My Desire for Her: The Gift of Celebration

“I’m worried you can smell cum on my breath.”

Hearing those words from my wife put me over the top. My cock erupted, five big spurts, shooting out semen much further than usual, up into her lap and onto her pajamas. She was giving me a handjob, a nice Saturday morning supplement to our love life of 14 years.

But this one was different. It was by far the most intense orgasm I’ve had. More cum than I ever had before, more force, more distance. Her lap, pajamas, and hands were covered with my white, sticky sperm. Beth moaned in excitement and joy. We were both grateful for each other, our sexuality, and God’s mysterious gift to us.

Please let me explain, in hopes that this will help any other married couples who may still suffer as we used to.

I was a virgin when I met Beth, but she was not. She had one boyfriend before me, and in fact, they were engaged. About a half year before we met, she and Alex knew they had to part. They grew to realize they had made a mistake, and they parted amicably. His loss was my gain, but, unfortunately, Beth and Alex had been sexually intimate.

I have never judged her for this. That was a matter between her and the Lord. Especially because they broke off their engagement, she regrets their premature intimacy. She humbly returned to a Biblical life. We weren’t sexually active until our own marriage.

But we had a problem. Although I never judged Beth, I suffered on and off from intense jealousy. And she knew it. It was the largest source of sadness in our marriage. I have been, at times, obsessed. I’d see “movies” in my mind of her and Alex being intimate. I didn’t want the visuals, but I couldn’t stop them.

I was mostly worried about the effect my jealousy had on Beth. After asking for and receiving God’s forgiveness, she should have felt peace. But instead, due to my continuing jealousy, she felt undue shame. This is my fault.

Over the years, I tried many things to move past the jealousy—prayer, of course, and counseling from both therapists and pastors. I’d find momentary peace, but months later, the monster of jealousy would return. The movies of Beth and Alex being sexual would start up again. It hurt so much to imagine the love of my life, the mother of our children, enjoying sexual pleasure with another. It hurt to be the cause of so much sorrow in our marriage. You see, it wasn’t really her past intimacy that was the problem; it was my fighting it, my occasionally obsessive attitude toward it.

This almost brings me to the story of the intense handjob. Four years have passed since then, and I remain fully convinced that God gave us a mysterious gift that morning. Since that gift was so personal, so particular, I now need to be personal. I need to be graphic—that is part of the gift. Please allow me; I believe this is important.

Probably the most difficult part of Beth’s sexual history for me was that she performed oral sex on Alex, letting him ejaculate into her mouth and swallowing his semen.

I consider giving a blowjob and swallowing cum the most intimate act a woman can do for a man. I absolutely love how generous Beth is in sucking me off and swallowing my cum (and I try to return the favor every chance I get.) But a part of me couldn’t get over how she used to do the same for Alex. This hangup of mine saddened me; it kept me from fully enjoying our sexuality and from fully honoring Beth, my own wife.

On the morning in question, I was at the lowest point. We had made love the night before, but I woke up with the jealous movies playing. It wasn’t fair—to me or to us, but especially not to Beth, a child of God.

I went downstairs, silently crying, despairing, praying. Emotionally spent, I fell asleep and dreamed of a very specific, impossible, and sexual event. I guess you could say it was a fantasy, a wet dream. I woke before I climaxed.

But wake I did, extremely hard and excited. Most remarkably, a switch inside me seemed to have flipped. I felt in my heart it was a gift from God. I knew I would soon be completely at peace with Beth’s sexual history and sexuality. But the most important thing wasn’t my peace and well-being. It was Beth’s. I knew I needed to share this Grace with her. As part of the gift, I somehow knew how to do this. I quickly sat down and wrote Beth a short letter.

Beth had brushed her teeth but was back sitting in bed in her pajamas. She could tell something was different in my being, and she could tell I was excited. I told her I loved her, then said that something wonderful had happened. And I asked her to trust me as I handed her the note.

