She Came to Me – Part 4: The Third Night (L)

(L) – This story contains strong language. 

 

Read the previous parts of the story here:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

 

Author’s Note: The account below is true. Her sexual release described here was real, not invented. It was so wonderful it seemed like a fantasy in some ways, but it was not a fantasy. It may be slightly dramatized for narrative effect, but it truly happened. She is a glorious woman.

 

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After a long day of teasing my wife, I’d gone to bed naked. She had joined me shortly later in only a dress, which we’d quickly stripped off. Now we lay completely naked together.

My swollen penis rubbed against her leg, pre-cum coating her skin. She was delighted.

With her naked on her back, I pulled the duvet off her. I looked at her and began to caress her.

We talked. There was so much hurt still to process from so many years of our bad relationship. A few times she told me her skin hurt from being touched. She cried, releasing so much pent-up pain.

We talked for about an hour. This was the longest time she had ever been naked with me. But she did not hide—and she was not ashamed. I love her so much. She is beautiful.

After that roughly hour-long talk, I turned my head toward her feet, my feet toward her head. It’s my favourite position. I looked over her beautiful body as I oiled her feet and started massaging them. Although I focused only on her feet for now, I opened her legs, pushing them wide apart. Her pussy opened like a flower, her female nectar forming strings between her opening folds. Her entrance was open—fully open. I could see inside her, inviting.

She was excited.

Without mentioning anything sexual, or making any sexual touches, I asked her how she was.

If you are reading this and you are male: nakedness plus touch is not sex. It is not even foreplay. Do not confuse sex with emotional connection and sensual openness.

Even at this point, sex was not guaranteed. I have learned that my woman can be naked, her pussy gushing like a river, and still not be in an erotic mood. Totally weird. But I love her, so I was happy to treat her well, even if sex didn’t happen.

She remained silent and looked away. But then she locked eyes with me while I massaged her feet . . . and she said the magic words. She told me she wanted me. She told me to stop teasing her and make her a woman. She said she needed me.

She did not need sex. She needed *me*.

My one-man mission was complete. All the teasing throughout the day had paid off.

She begged for me. She desired my touch. She didn’t just go along with what I did. She wanted it. She wanted me.

I felt like the power of the pussy was broken. I was in control again—not my desperation or resentment, but me.

It lasted about ten seconds—the time it took me to reach for the lube, lube myself again, and lube her beautiful, inviting, wet pussy. In those short seconds, I quickly realized that the idea that I would ever be completely in control around this beautiful pussy was very unrealistic.

Her natural lubrication is different from the oils she mixes. Her own lube dries after a while, and almost crystallizes. The essential oil lube kept giving.

After our previous encounter when I had been denied visual pleasure, this time, I looked into her eyes and locked them. While looking at her, I inserted my thick thumb deep into her pussy, then removed it. She whimpered. I did it again, slower, then started massaging her clit.

I slowed down and told her I need to know what she enjoys. She gave me the raised eyebrow, indicating questioning, and almost incredulity.

I reminded her that she knew what I enjoyed, so it only made sense that I should know what she liked too.

For my part, there was one thing that seemed to get me to cum faster than anything else. It was when she would have a first orgasm, then place her wet, open, dripping pussy on my face and tell me to suck. She would ride my face and nose into her next pleasure wave. Normally I’d ask her not to touch me yet, because I would cum instantly. Many times, when she just wanted it done so she could sleep, she would take off her panties, sit on my face, and wait until I licked and sucked and put my tongue into her pussy channel. Then she would jerk me five to ten times until I came. It would not even take two minutes. Quick. Effortless. The power of pussy is real.

She seemed a little surprised at me describing to her in detail out loud. She looked away, shy, afraid, embarrassed.

Then she looked back at me and finally answered my question: she told me that she likes it when she is on her back and I lie between her legs, look her in the eyes, and orally pleasure her.

I nearly came just from hearing that.

She had never told me she liked it. I assumed she did it for my pleasure. Even in our lover days, she was never comfortable with me eating her out. The lady doth protest too much.

