Get in My Mouth

I woke to the delicate touch of my wife’s fingers gliding down my arm.

Her phone was on the stand. The gentle glow of the night-light sleep app warmed the room, and the white noise from its speaker brushed aside the silence. I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept, but it can’t have been long as I hadn’t yet started dreaming.

“Help me?” she whimpered. My heart jumped; what could be wrong? My pulse started to race as the adrenaline kicked in.

Helen’s deft fingers reached my hand, laced through my own, and she pulled them across to her side of the bed, straight between her legs. That’s when I discovered that the buzzing sound wasn’t the sleep app at all. She must have seen my eyes flash wide. “Please help me. I’m so fucking horny!”

“What the hell…” I mumbled. I’d known Helen for years, and we’d been married for just over six months. We were madly, deeply in love. She was a virgin when we hooked up, refused sex before marriage, and her sexual appetite – such as it was – could best be described as vanilla.

Which made her next words all the more extraordinary. She stared me straight in the eyes, her hunger almost overbearing. “Get in my mouth!” she demanded.

Even then, I suspected some kind of trap. The very idea of her performing oral sex on me, especially other than with considerable reluctance at Christmas or on my birthday, was absurd. “Helen, are you okay?”

“Do you want a conversation, or do you want me to suck you off? Get your fucking dick into my slutty mouth before I cum!”

Well. Nobody likes to disappoint a lady.

///

Helen spun into my world through mutual friend Jennifer. They’d gone through secondary school together and were totally inseparable, until they were forced apart by going to different universities.

I met Jen at our halls of residence – we had rooms on the same landing. She was a wild party girl and no mistake; sharing a paper-thin wall with her meant I was intimately familiar with her dating life. I guess I consider myself lucky that we became friends first before I eventually succumbed to her voracious sexual appetite one drunken weekend. I don’t think we left the bed for 2 days other than to grab some water and collect the pizza. With Jen, nothing was off limits. But that girl burned me out; I just could not keep up, and the jealousy of watching her go off with other guys – and girls – between our marathon sessions became unendurable.

She didn’t see it as cheating, of course. “It’s just sex,” she said. “It doesn’t change what you and I have.” Realising I’d been falling in love with her, I had to break it off, while we were still friends. I didn’t think she loved me, not the way I did her, and I knew I’d never be enough for her, and eventually it would have destroyed me.

It was at Jen’s engagement party that I met Helen. At first glance, she was everything Jen was not – blonde rather than brunette, curvy rather than boyish, short rather than lanky. She was without question the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I knew I was in deep trouble from the moment Helen smiled back at me with those twinkling little blue eyes.

We dated for a few months; that’s all Demetevler escort it took for me to know she was the one. We were so perfectly matched, in almost every respect. Except one. Helen was Jen’s opposite in another regard too – where lust ruled Jen’s life, Helen was almost indifferent. I fooled myself that it didn’t matter to me.

But six months into our marriage, our irregular and uninspiring sex life was really getting to me. I didn’t regret ending things with Jen, not exactly – but surely there had to be some kind of middle ground between the slut and the saint?

I ended up confessing to Jen. I needed somebody to talk to, and I didn’t know anyone else with whom I could have such a frank conversation with no judgement.

“Well,” she said. “If it was anyone but Helen, I’d happily sort those blue balls for you. You know I’m always ready to help a friend out.”

Having an affair wasn’t really what I had in mind. I love Helen and would never do anything to hurt her. I just wanted some advice, any ideas on how I might help Helen loosen up a bit – talking just led to arguments about me making demands on her. I guess I’m just not that good with words.

“Leave it with me,” Jen said, winking. “I have an idea.”

///

A couple of weeks later, when Helen came back from Jen’s Hen Night, she was clutching a paper bag of goodies.

“Aren’t you going to show me what you got?”

She scrunched the bag up and shoved it to the back of her bedside drawer, then slammed it shut. Her face was flushed from embarrassment. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She hadn’t wanted to go to the male strip club, but the loyalty to her friend overrode her discomfort at the venue. I knew Helen wouldn’t have done anything for me to be concerned about. Yet she was clearly distressed, and I wanted to comfort her. I reached out.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, shrugging me off.

“Sorry, I…” I began, but didn’t know how to finish.

She turned to face me. “Nothing happened. Nobody did anything to me, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just tired. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

But we didn’t talk about it the next day. We didn’t speak of it again until the night, weeks later, when our relationship changed completely.

///

I knelt beside her head, looking down across her voluptuous body, her bountiful breasts rocking on her chest from the heavy breathing. My hand ran around her pussy lips, shaved smooth (which was most unlike her, she was usually one to just let nature take its course) and slick with her juices, stretched around the considerable girth of the vibrator buried inside her.

I wasn’t a fan of toys, not for women in a relationship anyway. I got precious little sex with Helen as it was, and she knew my dick, hands and tongue were at her disposal whenever she wanted. Why have a fake cock when you could have a real one? My hand was all I needed if I was horny and alone, so I didn’t really get why that wasn’t true for her. And I guess there was a tinge of jealousy – they say size isn’t important, but why then were dildos always so much bigger than the average man? I couldn’t measure up Dikimevi escort to them… what if she got used to it, and I wasn’t enough for her anymore?