The note explained what I went through in my dream and why it was so important. And it concluded with a request for Beth to help me play out the fantasy. She seemed skeptical (you’ll see why), especially about what I sketched out for her to say, but she could tell how important it was to me, and she realized how far I’d already come in just sharing the fantasy. She agreed to play along.

I took off my boxers. We assumed our usual position when Beth gives me a handjob: sitting pretzel-style facing each other, our knees close enough to touch. I leaned in to kiss her, but following my request, she gave me her cheek instead—this hesitancy to kiss was in the note.

The fantasy made little sense because it involved me winning her away from Alex. That didn’t happen since I only met her after they parted, and Beth and I weren’t intimate until we were married. Even though this is a fantasy, it’s important to note that neither of us was behaving unfaithfully. This fantasy of us falling in love and me winning her away does not include any unfaithfulness, just a sped-up, made-up version of events.

But somehow, acting out this fantasy was important to both of us, so we pretended to be back in time. I leaned in to kiss Beth, and she gave me her soft cheek again. But she was touching my cock, pumping it slowly. Every once in a while, her other hand would reach under my balls, gently rubbing them.

“I love you,” I told her.

“I love you, too.”

“We were meant for each other.”

“I know. I know…”

She let me kiss her closed lips, pumping my cock more urgently now. Her other hand was coaxing my balls. When I wasn’t kissing her face, she looked into my eyes briefly, then turned her gaze downward to watch her hands on my cock. I was larger than I’d ever been. Sometimes, although it wasn’t really warranted, she’d use two hands to pump me.

“You have a great cock.”

I tried kissing her again, but her lips stayed closed. Although part of me knew she was complying with the request from my note, more of me remained fully immersed in the fantasy and unsure why she wouldn’t kiss. I couldn’t understand it. We professed our love again, but most things remained unspoken. I was getting close. Beth moaned.

I tried kissing her again, but her lips stayed closed. I also noticed that when she spoke, she hid her mouth behind her hand or faced downward. I loved her hands on me, but I wanted our mouths together so badly.

“Why won’t you kiss me? I really want you to.”

“I want to, I do, but… I just can’t now.”

She watched her hands. My cock was straining; we both knew I was getting close. I put my lips to hers again, kissing between her responses. I was about to burst.

“I need your mouth. Kiss me.”

“I can’t.

“Why?”

“I… I was with Alex earlier, one last time.”

“It’s OK. I love you; I need you. Kiss me, or tell me why you can’t!”

Our mouths were together now. But Beth turned her face downward.

“I was with Alex. I’m worried…” She steals a glance at me. She sees there isn’t much time left. “I’m worried you can taste his cock in my mouth. I’m worried you can taste and smell his cum.”

With that, she opened her mouth, and we kissed passionately, our tongues exploring and playing. It was glorious. We were both moaning. I loved her sweet mouth.

But I quickly leaned away, her signal to watch me cum. Thick spurts shot up into her clothed lap, my cock erupting like never before. She groaned in excitement, watching it all. By far, this was my most forceful, largest, exciting orgasm.

We leaned together again, kissing passionately. It was cathartic. We were back in the present, the mission of the fantasy fulfilled.

“I love you.”

“I love you. I love all of you. I love your mouth; I love your cummy mouth.”

“Oh, stop!”

“I do! You saw how much I came! I love your cummy mouth; I love your breasts, your pussy, our lovemaking. But I especially love that cummy little mouth.”

“Stop!” (But she was laughing.)

We both knew things would be different going forward, that I was at peace with everything. Because God gave me the wisdom to accept her sexual past—and especially to celebraate it, believe it or not—I knew her past should remain there, and I told her it would. From now on, it would just be the two of us.

But she had a surprise for me.

“You know, there are plenty of sexual things I’ve done only with you.”

“I know.”

“And even some things I’ve never done yet…”

She moved her hand to her mouth, making a show of licking off my cum. Then, as best she could, she scooped up my remaining sperm from her lap and clothes, also licking it into her wet sticky mouth.

“Kiss me.”