I told her I would remember.

I focused on her pussy and massaged her clit. Conversation dried up. We had already been naked together for nearly two hours, and we were both ready for more than talking.

She stroked me, and though it felt good, I asked her to slow down. She refused with only a mischievous smirk, so I closed my legs, preventing her from continuing.

I focused on her pussy. Her muscles were milking my thumb like it was a penis. I kept going with the same pace, then gradually slower. I penetrated her as deep as my thumb allowed while my other hand stroked her clit with varying pressure.

I was doing it right, because soon her back arched. Her head fell back.

She came. Hard.

It was beautiful, beholding this gift from God. A mate. A partner. Just for me.

She saved me from my own destruction.

I removed my thumb, locked eyes with her, and placed it in my mouth. I sucked it slowly, purposefully, enjoying her scent and taste—every bit of it. Her eyes opened in shock.

She tried to finish me as well, but I refused, and did not wait for her to react further. Instead, I did exactly what she’d described earlier. I got up, positioned myself between her legs, looked her in the eyes, and slowly lowered my bearded face to her pussy. My lips locked onto her clit, and the games began.

I sucked her clit and twirled it. I used my nose to open her pussy folds, and once or twice, I dipped lower and penetrated her with my tongue to taste her. Previously, she had seemed to always dislike me doing that and would usually leave if I did. But this time she pulled me into her.

I knew she was building. I could feel her warmth. I could feel her wetness. Fuck. My beard against her soft inner lips must have been uncomfortable. But she didn’t stop me, so it must have been a pleasurable sort of discomfort. She might regret this for a few days after, though.

I renewed my effort, and she started bucking up and down, jerking on the bed. I latched on to her clit and did not let go. At some point her hands reached for her clit.

Fuck no, I thought. Tonight you are mine.

I refused to let her touch her clit, covering it completely with my mouth. She tried a few times, then used her hands to spread her pussy open, and lifted her hips, driving her clit even harder into my mouth.

“Right there,” she gasped, “Keep it right there!”

I stopped varying. I stopped moving. I stopped playing. I kept the same pace, the same pressure.

My tongue was tired. I could barely move it. It kept slipping over her clit. The top of her clit was a bit rough where the fold met. The bottom was like a smooth berry, slick and soft.

I could hear her moan. Fuck. That was hot, but . . . My poor son in his room downstairs! I hoped he couldn’t hear this, but that moan was so loud, there seemed to be no way he didn’t hear it. Still, we weren’t about to stop.

This was wild. The vixen had come to visit.

I could feel her legs shaking in anticipation. My hands were under her bum cheeks, and I tightened my grip to force my face deeper into her wet pussy. I licked, I sucked, I played.

Suddenly she yelled. She really yelled.

I hoped my son did not come to check what was wrong. That would have been awkward. If our bedroom door had opened, she would have been fully visible in her nakedness from practically the whole house.

She did not give a fuck.

She moaned. She stretched her pussy open with her hands. She heaved. She got hot to the touch. It felt like there was a fire under her skin.

Then it happened.

Her legs shook. Her back arched. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, a soft howl like a wolf. Her body went tight and tense.

I hung on for dear life.

She fucking squirted into my mouth. It seemed like an endless torrent of female cum. She held my head, pulling it into her pussy so hard that I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. My mouth was filled with so much of her essence, I think some came out through my nose. I had to swallow or drown.

I loved the taste of her sweet release. It was like water that filled my body and spirit. It rejuvenated me. It was slightly cold. I did not taste salt or urine. I swallowed hungrily. I sucked her dry. I wanted more. Fuck, that was awesome!

She locked her legs and pulled away.

She was wild. Her eyes were wide open, her pupils dilated, big and dark. Her nostrils flared like a mare, both in surprise and in an attempt to get get enough air after that exertion. She had no idea what had happened.

She looked at me, hunger in her eyes, and asked, “What about you?”

“I’m going to take you like a man—like a woman is meant to be taken.” I climbed up and grabbed her behind to place a pillow under her. Her pussy quivered, her clit standing out like a red beacon.

