Swinging In The 70S Ch 08

"I think," I said, smiling at her, "that I'd like to watch you sometime."

Her eyes got big at that.

"David," she said, all big eyes, "Honey," and she wound down.

I held her eyes.

"You know what else I'd like?" I asked.

Her eyes got big and I saw understanding there.

"David," she said, but didn't go on.

I waited her out.

"David," she started again but stopped.

"I want to be the first, Monica," I said, "because I know it's pretty common among this group."

"David," she said again but rather than going on she got up quickly, went to the refrigerator, grabbed a

Budweiser

, put it on the table, and opened our little box where we kept our stash of pot. She took a long pull from the beer, carefully loaded the homemade pipe, one of my creations fabricated from brass plumbing components, and took a hit, hissing in the smoke as the pleasant burning leaves aroma of good pot filled the air.

Another pull on the beer and another hit on the pipe before she passed the pipe to me.

It's very good pot and I felt the little tingling behind my eyes almost immediately.

I took a pull on her beer, laughing when she slapped my hand.

She made breakfast then, moving confidently in the kitchen although I usually do breakfast. She looked great, moving in her T-shirt, her cute ass peeking out, the soft pubic hair peeking out when she turned, her hair still a bit flyaway, her breasts jiggling under the material. Oh yes, my Monica is eye candy.

In due course she had a short stack of pancakes, two sausage patties, and orange juice in front of me, to accompany the beer and pot.

But it felt funny. Monica and I know each other well enough to accept companionable silences. But this wasn't "companionable." It wasn't "cold," or "angry." But it wasn't "companionable" either. It was, well, "awkward."

And the thing that troubled me was, I didn't know why. Hell, we'd been married long enough that she knew I understood that, as they say, "no means no," and I would accept it.

But I couldn't figure out what was wrong and that left the, well, the tension getting worse.

She gathered up the dishes and I started to stand to help but she pushed me back, still not saying anything.

Dishes done, dry, and put away, she came to me and took my hands.

She held my eyes for a long ten count.

"Okay," she said.

And I honestly wasn't sure what she meant.

"Huh?" I said, showing my always-ready rapier wit.

She giggled.

"Okay, pervert," she said, "take me to bed and fuck me in the ass."

When I didn't say anything she said, "That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Sit," I said.

She sort of huffed and sat.

"Are you sure?" I asked, "Or is this breakfast beer and pot talking?"

She smiled and touched my hand across the table.

"Well, I'm not exactly a virgin," she said.

I chuckled, remembering that time, right after we were married. You know how newlyweds are. We were living in a little apartment at the time, laying on the bed and watching some silly sitcom when we got amorous. Well, okay, when I got amorous.

Before long we were spooned, my belly to her back, the television still going. When I slipped out I pushed back in and didn't realize I had, you know, "missed" until she started hollering "Take it out, take it out."

I pulled out, quickly, rubbed her back, kissed her neck, and then slipped back in, vaginally.

Since then, I had never even suggested anal sex until, well, about a half hour ago.

And now she was saying," Yes," and it was my turn to be nonplussed.

She was holding my eyes in that way I knew meant she was interested.

I took one more hit on the pot pipe, one more pull on the beer, stood, and offered my hand.

"Well, then, bring that cute little ass along," I said.

She stood and kissed me, a very good, full-on kiss, molding her body to mine, her hands on my bare ass making me realize I had kind of forgotten to put on any clothes.

"Of course," she said, smiling and giggling, "what's good for the goose is good for the gander."

At the thought of what she said, I literally sprang erect.

"Deal," I said, kissing her back, hard, reaching down and cupping her ass with both palms, lifting, spreading her cheeks, and touching where I intended to be soon.

In the bedroom I peeled off her T-shirt, enjoying her body as I always did. Her breasts were relatively large on her small frame, but with no sag since she had managed to avoid pregnancy. Her nipples were slightly oversized and very pale on small areolas. Hard, as they were now, the areolas almost disappeared under the nipples. Very nice breasts that I took the time to kiss now.

She hummed softly. She likes having her boobs played with.

She found my nipples and played with them before kissing and then suckling, biting a little, making me yelp.

We necked like that. We shared a quick hundred kisses. We touched each other, lightly caressed each other, found ticklish spots, and tickled and pinched a little.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

She smiled then, got up on all fours, grabbed my pillow, folded it double, put it under her hips, and settled down on it. She was posing then, quite fetching, her back arched dramatically and her ass was pointing right at the ceiling.

"Yes, Baby," she said, smiling, "I think it's time I grew up."

I chuckled and said, "I'm not sure this makes you an adult."

