My Wife finds Her Kink
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People talk about the seven year itch but I never felt the urge to be with anyone other than my wife, Jenny. That doesn’t change the fact that, after seven years, our sex life had gotten a little stale. So, I determined to find a way to spice it up. Since I love my wife I also wanted to make sure it was something that would make her happy too.
I started by setting a romantic mood. I bought a few unscented pillar candles and set them up around the room. We did that for a few months and she liked them very much, but I can’t say it added a ton of excitement.
Next, I tried buying her some nice lingerie. I gifted her sexy stockings, lacy teddies, and crotchless panties. I think they helped her to feel prettier, and it sure turned me on, but somehow that didn’t translate into a lasting thrill.
In another attempt to add spice to our sex-life we had sex in every room of the house and she was a great sport, even participating, if somewhat reluctantly, when we did it in the garage or the backyard.
Nevertheless, lying on top of her in the same position as always continued to be old.
One night in bed, before sex, I asked her what she would like. I hoped merely for her to say Doggy Style, or Woman on Top. Instead, she said she would like me to kiss her all over. I was confused because I already did that. After some back and forth I was able to drag out of her that she, “maybe,” “sorta,” would like it if I stroked and kissed her armpits too. I guess I never thought to do that nor considered that she would like it.
That evening during foreplay I kissed her body all over. I began at her neck, following a trail down and back up again. I really enjoyed kissing her underboob, well, because boobs turn me on. As I neared her bush I inhaled deeply but stopped at the edge to tease her. I learned a long time ago that she only rarely liked cunnilingus, and then only for brief amounts of time, and only if she were really heated up.
I traveled as far as the top of her foot then reversed direction, I delved into her tender inner thigh, across her sexy, soft belly, then up to her full breasts again. I spent lots of time on her cleavage, which I do because it’s a zone for her. I desperately wanted to suckle her nipples but she generally finds that to be too ticklish. Lastly, I included her pits. It wasn’t so bad – really. There was the slightest hint of odor. It didn’t remind me of the scent of her pussy, it was different, but the fact that it had a scent at all gave me similar feelings. As my lips were in there I felt a slight fuzziness but zero stubble, which also wasn’t bad. I was very pleased to see that her level of passion was noticeably higher than normal. It definitely paid off to give her what she wanted.
Kissing and even licking her pits became a thing that we did. She accommodated me by not wearing deodorant on days we were going to have sex because I didn’t want to ingest the chemicals. I didn’t mind the natural pit smell, even when it was more pungent. It made me feel emotionally connected to inhale her womanly perfume and make it part of me. I don’t know why, but I suspect she also got off on me smelling her odor, especially when it was stronger. She decided to let her pit hair grow making them even more like pussy.
One day as we lounged by the pool the subject of body odor came up. I learned that she hated the smell of penises so from that day on I worked diligently to keep super clean down there. I shaved too which seemed slightly emasculating as it made my dick look boyish, but it was easier to keep clean for her. I also learned that she worried about her pussy smell. She thought it was disgusting. She couldn’t imagine that I truly liked the look and feel and odor. She questioned whether or not I was repulsed by her armpit smell too. I did my best to convey that I liked the scents that come from women. She didn’t say anything, but from that day on I noticed that her hygiene was not as fastidious as before, making me wonder if on some level she wanted me to experience her malodorous fragrances. At the same time she demanded complete odorlessness from me. At first I took it as an affront but upon reflection figured she was probably conflicted but also conceding that we were starting from different places.
As she became less anxious about her smells she relaxed and started to enjoy me exploring more intimate areas of her body. I couldn’t put my finger on it but it wasn’t just that she was less anxious. She possessed some ill-defined ambivalence toward the indelicate emanations of the human body wanting me to immerse myself in them while also wanting me to reject them. It took about a year but in time she eventually liked to have her pussy kissed and licked – even on its funky days. Her evolving perception of bestial odors freed her almost completely.
I always liked the primordial act of licking a woman’s slit so this was all a good turn of events for me. My joyously servicing her pie became, not only more frequent, but a regular part of our lovemaking.