I shifted up and placed my penis at her folds . . . but she was in full spasm, like it would let nothing into her love canal. Fuck that, I was determined to get inside of her.

I jerked myself a few times to harden up. I placed my swollen head at her entrance and pushed. It ricocheted off like a bullet on steel.

Fuck.

I moved her higher, placed my head again, and started pushing slowly. It was still like pushing against a wall, and my penis bent uncomfortably from the effort.

She laughed a little at my exertion.

I pushed and pushed, carefully, but firmly. I felt a small glimmer of hope—I could feel movement. Suddenly I plopped into her, too fast to react. I slammed into her with full force and crushed my balls against her inner thigh. Man, that hurt!

Her body went rigid too from the sudden intrusion. I pulled back slightly as her muscles tried to push me out, and deny me entry again, but I did not relent. It took nearly a minute to get back into her pussy. When I got back in, I did not pull out far this time.

I slammed into her with all the power I could muster, repeatedly, hard and deep. I felt my orgasm building. I did not have the strength to wait for her third orgasm. She was mine, and we had teased enough. I had to cum.

With everything I had in me, I slammed my hips into her pussy, pushing myself over the edge. I felt myself cum with force. Her pussy pushed me out again, and I came all over her pussy lips, and on her body.

It was such a strong orgasm, if felt like I was cumming forever.

I marked her with my seed. She had begged me to make her mine, and now she was.

I collapsed. My arms could not hold me up.

Gasping, I told her we were filthy and needed to shower. She pulled me back into bed and said we should catch our breath first.

Instead, my cum-covered wife and I lay there together for probably another hour, taking again. I love her so much.

A few minutes into this second round of conversation, I told her I had something sensitive to share. She looked at me questioningly. I told her that when she had held my head in place, she had actually squirted. I also could not breathe. I had to swallow more than one mouthful or I would have drowned because it was in my nose as well.

Her face pulled in horror. She looked away, holding her breath. She looked back, maybe angry, maybe disgusted, and asked me if there was anything that disgusted me.

I was taken aback. I told her broccoli would never pass my lips, but the drink I had tonight was beautiful—sacred, even.

She asked why.

I told her because no woman can fake that. It is unfiltered desire, born of emotional safety, something that is hard enough to achieve once, never mind three times over four days. I told her it was awesome. It may feel disgusting to her. But this is her body. Pure. Clean. Natural. Sacred.

She looked at me intently, trying to see if I was joking.

I told her to remember: I was there when our son was born. That was beautiful. What happened tonight was beautiful too. Free. Emotional. True love.

She said nothing, and instead just folded into me. I played my fingers through her cum-covered pussy and pubic hair, rubbing my seed into her. She looked annoyed, but at that point I think she realised I would not be denied.

This was beautiful. We were complete.

This is our marriage. Rebirth.

She is mine. I am hers.

We are one.

Tonight, I made her mine. She will carry my seed on her. I will keep her. I will protect her. I will fight for her.

I will take her when my need arises. I will tease her and please her, making her want me.

I will be her safe harbour. I will care for her, physically and emotionally, in sickness and in joy, in riches and in poverty.

We have reset back to year zero. We were given the opportunity to try again.

Happy anniversary, my precious wife.

I hope you never read this or find out that I published it, as the mystery of my disappearance would become a world wonder. To the readers, if you think you know or recognize me or my wife in this story, do not mention this. If you are right, she would not be pleased that I shared the truth of her inner vixen. (Although this was true at the time of submission, it has changed as of the time of publishing. She does know about this writing, and I’m still here to tell the tale!)

She wants you to believe she is a prude. A boring wife. She does not walk naked to the shower through the kitchen with her pussy gaping open between her thighs, her husband’s cum dripping from her tits, dripping from her pussy, and running down her legs.

At least, that’s how it seemed. But maybe that’s changing . . .

The prudishness is unacceptable. Tomorrow night, I’ll make sure it stays gone when I take her again, when I make her beg for my cum, until I please her again, and drink from her fountain of womanhood.