Chapter 2

The next two days went by slowly, and by Saturday night I was just about out of my head with my need to cum. I was sure that I'd been "punished" sufficiently that Sharon would allow me to do so that very night.

As we climbed into our bed at our usual time of 11:00, it was just about all I could do to not immediately pull down my undershorts and get on top of her. Making my need all the more urgent was knowing that she never wore anything to bed, and I had always taken that as an open invitation to me.

That wasn't to be, though, as became evident when, instead of settling beside me as usual, she casually threw one leg over my body as she'd done the previous Wednesday night. As she moved up to my face, she said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, "Eat it again. Since I didn't promise to not cum, I'm going to let you make me do that. Get your tongue to work, little man." She'd never before called me that, but rather than being upset with it, it caused a thrill in my chest that was entirely new to me. However, it soon passed as I concentrated on giving her the best oral sex ever, hoping that would make her relent, and she would release me from my promise.

It didn't, of course. After I had licked and sucked her treasure for several minutes, she groaned in that deep-throated way that I just love to hear, and I knew she was climaxing. As always before, her thighs did their best to crush my skull, and she forced her pussy against my mouth so strongly that I was afraid she'd break my teeth, too.

Again we kissed after she'd dismounted, and I longed to hear her ask me if I wanted to cum, but she didn't. The only thing she did was to roll to her stomach, say, "Rub my back," and then to sigh deeply and fall asleep as I caressed her. Now all I had to look forward to was Wednesday, and hoping against hope that night would at last bring about my release from her silken bonds.

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By the time Sharon left for the meeting at 6:00 Wednesday evening, I was struggling to breathe. It seemed that my dick had been continuously hard for the past four days, and although that would be a stretch, it wouldn't be far from the truth.

Since she had told me to be in bed and ready for her when she returned, I didn't wait up. I was completely unable to fall asleep, of course, as anyone could understand. For that reason, I was wide awake when the garage door operator began to hum about midnight, and as I heard her enter the house I turned to my side so I could watch the bedroom door.

As she had done the previous week, she hurried into the bedroom, removing her clothes as she walked toward the bed. Her blouse hit the floor as soon as she stepped through the door, and in the dim light I could see her unbound breasts swaying with each step. I've always been fascinated by the fact that she never wears a bra, and simply can't think of a more arousing sight than her walking towards me with her breasts bouncing and her nipples poking at the fabric of her blouse. Right then, though, I was more than glad that I could faintly see the same sight with no cloth getting in the way.

She paused to step out of her shoes, and then placed one hand on the nearby dresser as she removed her socks. Her slacks were soon peeled down, and I watched avidly for the sight of her panties being removed in a like manner. Instead of doing that, though, she almost deliberately turned her body so that the hallway light was directly behind her. She then slowly spread her legs, and I could see her hand reaching toward her crotch. Again very deliberately, she pulled a wad of cloth from that part of her body, and I realized that not only was she not wearing her panties, but that they had been balled up and stuffed between her legs. I suppose if my brain had been capable of rational thought at that time, I'd have wondered why she had done that, but at that moment all I could think of was collapsing to my back in preparation for her.

She took the three steps to the bed, got on top of it on her knees, and then swung one leg over my chest. By the time she moved up to straddle my head, I was already moaning in lust, and as she paused to say, "I brought your midnight snack. Do you want to eat it now?," my only response was to put my hands on her hips and pull her down to me.

She sighed deeply as my tongue began its work, and then began to rock her crotch back and forth as she rode my mouth. I heard her hoarsely whisper, "You said you like to eat my pussy when it's all wet, so you should really like it tonight. I brought you a double load this time." Her words simply had no meaning for me right then, for my world didn't extend beyond her treasure and my mouth. I suppose that somewhere in the deep recesses of what passes for the male brain there was awareness that she seemed to be twice as full of her juices as the week before, but all that meant was that I would have to work twice as hard to get all of them before she climaxed and moved off my face. So I did.

She climaxed almost immediately, which, while satisfying to me, was also upsetting, because I thought she'd then get off and go to sleep. I kept licking and sucking, hoping against hope that would keep her in place for as long as I wanted. It must have worked, for she made no move to dismount, and I once again concentrated on giving her as much pleasure as possible.

Whether it was my efforts, or her own arousal that was the cause, after another couple minutes, she began to once again press her pussy against my mouth while she rocked and sighed. That made me redouble my attempts to bring her pleasure once more, and I was lost in a world of my own making as fantasy after fantasy filled my brain.

