I remember it like it was yesterday. That's largely because I took notes the morning after. Didn't want to forget any of the important details. Not when it's, hands down, the single, solitary, BEST blowjob I've ever been gifted with.
Not good. Not really good. Not above and beyond the call of head. Some sexual moments, when they happen, are so sublime you think "I need to write that up for Literotica.com. I must document this. A record must be made." This was one of those moments.
I wasn't sure I really believed in the kind of head that grabs you, makes you hyperventilate till you're ready to pass out, and nigh paralyzes you. I believe in faeries. I've met one. His name is Brent and he's got rainbow wings tattooed on his back. I even met a Hobbit in Seattle. Short bottom-dyke who absorbed more flogging at an S&M party we attended than one might have ever expected from someone of her size. But a head-spinning kind of uber-blowjob? An honest-to-God "Dear Penthouse", floating on air kinda moment? That's a unicorn of a different color.
Or it was until Saturday night, October 11, 2003, 'round 9:00pm. That was the night I got the best head of my life. From my wife, M.
Lemme 'splain.
We'd gotten back from dinner at Mr. Sushi on Lakeshore. A little sake', some maguro, a little of the fresh aji, all with an industrial strength dose of WASABI! Don't ask me why, but that green acid burn that claws through my sinuses, mapping them out for me in great detail, that cloud of aromatics that feels like some emerald dragon clawing and thrashing its way from the base of my skull forward over the scalp...but that's a hell of an aphrodesiac.
We were celebrating the fact that it had been 8 years since we met at that tattoo convention in Seattle. I even did a verbal aikido on the woman who, all smiles, introduced herself with "I don't approve of tattoos and don't want my kids to grow up getting any. What do you think of that?"
Gah!
Long story short, I went on the charm offensive, confused her, and really seemed to fry a few of her wires when I told her that yes, we were married, 5 years. AND tattooed. Nope, even that annoying git didn't bring the evening down. Kenny served us up the usual magic and M & I came home with very happy bellies. I can remember it in detail...
Sitting on the couch, I crumble a little of the Covelo green from up around Mendocino County and pack it into the little souvenier pipe we picked up in S.F. Chinatown, a wonderfully decadent aesthetic. Meanwhile, M lights a little of the Nag Champa incense and sticks it into the bowl of sand.
We each have a couple of bowls and start to make out on the couch. It feels so very high school, but I love making out on the couch. Maybe because I did so little of it back in high school, I feel I'm making up for lost time.
M smiles as I leaned in to kiss her, her soft mouth open to meet mine. She often holds the first one in that beautiful, pillow-like moment between pulling away and pressing home, neither one nor the other. I felt my mouth wanting to collapse into hers.
Her tongue gently probes along my lips and mine plays gently across hers. I love kissing her. From time to time she lets me kiss other women, a fact I appreciate to NO end. And Burning Man has made that somewhat convenient. But there is no one at all I like kissing as much as M. It's partially the way she frames my lower lip with both of hers, partially the full softness of her lips, but largely it's because she's my wife and that by definition is DAMN sexy!
After a while we agree it's bedtime. After freshening up and brushing our teeth, we move into the bedroom where I get to watch her undress. Every night I lie on the bed and watch her pull her shirt up over her head. I lean in and kiss her just-more-than-a-handful breasts, once each, and watch her finish undressing.
M's feeling a little chilly and I suggest she try on a robe. Out of the closet comes this red butt-length kimono-style robe with a yellow dragon stitched on the back. I don't know why, but this is suddenly the SEXIEST thing she could have imagined putting on. I can't even remember where it came from originally, this is its first appearance. And it's got me REALLY hard as she crawls back into bed.
M kisses me some more as our hands begin to rove up and down each other's bodies, the feel of the cotton pleasant as I run my hands up her sides, over her breasts. I roll over and load another pipe, which I pass to her. Smoking in bed is its own kind of sexy. I knew a girl in high school who found alcohol on a guy's breath sexy. I'm big on the taste of ganja on my lover's kiss.
My left hand starts to knead one of her butt cheeks as my tongue caresses her breast, being ever so gentle with the nipple. She's quite sensitive there and too much, too fast can leave her overstimulated, so taking it slowly, being with the Zen of the moment, that is the path to joy. Firm but gentle strokes of the hand, wide, slow licks with the tongue. Gentle, soft techniques are the order of the day. And I know this. But events are such that I am about to lose all sense of focus, control, and calm.
"Baby, I'd love to feel your mouth on my cock." I love being married and I find my wife extremely beautiful and incredibly sexy. I find her sexy BECAUSE she's my wife. I find her sexy because so much of the message we get culturally is "You're not supposed to find your wife sexy, that's what affairs are for" and I like going against the grain. I find her sexy because the cover of frickin' Newsweek reads "No Sex Please, We're Married" and I ain't goin' out like that! There's just something about seeing your cock disappear into your wife's mouth that, well, it's indescribable and wonderful and incredibly fucking hot.
With a smile, M kisses me on the lips, scoots down, and begins gently stroking my cock with her hand. "Wait," I say. "Let me get my glasses so I can watch you". She smiles and rolls her eyes at me like she does when she's amused with me, and kisses the uncut head.
I put my glasses on and prop up my pillow a little as I see her tongue circling around the tip of my cock. Her hair is cropped close on the sides, a little longer on top with gorgeous bangs hanging down just over her left eye. Its natual dark blonde is henna-red tonight, a coloring that really plays well off her creamy pale skin. Her slender body drapes across my thighs, the red robe hanging open, almost hiding her breasts but letting the nipples peek out.
I lean back on my elbows and watch as M's mouth and tongue lick wet circles around the uncut head, one free hand playing with my shaved balls. We've discovered that keeping me bald 'round the wobblies is a perk as M's got an acute sense of smell. She loves the way I smell and keeping the cock and balls denuded keeps my...ahem..."natural musk" from getting too aggressive. Smooth, the whole unit smells "fresh, clean, and masculine." Ooh, baby. In addition, M not being a fan of a mouthfull of fur, keeping my balls shaved gets them attention from her tongue & mouth and that ain't nothin' but a good thing!