Typically, she would lay ulus escort on her back and after touching her lovingly, I would next kiss her all over and spend some time lavishing attention on her pits, then wander down to her bush, then labia, then the inner folds, then lastly, her clit. In time, she let loose and started rotating her hips to get the right spot under my tongue. This developed into humping my face, and a few glorious times she put her hands on the back of my head while pressing her cunt up to my lips.
As I said, it stopped being so pristine down there, which was an improvement eighty percent of the time. The rest of the time, well, I love her deeply.
One lone time she spoke while her thighs squeezed either side of my head. I’m not sure, but I think I heard her mumble something about “smelly…place”. The memory of what I thought I heard stuck with me and fed my lust with the hope that my shy wife might someday talk dirty.
As years went by, licking her cunt and sucking on her clit were an everytime routine. If having orgasms were a skill then she had learned enough to get a degree. She creamed my face each time I orally gratified her and as time went by moved on to edging herself using my tongue like a sex toy.
One unassuming night in bed we had just opened our books and phones to read. Casually, without even turning to face me, she asked, “What’s facesitting?”
I almost dropped my phone, but feigning indifference, I didn’t look up either, just as casually, I answered, “It’s where a woman crouches over her man and lowers her vagina onto his lips.” I noticed that she kept reading her magazine for several minutes but no pages were turning. I waited anxiously to see what her response would be. She never gave any indication that it effected her, but just her asking the question made me too jittery to keep reading.
Surrepticiously, I snuck my hand over and gently let it touch her leg. In time I brushed against it more firmly, until at long last it seemed I could make a more obvious move. Her breathing was quicker than usual when I kissed her body. When I nibbled on the little bit of pussy lip peeking out between damp curly hairs she instantly arched her back driving the pleasantly stinky gash hard against my mouth. I pulled on her butt to see if she would roll over on top of me. She didn’t make any moves that could be interpreted as a roll but somehow ended up on top anyway.
This was my first facesitting experience and it was everything I’d hoped it would be. No pussy had ever been so thoroughly attached to my mouth before. My tongue had never gone deeper. A bush had never engulfed my nose so completely. She mashed her sex all over the lower part of my face. She had never really ground it on me before and I was in heaven. Ten minutes later I pulled away long enough to tell her she could turn around for a different angle if she wanted to. She didn’t move right away, but I gave her a little nudge prompting her to actually try the new position.
Facing the other way she rubbed faster, sliding her slit all the way from one end to the other. A first occurred for her too – she moaned during sex. I reached for my hard dick, jerked it, and with climactic shudders we finished together. Facesitting was added to the list in my mind of things we did, even if only sometimes.
One day at dinner I called her my “Facesitting Queen”. She giggled and the name stuck, well the queen part anyway. It was my new nickname for her. She loved it and lived up to it. I brought her wine every night. Gave her stress relieving massages. Everything a queen could want. And on special nights I adored her body and pussy and she relished the adulation.
My lovely wife now initiated sex several times a week. We did what she wanted and we both got off. The facesitting experience was a turning point for her. She was a changed woman. She was now a queen in the bedroom and I was her willing sexual page.
I enjoyed our new game and roles greatly. We had a lot more sex. It certainly was a lot more passionate. It was much more exciting too. Though I think the game ended up being better for her. I loved the passionate sex goddess and my royal wife got just what she wanted – much of the same thing all the time. I could never eat too much pussy but I didn’t want that to the exclusion of other things.
I still craved variety. I wanted to try anal, role play, bondage, or even golden showers… I confessed my needs and she was very understanding. Touching my face lovingly with the palm of her hand she compassionately told me that we would do new things. For my sake.
The very next day I joined her in the bedroom to discover that she was wearing my favorite lingerie – the red hose set with white frilly trim. I ran my fingers lightly up her legs and over all the erogenous places that turn her on. I rained soft kisses up her legs and over all the sexy crevices that turn me on. I kissed and nibbled her pits for a long time until, resting her hands on my head, she urged me down to her honey yenimahalle escort pot. The silky red hose obstructed my access but nevertheless, I kissed the whole area anyway.