I was jerked out of my dreaming by her sudden intake of breath, and then when her thighs once again squeezed tightly against my head, I knew that a miracle had occurred: she had reached orgasm twice in just a short amount of time. That had never before happened when we made love, and in fact, even a single climax had become increasingly rare since we were first married. I'd have been pleased beyond measure right then, except for the fact that her second release in such a short time merely emphasized my own need to do the same.

Sharon almost collapsed forward onto her outstretched arms, and held that position for a long time as she began to regain her ability to breathe. At last, she lifted up, leaving my questing tongue licking nothing but the cold night air, and settled into place beside me. As she usually did when I had given her pleasure, she pulled me to her, and kissed me. I responded, struggling with my out-of-control body to not force itself against her and cause me to break my promise.

As she broke the kiss, I expected her to then roll to her stomach so I could rub her back while she fell asleep. Instead of doing that, though, she continued to lie there hugging me, with her face buried in my neck. Just when I began to think she'd fallen asleep in that strange position, she whispered in my ear, "What do you think about when you eat my pussy?"

That question took me so much by surprise that I simply couldn't answer for several seconds, and when I finally did, all I could say was, "I guess just how much I love doing that."

She was obviously not going to buy such a weak response, and continued, "No, that's not what I meant. I mean do you have fantasies when you're doing it?"

Her question was hitting too close to home for me to be comfortable with it, for I had always had fantasies that involved her. However, I was sure if she ever learned just exactly what they were about, she'd be so disgusted with me that she wouldn't love me anymore. As I was feverishly trying to think of something to say, she pressed again, saying, "I know you have fantasies, because sometimes you seem lots hotter than I expect. Tell me what they are, and I mean right now! Don't try to lie to me or I'll never let you cum again as long as you live!"

I was shocked by the angry tone of her voice, and knew there was no way out of my predicament. Trying to not offend her, while also doing what she wanted, I stammered, "I always think about . . . you know, what you told me about how . . . how to do it right. I think about how much I love it when you get on top, like you did tonight, and then make me do that to you. Just stuff like that."

She merely replied, in a very-firm tone of voice, "I didn't ask you what you think about. I asked you what you fantasized about. Now tell me, damn you!"

At last my brain understood there was no way out, and I tried to put my childish fantasies in terms she could more readily accept. "I think about you finding another man who can . . . do it better than me. I want you to let him make love to you, because it'd be better for you that way."

That apparently mollified her, because her voice was no longer angry, as she said, simply enough, "Me, too. How long have you been thinking about stuff like that?"

My answer came more easily then, even though my arousal had reached a new level with her admission that I wasn't alone in wanting her to have sex with other men. "I think I've always had those thoughts. I guess I knew right away that you weren't all that satisfied with me, and I always loved you so much that I wanted it to be better for you."

Again she confirmed my words with her own, "Me, too," before continuing with her questioning. "And if I did have sex with another man, you'd think it was okay?"

Her frank question just about locked my throat so tightly that it wouldn't allow me to speak, but at last I was able to squeak, "Yes."

That made her chuckle before she went on with the most-erotic conversation we'd ever had. "I was hoping you'd say that. If I did let another man fuck me, should I let him do me bareback?"

All I could do was nod in assent, and thankfully the light from the hallway was sufficient to allow her to see it. Her next question was even more direct. "Do you want me to let him cum inside my pussy?"

By then I was so far gone that I truly don't know what I said, but it must have been in the affirmative, because she continued, "And after he fills my pussy with his hot cum, what do you want me to do?"

She waited then, giving me time to struggle with my throat until I could say, "I want you to come home to me."

Her own breathing was almost as rapid as mine as she asked, "And then what? Do you want me to come to bed with you? Is that what you want me to do after I've fucked another man and let him fill my pussy with his hot, delicious cum?"

Again I squeaked my reply of, "Yes," which was her cue to ask the hottest question I'd ever heard. "Do you want me to sit on your face and make you lick up all his cum, and then make you suck every drop of it out of my pussy? Is that what you want me to make you do?"

I think I said, "Please," then, but I'm not sure. What little brainpower left to me at that time was completely centered between my legs, and that part of my body has always had a very short-term memory.

I do know that she kissed me once more, then rolled to her stomach. As she settled in place, she whispered just one word, a word which left me in such a state of arousal that I'm sure I was unable to sleep all the rest of the night.

That word was, "Okay."

Continued in Chapter 3