"No, Honey," she said, "that first time I was just a girl and I panicked. But I've been told, more than once, that it's wonderful, so I'm ready."

"Well, then," I said, smiling.

It's funny, really, but for all that Monica and I had a reasonably active sex life, and yes, we both enjoyed the doggie fashion position, I had never really looked at her asshole before.

If you've never taken to time to look at your wife's (or your husband's for that matter) butthole, you really should. There's an intimacy about it that is unmatched. You know what I mean? You see breasts and nipples whenever you take a woman to bed. You see her pussy, at least in passing if you're a Missionary Position kind of guy or more intimately if you enjoy giving oral sex. And you see her ass.

But the asshole is always hidden, deep in the

gluteal cleft

, the asscrack. To see it you have to work at it. You need to spread those cheeks and depending on the woman's size, that can be pretty easy or it can be quite a task.

Since then I've heard the anus described as a "rosebud," a "star," that "puckered poopshoot," and probably a dozen other things.

As I laid my palms on Monica's ass and parted those cheeks, I understood why one of those descriptions was "balloon knot."

Monica's not a terribly hairy girl, but she's not smooth either. When I spread her cheeks the first thing I noticed was a round, perfectly smooth circle with a very darkly stained, puckered balloon knot, with a very distinct growth of tissue highlighting the image. I wondered if it was some sort of oversized skin tag or maybe a hemorrhoid peeking out. It was kind of cute and I bent, blew on it making her shiver a little, and then touched it with my tongue making her hum softly.

Her pussy was shiny with her excitement, her natural lubricant changing as I watched, from the water-clear product of the mucus membranes lining her vagina to a thick milky color as other glands deeper in her belly started producing. I drug my finger up, slowly, starting at her clitoris making her breath catch, up her labia getting my finger wetter and slicker as I went, and then slipping my finger into her asshole, stopping at the first knuckle.

"Relax," I said.

She took a deep breath as I held still, holding that pressure, and told her to relax.

She shivered and a sudden little gush of that thick white nectar signaled a mini-orgasm.

The second time I did it, I used two fingers. By the time I got to her anus, my fingers looked like they were loaded with that skin lotion she used regularly.

"Relax," I said, my left hand very gently rubbing her back, almost caressing.

I could feel the tension.

"Relax," I said again, just my fingertips now, tickling low on her back.

She took a deep breath and relaxed.

As I felt the tension leave her body I pushed my index and middle finger in, smooth with her natural lubricant, but I felt distinct resistance from those powerful muscles.

She gasped.

"Oh, Jesus," she moaned.

"Relax," I said again, my fingers deep in her, feeling an amazing warmth inside her rectal vault.

I didn't move my hand, my fingers holding her stretched open, but began using my left hand to caress the roundness of her ass.

"I'll quit if you say to," I said in my best, calming-the-wild-animal voice.

She took a deep breath, very slowly inhaling and then exhaling just as slowly.

"No, Honey," she said, "I'm okay."

And I could tell she was. She was fully relaxed.

I took what we both wanted.

I moved closer to her, reaching down and guiding myself and slipping into her vaginally. I held still for several seconds, letting her wet excitement surround me, and coat me.

I pulled out, very slowly, feeling how wet and slick I was.

I guided myself again.

"I love you," I said, and in one smooth thrust, I entered her anally.

But it was much more than that.

She

accepted

me anally with a long hissed, "Yesssssssssssssssssss."

I looked down, fascinated at how different it was, entering her anally. The ring of sphincter muscle was stretched, the skin was taut, and as I watched I felt her squeeze those power muscles and for the first time, I really understood what the whole "anal thing" was all about.

She began talking. I'm not sure she even knew she was doing it. It was more a chant, or maybe the

preces

of the church liturgy.

"Oh, God, oh, Jesus, oh, Christ," and a sudden tension in her body and wetness on my balls as she came.

"Oh, God, oh, Jesus, oh, Christ," and another sudden clenching of her body.

"Oh, God, oh, Jesus, oh, Christ," and she came. She squirted. She had a true female ejaculation. I felt her spatter against my thighs.

"Oh, God, oh, Jesus, oh, Christ," and she shuddered, squeezing so hard it was painful.

She lifted herself onto her arms, changing her position to being on all fours now and in the process, changing the angles and pressures subtly.

"Oh, GOD, oh, JESUS, oh, FUCK," and she came again, hard, thick nectar hitting my thighs and running down in slow, hot, rivulets.

She moved again, sitting up now, catching my hands and guiding them to her breasts and pushing hard, forcing me to pull her back against me, changing angles and pressures again.