Lifting her knees to her chest she slowly peeled the pantyhose off gradually revealing the hairy cunt I love, only to bring her crossed legs back down on the bed to my right. I looked at her, confused by her coyness, but only became more confused when she handed me the crumpled red ball and with a smile said, “Put ’em on. So you can have new things.” I furrowed my brows further, not getting how this would give me new things. She added, “For your sake. Go on. You said you wanted something new.”
I raised one eyebrow both to question if she really wanted this and also to show that I questioned if I wanted this. She just grinned. Giving in, I pulled the stretchy pantyhose up my legs encasing my throbbing member, fastened the matching choker on my neck, then leaned down for a feast. My sexy girl really got into it that night. She was thrashing around and clawing at the sheets. I loved the passion more than everything else. I licked and slurped up her juices. I worked my way toward the top. I always thought that her clit was shaped like a miniscule penis and there I found it at the apex of her folds. Her chest flushed red with the heat of excitement then she finished with a quaking orgasm more powerful than I had seen her have before.
In about three years our sex life had progressed from once a week missionary to moan inducing kinkiness. She slyly coerced me into wearing a few more of her pieces of lingerie. Wearing her sexy things was peculiar but I loved to see her happy and with all the pussy eating I was not complaining.
One day I was pleasantly surprised to come home only to find her cooking dinner (she never cooks) in a slutty French maid outfit. I sat at the table admiring the view of her shapely waist, sporting a rock hard boner.
After a few minutes she sensuously stripped off the costume only to announce that she had had a hard day at work. Buck naked except for black pumps, the hottest woman in the world handed me the tiny uniform saying “Would you be a dear and finish dinner?”
I was too turned on to refuse her. And this had always led to great sex so I donned the little skirted thing, made dinner, had a great candle-light meal with the love of my life, then with her encouragement ducked under the table for dessert.
She scooted her naked ass to the edge of the chair and I dove in. I kissed her thighs, nudged either side of her labia with my nose, and caressed her privates with super light licks. Responding to her squirming I followed where I thought she wanted my lapping to go. As her ardor grew my licks got bolder and harder. I was licking with the flat of my tongue from bottom to top, the juices were flowing, my face was wet all over, then it happened…I reached for a little drip and I reached too far. When I touched her brown puckered asshole her high heels clattered to the floor and I froze for the smallest moment in shock and fear. I pulled my tongue back into my mouth in retreat, moving Northward to safety only to discover I was blocked. Her hands were on top of my head holding me firmly in place. It didn’t occur to me at first that she wanted me to stay back there until I heard it – a long loud moan that continued for what seemed to be at least a minute.
There was no doubt it pushed her buttons, so I did it again. I pushed my tongue, intentionally, between her cheeks and poked that little rosebud. She gave a little sigh. So I poked again only to be rewarded with another little moan. Pushing her legs higher and pulling her petite ass forward I went at it with gusto.
Unlike pussy, it was rubbery, less labile, earthy and musty, but I found no hint of feces either in taste or smell. Spreading her cheeks farther apart with my thumbs I reached in with both tongue and lips to stimulate her never-before-touched bunghole. She kept her hands on my head the whole time then pulled my lips back to her grotto for the big shuddering finale.
When she was done she was breathing hard, and sparkling with a sheen of perspiration. I watched her sexy legs stumble away as I crawled out from under the table. My knees hurt, my neck was stiff, and I hadn’t cum.
Finding her in the living room I tried to kiss her to continue our escapade but she pushed my face away telling me, “You smell dirty. Go wash up and come back to me.” When I returned I must have looked ridiculous wearing the ultra-feminine poofy apron with my cock jutting out. She smirked a little then pulling me across the room she spoke again, “Poor Baby, let me help you with that.” Laying back on the couch she placed her legs up over my shoulders and inserted my cock into her pussy. We had been focusing on the cunnilingus so frequently that it had been about a month since we had fucked. Her cunt felt so good grasping my engorged dick that I came in just a few strokes. I looked into her eyes as I deposited a larger than normal eryaman escort load of cum. She gazed back and we connected on a deeply emotional level.
