While my wife was away for a nine-day visit to her parents, I decided to grow a beard. It was scruffy, with flecks of color sprinkled among the white whiskers; with it, I looked like a different man from my almost always clean-shaven former self. She liked it, but I remained unsure. It just felt so weird.
My mind often wanders towards sex, so it was no wonder that questions regarding my now hairy face occupied my thoughts. What will it feel like to kiss my wife? Will I seem like a new man, and is that a good or bad thing? What would it be like if I came up behind her and nuzzled her neck? Usually, she likes this, but it’s sometimes too strong if I have a little stubble. My thoughts drifting lower, I wonder what my furry checks would feel like on her inner things when I went down on her. And most perplexingly, how will my hairy face interact with her hairy bush?
Those last two questions seemed pretty theoretical since she is not a fan of receiving oral sex. She is a generous giver of oral pleasure (see this story) but generally can’t seem to relax when receiving.
I put all these thoughts aside, and six weeks passed; time for vacation. We did all sorts of activities to have fun, loosen up, and enjoy each other. But a few days into the trip, my wife became irritable and went to bed early in the afternoon, wearing earphones and eye shades. She looked a little otherworldly, but her nips poking through her thin cotton nightgown made it sexy, and I had to exercise impulse control to keep my hands off her and let her sleep. As I pulled into bed beside my tuned-out wife, I decided to reiterate my earlier wish that she not wear panties under her nightgown during our trip. It’s warm, we’re on vacation, and I love spooning her, feeling her bare skin against mine, and occasionally poking her backside with a nocturnal boner.
I asked, and she agreed, but with some attitude—some real and some playful. I told her that if she planned to tune me out, then I should at least get her bare skin.
She huffed, then said, “Fine, you take them off.”
I walked to her side of the bed, pulled down the covers, and removed her undies. She playfully complained again, which prompted me to roll her to her side and swat her bare ass a few times. That was fun, and she seemed to like it even though she won’t admit it.
One source of her irritability was a sore knee, for which she asked for a bag of ice. I brought it to her, but the combination of having ice cubes in my hand and seeing her hard nips under the nightgown brought out the mischievous side of me. With her auditory and visual senses blocked, I could pull a cube out of the bag and quickly slide it under her gown to her nip.
My wife shrieked and pushed me away, but she was also laughing. After a couple of seconds, I had mercy on her and agreed that the ice was a bit cold, but I decided to keep going at her nice round tits and super hard nips with my hands and mouth. She has sensitive nips, so she can’t take much of this. Usually, she would cover her boobs with her hands and end the fun, but this time she shocked me.
“Go down lower,” she said.
I couldn’t believe my ears. In 25 years of marriage, I can’t think of another time my wife has asked me to go down on her. Not waiting to make sure if I heard her correctly or not, I moved south to her hairy mound while mentally revisiting my questions about how bearded cunnilingus would feel.
As I crossed my wife’s mound, my hair grazing hers created a slowing, lingering effect that suggested I not go so fast. I was down with that, so I headed to the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs. As I moved downward, I felt the moist heat and smelled the intoxicating aroma flowing from her opening. A few hairs tangled together to tug me back, but I kept going and headed left, where I brushed my cheek whiskers against her thigh. Slowly, gently, I moved back and forth, experimenting with different speeds, pressures, and patterns. I didn’t hear anything from her, which didn’t tell me much since she’s never vocal during sex, but I can see her response in the opening of the two sets of pink lips before me.
I give the right thigh a little scratch with my other cheek and then move north to position myself for exploring her opening with my tongue. Tasting the tanginess, I felt proud of how wet I’d made her; her juices had soaked the hair on my chin. I continued to play, moving my tongue in and out, side to side, and licking the area between her inner and outer labia. I was having a good time, but by now, my baby was rocking forward, pushing her clit towards my mouth.
With my tongue inside her, my mustache pressed against a tuft of long hair protecting her clit. But as I moved up, our hair seemed to cling together once again and slow me down, gently pulling. As though it were meant to be, the hair on my upper lip held her pubes away from her bud, letting my lips close around it and my tongue play—first circling, then making it flat on top, then repeating the sequence.
My wife didn’t last long. Reaching behind my head, she pulled me in, bucked, and then let out a small moan before pushing my head back and turning hers to the side.
My face was wet, my beard holding the moisture. I felt primal and fierce. I rose between her legs, put my hard cock into the place it belongs, and pounded away, making her awesome boobs bounce in unison. I felt overwhelmed by the softness and wetness, and I just wanted to come inside her. A few strokes later, I blew my load with a grunt. Awesome.
I flopped off her, and she rolled into me, soft and lovely.
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