When it came to sex, I had always been the dominant partner. I adore my wife, and for over ten years I chafed at the assumption that I should always be on top, and serve myself. Perhaps it was the way my wife was brought up. Sex is for the man, and women don’t really enjoy it. Serve him, and get it over with. A decade of the missionary position (sad term), and little passion. At least in regards to sex.
In terms of the feelings I have for my wife, well… there has always been lots of passion. As I write this, my heart continues to burn with desire.
Anyway, one day my wife had had enough. Instead of the normal “quickie,” she demanded that I serve her. It was all I had hoped for. I never even came that night. Who cares? She did.
Somehow, years of frustration, along with successful stimulation of her nipples, combined to overcome Amy’s rigid upbringing. While sucking her tits (my favorite pastime at that point in time), I was instructed to “go down.” It was exciting, and surreal. I was afraid to wake up.
I stroked her tummy with my tongue, licked her thighs, and gradually made my way to two damp lips surrounded by a delightful forest of blonde hair. The musky scent caused my heart to race. I gently kissed, then nibbled, two wrinkled folds of aromatic skin. Breathing deeply, and not fully convinced of what was finally happening, I probed between the folds with my tongue. There was no mistake, Amy shivered, moaned, and clenched my shoulders. I kissed my wife’s sweet pussy with the same enthusiasm and nervousness that come with any first kiss.
Yes, it was the most sexual experience of my life, but it was more than that. It was an emotional breakthrough. I wept and muttered heartfelt exclamations of love.
Amy began to buck against my face, scrape my shoulders, and pull my hair. She screamed out, “oh fuck,” then I love you, and then collapsed against the sheets. Amy pushed me off, but continued to stroke my hair and coo her love to me. It was the greatest sexual moment of my life. Did I mention I never came?
After first kissing my wife’s pussy, lovemaking became incredibly different. Yes, each encounter started with me kissing her beautiful cunt, but the passion expanded and tweaked the sex that followed our foreplay. Amy became more vulgar (“fuck me now!”), but also incredibly more tender, whispering her devotion and love to me and often bringing me to tears.
Funny, along with the sexual breakthrough there was an emotional breakthrough. Amy and I began to talk. A lot. Some nights, after the kids were asleep, we talked for hours. No sex. Just talk. We talked about how we could love each other better. How we could improve our marriage. We also became more vulnerable. We shared our dreams, fears, fantasies … Of course because we are Christians we would never allow our fantasies to be anything that God would not approve of.
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