Again, she made that decision all by herself, which was the usual state of affairs in our household by then.

My first inkling that a change had been made came when she returned home after the first meeting. I was already in bed, since it was close to midnight when I heard the garage door operator running, and then the door from the garage being closed as she entered the house. In a matter of seconds, she walked through the bedroom door, and in the dim illumination provided by the nightlight in the hallway, I could see that she was undressing as she walked.

I was barely awake when she climbed in bed, but there was no mistaking that she was breathing heavily and that she was aroused. Without saying anything to me, she placed one hand on my upper shoulder and pushed me to my back. With no hesitation, she lifted one leg over my body, then moved up until she was straddling my face. As she lowered herself to me, her voice rasped, "Eat it! Hurry! Make me cum!"

That brought me wide awake in a split second, and my dick immediately erected. I'd been giving her oral sex like that for a long time by then, but her level of arousal right then was higher than I'd ever before known it to be. It was as if her lust were triggering my own, and in an instant I was almost as hot as the wonderful woman sitting on my mouth. I began to give her what she needed.

By that time in our marriage, I'd been providing oral sex for almost six years, and many of those times had been after I'd already ejaculated in her pussy. I knew how wet that would make her, and had come to actually crave the sensation of her juices on my tongue. That special Wednesday night, when she came home from the meeting, made me think I'd never before known how wet she could actually be. Her juices were not only in her opening, they were also spread all around it. It was about all I could do to swallow one mouthful before another load was being taken in by my feverish tongue.

Not only was her wetness much different than ever before, but there was also a much different taste that what I was used to. Always before, her juices alone, or mine combined with hers, had a very mild, salty taste. Now, what I was tasting was much-more salty, and it smelled more "musky," for want of a better word. Right then, though, I was so hot, and so caught up in Sharon's own lust, that my only thought was to make her cum a quickly as possible, so I just concentrated on the lessons she'd given me all those years before, and before long, she began to respond.

She climaxed more quickly that night than at any time before in our marriage, and like any male would, I was convinced it was because of my skill in providing oral sex. That sense of accomplishment had always given me a great deal of satisfaction, and what I felt that night was the same. However, coupled with that feeling was another even greater: I was almost out of my head with the need to cum.

As I lay there beneath her, my tongue continued to lap up the remaining traces of her arousal, and then, as she lifted off me, it went to work on my lips. It seems my brain was determined to get every last drop of her delicious juices, and I continued to do so even after my wife straightened her body beside mine. She took me in her arms then, pulling me onto my side once again, and then kissing me with a strength and passion that had been rare during the past years. I responded in kind, my body unconsciously trying to force my crotch against hers, so that I could gain the kind of release she had experienced just moments earlier.

Her only reaction was to pull away from me, then to say harshly, "Lie still, will you? Do you have to always be rubbing that thing against something?" Her disapproval immediately cooled my ardor, and I lay there quietly, hoping she'd forgive me.

She must have done so right away, because she then asked, "Did you like eating my pussy tonight?"

I tried to tell her how very, very much I had loved it, and would probably have been talking about it to this day if she hadn't interrupted me, saying, "Did you like eating it when it was all wet like that?"

That time, I tried to control myself, and limited my answer to a fervent, "I loved it! Just knowing you were really hot seemed to make me that way, too."

She chuckled deep in her throat, then whispered in my ear, "I was hoping you'd feel that way." Again there was a pause while she kissed me, then she continued, "Did it taste better than ever before?"

I thought about trying to explain the taste had been much different than usual, but soon realized my overtaxed brain wasn't up to the task. Instead, I answered in a whisper of my own, "You always taste wonderful, but tonight it was . . . I don't know, just different in a way that I can't explain. It tasted better than I ever remember."

She chuckled again, then said, "Good. I was just sure you'd like it." Again, there was a pause before she continued, "Do you want to do it again next week when I come home from the meeting?"

It was all I could do to keep from yelling out my answer, but at last I gained control of my throat, then said, "Yes. Please. I want to do that just as much as possible."

Again her reply was, "Good." Then she continued, "Do you want to cum now?"

God in heaven! That was the answer to my prayers, because I'd wanted nothing else ever since she'd mounted my face. I strained to control myself long enough to say, "Please."

She almost broke out in full-throated laughter at the need that was so evident in my voice, but at last she asked, "Honey, do you remember all those times when you used to cum too soon, and leave me hanging?" I could only make a small moan of assent, which she acknowledged by continuing, "Well, I want you to know how that feels. I want you to know what it's like to feel that ache in your crotch because you can't cum. But most of all, I want you to want that just as much as I do." Again she paused, and I lay there with my heart full of dread, until she at last said, "Do you love me enough to do that for me? Will you promise to not play with yourself until I tell you that you can?"

It was almost more than I could do to come to terms with what she was asking of me, but after clearing my throat several times, I croaked, "Yes. I love you more than that. I'll do whatever you want."

Her only response was to say, "Good. That means no jerking off and no rubbing it on the sheet." She then rotated to lie on her stomach, saying sleepily, "Rub my back. I'm so tired I'm about to pass out."

And so that's exactly what I did. I caressed and lightly scratched her back, concentrating on all the itchy spots that a husband comes to know so well. After less than two minutes, I could tell by her breathing that she was sound asleep, and I rolled to my back and tried to relax. I knew that if I dared to sleep on my stomach, which I sometimes did, I'd be unable to keep my promise to her, and I did my best to resolve to never again sleep in that position.

Continued in Chapter 2.