With the gentle buzzing of my phone, it suddenly hit me like a bucket of ice water just how incredibly bizarre, risky- CRAZY it was for me to have set things up this way. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves; butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach, and I didn't quite know what to do with my hands. I forced myself to remember why I had set up the evening- my husband's birthday- the way I had. I did it for the right reasons, based upon what I know of him- which is pretty much everything. Everything would be alright. I tried not to think about what would happen if my husband rejected the intricately assembled plans I had drawn up a month ago and executed without a hitch. I tried not to think about how on earth I would segue into what I ultimately had planned. I tried not to think about the young man hiding in the basement study, waiting for me to call him up...
This is a story about how I managed to give my husband a once in a lifetime present for his birthday. But before I tell you about what happened, I think you probably need to know a few things about He and I, so you have a little context to work with, as you hopefully read through and enjoy this story. This is of course a very personal story, and erotic in nature. Please feel free to act out however you feel if you find the narrative agreeable to your erotic sensibilities.
My husband and I have been married just over a year, and prior to that we dated for about a year. Both of us were ready to settle down when we met, and by and large the past two years have been the happiest of my life. And, being reasonably happy, as well as sensitive and caring and loving towards each other, it follows that we enjoy a very healthy sex life (actually, it is WAY better than I thought it could be.
Men and women are very different- as we were made so. Thus, I have fallen into the role of feminine submission (in a sexual way only), while he is my masculine counterpart, who pursues me, protects me, and- occasionally, ravages me. ;-)
I would say that we are not to different that most people when it comes to our sex life, though like most, we have our own little quirks, kinks, and proclivities (my husband more so that me.) In particular, there is a particular sex act that we perform on a regular basis- you could say that my husband has a fetish- a very strong drive to finish the act of lovemaking with me by crawling up my body, sitting on my chest, thrusting his throbbing, quaking penis directly above the center of my face, as I lay powerless beneath his huge, muscular body... Well, you get the picture. My husband has a facial fetish- he likes to mark me with his seed- I am his. And by and large I enjoy it- it's one of the purest ways to show him love I can muster.
It's interesting, thinking on it now, how very insecure and secretive he is about this little quirk of his sexuality. I still remember the way in which I learned about his fetish- we had several long (and unbearably exciting!) conversations about sex before we were wed. I still remember watching him with fascination, curiosity, and a small bit of excitement as he revealed to me- his voice soft and his heart full of apprehension- that he had a sexual fetish he felt very self-conscious about. I told him that I would try to understand and that he need not worry- we were to be wed soon- by that point, there was nothing that would change how deeply I loved and respected him... "so trust me with your secret- there's nothing to fear," I said with warmth and compassion in my heart.
In a roundabout way, he carefully gave a backstory to his sexual history, and how for reasons unknown to him, he had always gravitated to a single sex act- ejaculating onto the face of his partner. "I have a facial fetish," he confessed. I had of course known what he was talking about, but I had never had someone do that to me, nor had I ever thought to ask for it. He continued on, explaining to me how primal this desire was, and he shared that he was afraid that if I was not receptive to him in this way, he would feel hurt. I snuggled up to him in that moment, and pulled him on top of me in the bed where we lay that night, and with my large blue eyes gazing up into his, I smirked and whispered, "baby, once we are married, you can do whatever you'd like to me. I am yours, and you are mine." He smiled so big, and thanked me, and kissed me- and though I didn't say anything, I felt his penis press against my leg, suddenly as hard as it could possibly be. I felt a little twinge in between my legs, and I smiled inside at the thought that very soon, I would be split open by his hot, hard manhood.
But it was not until after we were married sometime that he divulged the final aspect of his infatuation with seeing his seed splurting in great gooey gobs onto my waiting face. Earlier that day, he had done something very sweet for me- something simple, but so loving, and I had promised him that when night fell I would reward him in the way men most like to be rewarded. I winked as I said this, and shot my slender hand out to give his penis a little squeeze.
That night we were especially open to exploring each other sexually, and after a good long time of pleasuring me, I took over and stroked him with my hands- bringing him at least 4 times to the precipice of orgasm, then backing off before he lost control. I had learned that prolonging his excitement led to his internal sexual organs to manufacture more and more semen, which led to more powerful orgasms, but more importantly, a higher volume in ejaculate. But tonight was special- there was just something in the air. When I had tortured him enough, I laid back upon the bed, and asked him to come straddle my shoulders, so I "could take a closer look at him." He gladly obliged, and swinging one knee over my supine body, he sat down lightly upon my chest, looked down at me and grinned. My upper arms were pinned at my sides, hemmed in my his muscular thighs. I liked how regardless of how many times we had done this, I always felt a slight thrill of powerlessness beneath his powerful body. I reached up with my hands and pushed his lower back forward, prompting him to spread his legs a little wider, as well as scoot a little farther forward. I looked up into his eyes- oh, he was so ready to explode! But before he did, I wanted to tease his mind just a little more... so I asked an unusual question- the first thing that came to my mind, really- certainly a kinky question, but not so strange considering that he had swung his swollen penis right into my personal space- not to mention the fact that once again it would be his spasming testicles dumping their greyish gelatinous DNA-custard into the thundering reservoir at the base of his wonderfully thick, beautifully shaped cock, before being ejaculated violently out into the space beyond the enormous head of his dick, to come careening down upon my delicate little upturned nose, mysmall, red mouth, and pool in huge gooey gobs upon my large feline eyes. So before he crossed that threshold, I stopped him in his tracks with this question:
"Baby," I purred, "Do you ever wonder what it's like to be on the receiving end of a facial?"