No, this story is not an endorsement for certain discount store. Rather it refers to an anniversary present I gave my wife recently. And to the erotically disorienting effect it had on my workday today. I mean, I consider myself a conscientious hardworking guy, but the images of the mind-blowing love session with my wife Angela last night have kept invading my testosterone-drenched brain all day long, distracting me relentlessly in a rather intrusive way. I can still see it all now as if were yesterday. Of course, it really was just yesterday…
We were both tired, dog tired, way too much stuff going on at home and work, way too much traveling around to this event and that, and we hit the sheets with a deep need for well-deserved sleep. Yet hadn’t Angela been sending little signals all evening that she needed me? Well, after she’d read a few pages in her novel and I’d solved a couple crossword clues, we turned out our bedside lamps and relaxed for a moment, bathed in the soft otherworldly glow of our anniversary present.
It is an old fashioned lava lamp, a blue one at that, they seem to be making a revival of sorts. A simple contraption, really, just a glass tube filled with colored liquid and a small quantity of wax, heated and lighted by a 15 watt bulb in the base, causing a never-ending languid current of cool and hot swirls and swooshes, perfect for staring at to relieve stress. We two are old enough to remember the original lava lamp fad of the 70’s, but it is only now as a married man that I really appreciate its innate sensuality.
I mean, just look at it for few minutes. Take in the smooth gently-tapering erect eight-inch shaft, standing mutely at the ready next to the irresistible form of a curvaceous reclining woman, emanating a steady warmth from its solid base, and you’ll begin to see its true worth.
Appreciate and savor the gentle undulating movements of the soft globules of molten wax inside the lamp, rippling voluptuously into an endless variety of concupiscent shapes, rising and falling in a gentle beckoning rhythm, drawing you now into the fashioning of a man’s growing erection and quivering balls, appearing pale yellow against the blue liquid of the lamp’s interior, only to be replaced seconds later by the mesmerizing spectacle of two separate formless blobs breaking apart from the mass, jiggling for a moment and then joining together as one, one single weightless pulsating sighing body floating through the azure fluid, only to be stretched out once again into the likeness of a never-resting phallus occupying the full height of the lamp.
Come to me Chris she whispered, and I shut our door, walked around to her side of the bed and bent over to give her a gentle kiss. She broke off the kiss and then with a sweet blue smile she drew my erection between her lips into her mouth, deep into her velvety throat. I was in paradise! Wow!
There she lay, head comfortably settled in the pillow with me leaning over her, my hands propping up my torso, like a Bridge over the River Fellatio, offering me a full view of the loving work she was doing on my penis. Work that was illuminated by the Blue Light Special just inches away. She nibbled me, kissed my crown, licked the swollen sensitive underside, rolled me around and around, deep-throated me with a powerful suction and then withdrew me slowly till I was nestled just inside her moist pouting lips, in a variety of oral sensations that flowed seamlessly from one to the next, keeping pace with the hypnotic oscillations in the lava lamp.
I watched as her face took on the expression of intense concentration, a grimace actually, followed by a relaxed sigh, and then almost a playful grin, her eyes closed the whole time and her head barely moving. The blue light glinted from time to time off her teeth and fingernails, which now were raking deliciously across my shaft. Her nostrils flared and her breathing gradually deepened with her own rising ardor, drawing as much oxygen from the air as a girl can while simultaneously swallowing her man’s phallus.
Now her fingers traced a lazy blue path down to her secret place, and I could barely make out the rhythm of her fingers on her clit. Positively hypnotizing! Leaning over her as I was my hands were not free to join in the fun, but–still buried deep in my dear wife’s throat–I could reach her soft cerulean bosom with my lips and tongue. And that is just what I did, savoring the succulent mammary morsel as she fingered herself in her own special way.
Time after time Angela brought us to the brink of orgasm, appearing as a pornographic psychedelic dream with my blue dick sliding in and out of her mouth, uttering guttural groans and giggles while her fingers quietly danced along the folds of her vulva.
After one particularly loud slurp Angela released me from her indigo lips and directed my rigid penis down to her womanhood, then plunged me deep into her welcoming smoothness, grabbing my ass and pulling with all her might. I held this pose, arms extended to support my upper body, watching my wife’s finger sneak back into the spot where our bodies were joined and resume its steady rhythmic caresses. What a show! She often is too shy to let me watch her do this, preferring the darkness, but last night she was diddling herself with blue abandon.
I watched as if in a trance Angela’s other fingers move from pinching and tweaking my nipples down to her own heaving breast, pausing for just a moment before grasping her round little sapphire of a breast bud between thumb and forefinger. Eyelids still shut against the soft blue light of the lava lamp, Angela’s face contorted and furrowed and blushed a dark cobalt hue as her climax approached. I was almost motionless suspended over my dear wife like that, while her deeply penetrated vagina gyrated in time to her clit-stroking left hand, nipple-tweaking right hand, and her involuntarily twitching and pouting lips.
What a sight! My feeble printed words don’t come close to describing the glorious experience my wife was treating me to.
The moment I perceived the first tightening of her vagina around my shaft I pulled out to where my cockhead was just inside her lips, in the special place where her G-spot dwells, and Angela responded with a frantic bout of thrashing and gasping, desperately pulling on my butt and wrapping her legs around mine, trying like crazy to pull me back deep inside. As soon as she got me there we were both overtaken with seismic earthquakes of orgasms, erupting into joyful spasms of shared climax. Both her trembling hands let go of her own body and dug their nails into my back and shoulders, clutching for dear life as we plunged headlong over the precipice of sanity into the heavenly abyss of orgiastic delight.
The heavenly blue abyss, that is, of orgiastic blue delight. All day long that’s the only color I’ve seen, absolutely cannot get the indigo image of my transfigured wife out of my mind.
You know, I think I’ve seen those things for sale in red, green, and orange as well.
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