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Anticipation. Exciting moments of passion. These lead to that exquisite culminating moment of release. This glorious experience almost defies words. As a man, this point causes me internal conflict, a battle between the desire to continue enjoying the ongoing ardor and the longing for the mind-stopping pleasure of the final moment. Watching my wife, seeking to take her to that point of joy, again and again, seeing her body as she loses all control, can become more pleasurable than my own climax. These single instants, stretching into minutes in our heads, fill a hidden need in the depths of our souls as we come together as one and bring each other over the cliffs of bliss.
She poises on all fours as I enter her from behind. Sweat glistens down her neck while her hair sways energetically. She pushes back against me as I urgently pull her hips, and a high keening comes from her as I groan. Her pussy clamps, holding, sucking me in deeper as she shakes. Strong pulses come up through my body, and I see stars, wanting nothing but to push myself further, deeper, fully into her. I feel everything empty into her as if we are one, sharing this moment for eternity, and my mind shuts down to bask in the physical joy.
Or I lick her, my tongue exploring the wonder of her sex. Tasting her juices as they begin to flow, the intoxicating smell of her causes me to grow. Her hips start grinding as she pulls my head deeper into her. My mouth sucks, licks, pulls at her clit as she squeals. My fingers enter her and rub her lower lips while she trembles. They rub her rim as it loosens and tightens. Her back arches, I feel a warm rush of liquid, and intense joy suffuses me as she loses control and shakes uncontrollably. Then she goes limp, breathing deeply and sighing.
Another time, she kneels before me, her tongue flicking across my tip as her sensual lips envelop my manhood. At first sucking gently, she then urgently pulls all of me into her mouth. Her fingers caress my balls and rub my backside, causing me to tremble. A small smile teases the corners of her full mouth as she looks up at me with those gorgeous, large brown eyes, and the look triggers my release. Her mouth opens slightly, and I see my semen land on her magical tongue. She sucks me again and swallows as I lose my mind at the sight of her. She smiles again, satisfied that she alone can bring me such a precious, perfect, selfless moment.
Sometimes she jerks me in the car as my hand climbs up her pantiless skirt. Her head tilts back with pleasure, the squeeze of her hand signaling that she is coming. She urgently strokes me, desire burning in her eyes. My hand rubs her now-slick pussy and ass, and she tilts up as I finger her front and rear deeply. She squirms, and I moan as I finish, trying not to crash. The sensations, her pleasurable squealing, the musky smells, and the task at hand overload my mind. I watch her rub her pussy, then place her wet fingers in her mouth. She looks at me wickedly, knowing how this turns me on, then leans over and slowly licks at the puddle in my lap.
In all its forms, that moment is what we chase, what we crave, what we seek to gift to each other—a crystallized, perfect few seconds of such physical closeness and brain-breaking joy. It’s a time when we reaffirm our love for each other, our submission to each other, our desire for each other, and our hope for each other’s pure, holy pleasure. The gift of orgasm is a physical token of our love, exploding from emotion to tangible fruition.
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