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Fireworks are made for, inside, right?
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Fireworks are made for, inside, right? As she got out of the shower yesterday evening she stood in front of me in the entry. She smiled and looked wonderful. Her body looked full, feminine and sexy. Her curves, I missed them. Her breasts began to harden with goose bumps from the ceiling fan above traveling at lightning speed to cool the warm room. I want you to put lotion on me,” she said, turning back to get it.“ "Why?” I asked, “Is Phil coming over?” My pun was a joke, well sort of, as we both knew there was a lot of seriousness in that statement. “No, I wish,” she said sincerely, lying fully on the bed after handing me the lotion bottle. We had plans for dinner then to make an appearance at the local fireworks show downtown, with the rest of the world it seems, braving the thousands for that spectacle that is shorter than her most of her sexual experiences with Phil. I began rubbing her. I enjoyed that. Her body was so soft to my touch. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the pampering. Her legs hung open, not sure if that was purposely or not. Thus doing so opened her pussy which I’ve been foreign to. As my hands worked on her my eyes concentrated on her furry mound which acquired quite the growth over the last few weeks. A nice change, I think. I could see her clit as it tried poking out from her outer lips. I could also feel something else poking out. Me. “I suppose you could go down on me,” she said in a soft and sensual voice, her eyes still closed. “You’ve done nothing but stare at it the whole time.” Well I guess that answers my question. It was purposely. I finished lotioning her legs and crawled between them on my stomach. Her hands gently placed a top my head, her fingers roamed through my hair. She smelt fantastic and womanly. Her horny scent was certainly there and prevalent as I inched closer, her hands guiding me in. “Put your face right in there,” she said lightly, lifting her hips, contacting my mouth. The hardness of her clit was evident as I licked it. This was certainly different from my normal worship of merely looking at it or cleaning her after she’s been fucked by him. I was serving my wife with the intention of making her cum. Sure, probably not the first choice, but a nice second place to relieve that sexual tension from her long, long, hiatus from Phil. I could have been down there for hours. Literally. I love it. I’m not complaining by any means. I am thankful to have been asked to please her. But, it was a matter of minutes. A matter of minutes before she got what she wanted. She smashed my face into her and held it there as she rode it to an orgasm. It reminded me when Phil comes inside her in the missionary position, the way she grabs his ass pulling him in. I could feel her wetness all around my mouth and she bucked and shuttered, eventually finishing. I kept my face down there, inches from her entry, basking in the scent of her womanhood. “Oh that was good,” she said faintly. Yes it was. As things settled back in she graced me with five minutes as I yanked myself in front of her. It didn’t take that long. We finished getting ready for the evening. She chose a nice skirt, about three inches above her knee, and a<b> cleavage </font></b>shirt supported by a push-up bra. Our waiter last night certainly got an eye full.  Shared wife -evergreenstatewife |
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