Little More

It was done, over in little more than a moment. But when the moment had passed I couldn't help but wonder what had taken us so long to finally do it.

My wife and I had been together for over a decade. In that time we had engaged in all manner of foreplay and sex, much of it genuinely erotic, some of it humorous and a smattering of it disappointing. We prided ourselves on regularly sharing our ever-evolving fantasies with one another, as many of the couples we knew led what we knew to be drab or unfulfilling lives both in and out of the bedroom. Polly and I, though hardly consumed with sex, were nonetheless not the least bashful about making plans to try something new on occasion in an effort to keep our marriage strong. We were (and are) very much in love and meant to remain so.

After a recent evening of pleasing her orally, it occurred to me that she had not spent much time with her mouth on me of late, at least not beyond the brief suckle-and-stroke she employed to get me hard enough to penetrate her. I knew she didn't enjoy staying down on me for a variety of reasons, but she was plenty skilled at the act and I missed the many thrills her particular method afforded. She had long ago ceased swallowing my semen, and would instead point me toward her chin or chest as I came. Which was fine. But I also knew that there was almost no chance, given how much warning I customarily gave her, that she could still somehow avoid getting at least a

little

of my semen in her mouth once my orgasm commenced. With that in mind, I sent her an invitation to attempt something about which I'd long been curious but we had never actually done. I didn't know how receptive she would be under the circumstances–a lot depended on her mood when she read what I'd written–but it was arousing to merely contemplate.

"As you know, I've always found it terribly exciting when you accept my kiss after I've made you come with my mouth,"

my email began

. "Next time you return the favor, might we share a little of my taste once you've pleasured me?"

Up to this point in my life, I'd never sampled semen, not as such. Given my propensity for masturbation throughout my adolescence and young adulthood, however, its aroma was certainly not unfamiliar to me. And it was also quite possible that I had gotten an inadvertent taste or two over the years of my marriage while going down on Polly after losing control prematurely during intercourse and soaking her quim. Beyond that, though, I reckoned it had remained foreign to my palate.

Polly's reply was several days in arriving in my mailbox, but not for lack of enthusiasm on her part. She apologized for being so tardy, but she made it clear that I could expect her to grant what she understood to be my wish before the week was out. Sure enough, the very next night, she led me to bed immediately following dinner.

She told me to lie on my back while she disrobed, after which she reapplied the lipstick she wore to make up her face each morning as she readied herself for work. She then crawled slowly across the covers to where I lay watching her, and swung her legs to either side of my head. Once settled there, I busied myself kissing her swollen, succulent labia and, in due course, feathering her clit with my anxious tongue.

Polly writhed atop me for ten or so minutes, long enough to have a pair of muscular orgasms, then sat down next to me and paused to let her legs finish their quivering. After completing a series of stretches to stave off any cramping she thought might follow, she moved between my now-bent knees, her feet curled up beneath her. Although her moaning and crying had spurred an earlier erection, my once-rigid cock was now flagging, a circumstance Polly immediately set about rectifying. She slowly but deftly worked the length of my shaft with her warm mouth and gentle hand, gliding up and back until I was firm enough to enter her.

Which is what I fully expected would happen next. Despite the delight she had betrayed in her email reply, I figured it would still take her several days or even weeks to work up the nerve to actually make good on her vow. Knowing she took exception to the deed itself anymore, I assumed I would be very fortunate were she to actually see this particular idea through. But to my surprise, Polly remained on task, even as she knew I was nearing what would doubtless be a violent orgasm.

As the semen began to fill my throbbing member, the intensity of her efforts increased. I was catching my breath by this time, which she would answer by humming in a call-and-response rhythm, urging me to the zenith of this sorely missed act. She knew I was about to erupt and began brushing her pendulous breasts across the backs of my thighs–something she often did to spur my tumescence when in a hurry to fuck–and tightened her grip on my shaft with her fist. Seconds later, I groaned and loosed a torrent of pent fluid into her mouth, which began streaming visibly from where it had been propelled down her fingers and onto my aching balls. From all indications, it was indeed a titanic burst.

As I glanced at the pool of jism now wetting what there was of my pubic hair, I began to silently lament an opportunity I thought forsaken. I feared my loving wife had let the chance she'd so confidently taken pass in a fit of squeamishness. When our lips met and my mouth opened to receive hers, however, I was met with sensations that were altogether different than those I'd expected, but ones not entirely unpleasant, either. As our tongues began their customary dance, I could easily detect a dollop of my ejaculate she had saved for our kiss. The flavor was at once shocking, despite my having been the one to suggest its exchange, and powerful. It was arousing, sure, but more than that it was heartening. I was reminded in an instant of how strongly Polly and I were bound, and how wonderful it was to have a partner who had so few inhibitions. It pleased me greatly to think that she might now finally appreciate how profound I considered her willingness to kiss me whenever I sought her lips after having lapped her piquant juices.

"Well," my lover said, cuddling up beside me, "did you enjoy that? Was it all you hoped it would be?"

I smiled, flush with the exhilaration of having stirred her in a way she clearly had not anticipated. "Truth be told, baby," I replied, "I did it for

you

."