"Oh, GOD, OH SHIT, OH FUCKKKKKK," she yelled and when she came this time I thought she might have lost control of her bladder the way she sprayed the tops of my thighs.

She held that position, breathing in quick, sharp little intakes of breath, using her hands to press mine to her breasts.

I could feel her relax, her breathing returning to something like normal, and the tension leaving her body.

When I started thrusting, wanting my finish now, she squeezed my hands and said, "No. No, baby, hold still."

So I stopped.

She held that position for some timeless time, me deep in her anally, her back arched to accept me, and her hands covering mine.

Finally, she released my hands and said, "Take it out, Baby, please."

I pushed her shoulders, gently, forcing her forward, and then pulled out, slowly, watching as I emerged leaving a bit of a stain on both of us.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Oh Jesus, yes," she said, "I heard other girls talk about that 'deliciously full' feeling but now I understand."

"Was it better?" I asked.

She frowned, thinking, and then said, "Not

better

but

different

and very very good."

Then she grinned and said, "Your turn. On your belly, Baby."

I did as she had done, moving to the middle of the bed and carefully laying my hips on the doubled-up pillow. I cushioned my face in my folded hands on the pillow, gave my ass a wiggle, and said, "Okay."

Christ, when she moved so that her knees were between mine I damn near came in anticipation.

And then she started caressing, gently spreading my cheeks, and I felt air where I never felt air before.

I could not have stopped my hands from hooking into claws and scrabbling at the sheets if I wanted to, as I felt lips kissing and then her tongue touching.

I felt her fingertip, slick with what I assumed was her natural lubricant touch, and then penetrate just a bit and that soft humming sound was just as impossible to stop as my hooked and scrabbling fingers.

"Relax," she said, softly, as her finger slipped in a little deeper.

But I couldn't. Instead, I squeezed.

She giggled and I felt her moving forward, her finger still there, and then her lips were at my ear. "Relax," she said again, this time following the word with her tongue tracing the shell of my ear.

I arched my back and suddenly she was all of the way inside me and when her finger found my prostate I couldn't breathe.

When she moved her finger my breath caught.

"Okay?" she asked, her left hand light on my back as her right probed a little more.

"Yes," I managed.

"Feel good?" she asked.

She wiggled her finger and I damn near came.

"Yes," I managed, my fingers scrabbling at the sheets.

"Want me to finish you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

She giggled and began moving her finger in and out.

"Not yet," she said and I could hear the grin on her face.

With each thrust of her finger and each touch of my prostate, I gasped and shuddered.

"Tell me you like what I'm doing," she said.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Jesus, I like what you're doing," I said, arching my back, pushing my ass up.

"And what am I doing?" she asked.

I felt a rush as I realized what she wanted.

She probed and I almost came again.

But what the hell, we were here and alone and I was enjoying it.

"You, my Love, are finger fucking my asshole, playing with my prostate gland, and I am absolutely LOVING it," I managed between gasps.

"Do you want me to make you cum?" she asked.

"Please," I said.

And she did. She pressed my prostate, real pressure this time, not just little touches, a pressure that got me started and then a pressure that kept me going. Christ, it felt like I was pissing. And it went on.

And on.

She released the pressure, pressed again, and I came again. This time as my prostate and my balls contracted it was painful and I cried out.

I couldn't pull away. I didn't want to, but I had to.

She pushed and I came a third time, grunting, my belly cramping with the way I was straining.

She moved her finger enough to ease the pressure on my prostate but left it inside of me.

"Deliciously," she said, moving her finger enough to make me twitch.

"Full," she said, doing it again.

"Yes, Baby," I said, "I loved it."

When I felt her slowly pulling out I squeezed, wanting to hold her in.

She giggled, pulled free, and slapped my ass.

"Slut," she said, rolling out of bed quickly.

I lay there for a few moments, contemplating, and suddenly the urge to take a dump hit me.

We had been married long enough that we no longer had any body modesty about toilet stuff but still, when I walked in and found her sitting on the can, the smell told me she had the same urge.

I kissed her as she sat and said, "I don't suppose you're done?"

She laughed, then, stood, turned, and looked before she flushed.

"I was afraid after what we did I might have shit a turd that was two inches in diameter," she said, sinking into that crudity of language she sometimes did. Her Catholic school upbringing meant her grammar and language were much more proper than mine, and when she did that it was always kind of shocking.

I laughed and sat.

She bent and kissed me.

We necked like that, awkward and, yes, kinky, while I addressed nature's call, well, nature's

demand

after what she had done.

When we showered it was sensual. We did the normal face-hair-body routine but both of us seemed to think it was natural to pay special attention to our asses.

Clean and dry, I kissed her and headed to class, smiling.