I felt so good and Jenny’s face was so radiant in her post-sex glow that I could have stayed lost in her eyes all evening with my shrunken dick still inside. However, I saw her expression flip in an instant and a lustful appetite seized her mood again. Can there be any better look on a woman’s face than the carnal expressions of desire? Her renewed lust re-inflamed mine and given a few minutes I would have been able to gain another erection to fuck again. But she had other ideas.
She ran her fingers lightly across the sides of my face in a tender gesture then placed them on top of my head, gently pushing me down with a practiced move. Consumed by longing I knelt before her ready to provide my queen with oral bliss for the second time in one day when I remembered that her quim was bound to be a messy swamp.
She kept both dainty feet up on my shoulders exposing and opening her cunny to my view. I had a feeling of dread as I watched the first drop of thick white cum escaping its proper place and knew what she wanted me to do.
I have loved eating pussy for as long as I have dated and her newfound desire to be taken care of has been a blessing. I also loved her newly discovered assertiveness and renewed passion but this was beyond passion. I have longed to see her explore her sexuality for years but this pushed those boundaries. Didn’t it?
Then she did something that made me unable to refuse her; she uttered these words, “Taste my nasty hole, Baby.” The depravity of those words melted my resistance. More than anything I wanted her to be uninhibited enough to talk dirty. In the years of silent sex I had expected the first dirty words to escape her lips to be something more like, “I love your big dick.” or the simple cliche, “Fuck me.” But these words were so filthy, so degrading and over the top, that I had to comply.
I stared at the tiny growing glob. Steeling myself I inched closer. Getting near I stuck out my tongue but couldn’t cross the final distance. Willing myself to touch the spoo-matted, abused, and gaping hole I prepared myself mentally to take the plunge. She saved me from making the decision, pulling me down with heels digging into the back of my shoulder blades.
Simultaneously, I saw her painted nails grasp the thin edge of her pussy lips. She pulled them apart so I could see into the maw of her slippery tunnel. A contraction expelled a copious wad of spermy liquid just as she mashed my lips against the glossy spoo-plastered walls. Inserting my tongue I licked from the bottom of the fleshy orifice, where the cum filled hole was, to the top, where it conjoined into a hood. I should have just licked all over. I didn’t realize then that this particular maneuver would have the effect of scooping what seemed to be my whole load onto my tongue all at once. The flavor of the bubbly goo spread out in my mouth. It was bitter or salty, but whatever ambiguous taste it held was overpowered by its texture. I’ve only eaten oysters once, I imagined them as I swallowed, an attempt to remove the offending substance. With my defiled tongue I smeared the remaining seed around working hard to indulge my dear wife. She had another small climax then thanked me, clutching my head as it was smothered in her satisfied sex.
I didn’t really love eating my cum. I have always assumed there were things men did and other things that women did. But the feelings!! The feelings I shared with my wife, the feelings I experienced myself, and the feelings I watched dance on her face, were intense and wonderful. I would love any event wholly that was wrapped up in such feelings.
On other days sometimes we would get home from work and our first act after a welcoming hug would be her lifting her arm to offer me the moist concavity where arm met torso. I knew then that it would be a night that included sex.
Evenings were often filled with me playing the servant and her the served. It was common for a night of TV to conclude with me kneeling between her creamy thighs while she reclined on the couch, a wineglass in one hand, gently stroking my head with the other. I imagined a tiara on her golden haired head and intended to buy her one someday.
We never did try anal, or bondage, and even blowjobs were reserved for my birthday. I loved the expanded list of things we did but it still contained only a few activities more than at first.
I suggested that my queen would enjoy an increase in our repertoire. She agreed wholeheartedly saying that she knew I needed more. She told me that as long as she remained queen she would overturn the entire kingdom to provide her subject with the variety he needed.
The next night she announced she had an idea. She was going to allow me to find another attendant to serve her. I alone would be allowed to please her but the other man could serve drinks, visually appreciate her body, watch us make love, and generally participate in the game as a slave. Meanwhile, in preparation for company, she had bought herself a red queen’s mantle complete with white mink lining and various regalia. She also rearranged the furniture in the living room so the easy chair was now positioned as a throne.
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