Nevertheless, this one seemed to be working some kind of magic on my wife. She tilted her head towards me, sucked the tip of my rock-hard dick into her mouth and slid her lips over me. She suckled at me as if her life depended on it; a feeling so intense that I collapsed onto my arms over her, legs at one shoulder and hands at her other, impaling her head with my cock.

I couldn’t help myself; I started thrusting into her mouth, lust flaring at the sound of her moans. This couldn’t be happening; she’d always point blank refused to suck me off before. And yet here we were.

I could no longer see her face, but I could see the effect this uncharacteristic coupling was having on her body. With one hand she held the vibrator inside her so that her quivering legs and clenching cunt didn’t shake it free, while the other hand grabbed her heavy breast and pinched and twisted at her nipple. And the noises coming from her throat were simply exquisite. I could feel my balls starting to respond.

Presently I felt her press against my abdomen with her hand, felt her head wriggle. I realised I’d been practically lying across her face. I pushed myself up, let her slide her spluttering mouth back off my cock. “Couldn’t… breathe…” she gasped.

Guilt flashed through me. For fuck’s sake don’t ruin this, I thought, or she’ll never let you do anything like it again. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be,” she said, grabbing my arse and pulling me back into her mouth, forcing my cock down her throat until I was balls deep between her lips once more. It was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced – and that’s saying a lot, given what Jen and I had got up to. Maybe it was because I was doing this with the previously straight-laced Helen. The sight of her face smeared with saliva and precum while she mauled at her tits and fucked herself with the vibrator just tipped me over the edge.

“Babe, I’m gonna cum…” I moaned, eyes locked onto the sex toy buried in her cunt, as her legs shook and her abs crunched. I could hear her moaning out her orgasm from around my cock as she lost control completely, squirting her pleasure over the clit stimulator, the vibrations merrily splashing it all across the bedroom.

Watching her squirt, losing any last vestiges of control and composure and succumbing to her pleasure, proved too much for me to resist. My balls gave me a fraction of a second’s warning, just long enough for me to withdraw from her mouth – God knows she’d never forgive me if I came inside her there – but not enough for me to avoid glazing her face with the first spurt. Desperate, I redirected the flow across her heaving chest, laying rope after thick rope across her glorious tits. I expected her to be furious, but she was too far gone.

“Fuck yeah, paint my tits with your cum! I’m your dirty slut, brand me with your jizz!”

I didn’t think she even knew those words. But my cock and balls were happy to comply, especially while I watched her reach up and smear my offering Dikmen escort over her cleavage. Amazed, I watched as she tentatively raised her sticky hand to her mouth and gave it a delicate lick. She raised an eyebrow, then leant forwards and sucked the slimy tip of my still-leaking cock back onto her mouth, taking the dregs onto her tongue and cleaning me up, all the time with the biggest smile on her lips and in her eyes.

///

There wouldn’t be any sleep after that. I left her to shower, wrapped myself in my dressing gown and went to the kitchen to pour us a couple of glasses of red, which I brought back to the fireplace in the lounge.

That’s when we talked. Really talked, properly, for the first time, about our desires. A conversation we probably should have had a long time before. Certainly before we married.

At first, Helen was offended by the sex toys Jen put into the hen do swag bags – and knew that I wasn’t much of a fan of them, either. But Jen could be very persuasive; she knew how I felt about our sex life, and so she sowed the seeds of change with Helen. Just try it, she urged my wife. Use it; find out what your needs are, then express them to him. I’m sure he’ll do anything you ask for.

Jen was rarely wrong when it came to matters of sex.

“So this week, while you’ve been at work, I’ve been using it, fantasising about you,” she admitted. “In the end, I got so horny I couldn’t think straight, and the toy by itself just wasn’t enough. I had to have you.” She smiled, sipping at her wine.

I still didn’t quite know what to say. “I can’t believe we just did that. I love you so much. What can I do for you?”

“Maybe shave down there, if you want to get more head?” she joked. Then the tone turned more serious. “Just be honest with me, and let me explore this in my own way and at my own speed, okay? I want to please you. No; that’s not quite it. I want us to please each other.”

I couldn’t stop my eyes drifting over the silk nightdress she’d put on – probably another surprise from the hen do swag bag, given how slinky and skimpy it was. Her innocent, butter-wouldn’t-melt smile was ruined by the naughty twinkle in her eye. “God, I could just eat you up,” I said.

She leant back against the sofa, drew the nightie up so the hem rose from her thighs to her tummy. “I thought you’d never ask,” she replied, spreading her legs and tucking her ankles over my shoulders as I slid to the floor and pressed my mouth between her thighs.

“If only Jen could see us now…” she muttered as I worked my tongue over her clit.

“Threesome?” I joked, expecting a slap in response.

But instead she gave a cheeky little shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time either of us have slept with her…”

I filed that little factoid away for later – thinking of Helen and Jen wrapped in sapphic teenage lust would keep me occupied the next time I was alone. Although something told me Helen would keep me satisfied enough, henceforth – as long as I reciprocated.

I slid two fingers inside her, beckoning at her G-spot while I sucked and licked at her clit, watching the waves of pleasure cross her face. “I love you, so much” I muttered, as I kissed over her thighs.

“I fucking love you too,” she purred. “Now make me scream so loud the neighbours complain!”

Challenge accepted, I thought, and renewed my efforts.

Jen would have been proud. Of both of us.

THE END

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