My Desire for Her: Seduced into a new act

The past three or four years have been extra sexually intimate for my wife Beth and me. The timing of this is no coincidence, and readers of my earlier stories—with a more challenging theme—may be happy to learn how we’ve been reaping the benefits of getting my act together.

We had a memorable evening last weekend. Younger friends of ours were getting married, and Beth, who plays cello, was part of the string quartet, which performed for the prelude and ceremony. (The reception featured a good local band.) I’m a feminist, but I don’t mind admitting that if you happen to have a relationship with a female cellist, the way she sits while playing could drive you wild with lust. Beth knows this about me and has, on occasion prohibited me from being in the same room at home while she rehearses.

Although I was careful to tell her that I was looking forward to hearing her play, I was also really anticipating getting to watch her. This was especially true because of the venue, as we, like many couples I imagine, often have great sex after attending a wedding.

We arrived early at the church so the quartet could acclimate to the acoustics and rehearse. They set up in the usual arrangement of a tight semicircle, with the cello on the right. I wouldn’t be sitting as close when the service started, but for now, I was two or three rows from the front, almost in front of Beth. Two people were behind the quartet, readying the altar, but I was the only one in front of them.

As the musicians got ready, unpacking and arranging everything, Beth caught my eye. I saw her start adjusting her dress a little, and she leaned and spun her cello on its endpin to do this, which more or less blocked her colleagues’ view of what she did next. Making sure she still had my attention, she quickly raised her dress over her left knee and then briefly opened it so only I could see. I expect to see her creamy thighs and maybe white panties, but instead, I had a quick view of her full, dark bush. My cock stirred right away. I was amazed she did this. She looked away from me, embarrassed.

The group started rehearsing, other people entered the nave, and soon the service began. But the image of her crotch was seared into my memory. (I’m so thankful she’s never had the desire to shave more than what she feels is necessary for a swimsuit.)

I’d never been so jealous of her cello before. I couldn’t get the thought of her bare pussy out of my mind. It simply floored me that I was sitting in a crowded church, Beth in front, legs spread open around her cello, her pussy open to the air under her dress. I could concentrate on little else. My cock stayed hard, and I felt my mouth salivate.

I’m always impressed with a musician’s dexterity. In addition to the picture of Beth’s hairy crotch in my mind, her hands mesmerized me, especially her left hand on the fingerboard. Her long slender fingers are sexy to me. After a while, my mind put these images together, and I had fleeting moments of imagining her fingers on her pussy, running through her brunette pubic hair, stroking herself. Soon, I found it hard to think of anything else.

Afterward, I told her truthfully that seeing her flash her bush was the most tantalizing thing that ever happened to me. (I didn’t mention my reverie about her fingers.)

She said she saw me a few times during the ceremony, and that I had my bedroom eyes. It’s not what most people mean by that phrase. I don’t look like I’m trying to seduce anyone. My bedroom eyes are the eyes of someone stupified by lust. Completely in her sexual thrall, I’m powerless to look away. My pupils dilate, I stare, my mouth is often agape. Momentarily, I cannot do anything, think of anything but beauty and desire. (I’m often susceptible to her cleavage, too.)

We enjoyed the reception, with many friends in attendance. Her lack of panties stayed on my mind the entire night, especially as we danced. (Alas, we were seated apart, though at the same table, to aid in conversation with others.) And I couldn’t shake the idea and image of her fingering herself. It drove me wild.

Soon we found ourselves home. Our kids were asleep when we arrive there, so we had a little freedom in our bedroom. Both clean and ready for bed, we kissed deeply, and then I told Beth what I wanted tonight. I’d been thinking about it all evening.

We’ve enjoyed just about every carnal and oral permutation of genitals, mouth, and hands, every combination of kneeling, sitting, standing, and laying; sexual fluids wind up on our skin, deep into her body, or hungrily ingested by her and me. Yet there’s one thing we’ve never tried.

“I want to watch you make yourself cum.”

Among those permutations above, we’ve both touched ourselves to orgasm in the other’s company. But this happened long ago, and it occurred while we were both lying down under the covers, me (twice, I think) while she fondled my balls, her (again only a few times) while I sucked and licked her nipples. We’ve not done so together, above the covers, with the other explicitly watching.

She hesitated only a little.

“Only if you do it, too. I want to watch you.”

Fair is fair, and, honestly, it sounded exciting. I’ve sometimes held myself as she’s blown me, but this would be very different. I could tell raising the level of this kind of intimacy excited us both.

The low lighting was low, perfect for this. We got naked, and Beth leaned back against the headboard, legs spread. Although her breasts were visible, she had the covers pulled up to her waist—alright for now. I took the lead, kneeling between her legs but above the covers. I started touching myself, playing with my cock, gently pumping, rubbing… just getting started. She watched me intently.

Soon, her hands under the covers began to move a little. I waited, touching myself and watching her. Although our eyes met occasionally, we watched each other’s hands for the most part.

Just as I decided to gently move the covers off her, she did it herself, exposing her hairy pussy. I groaned. First, she simply combed through her full, luscious pubic hair, just like I pictured it at the wedding. I loved how my fantasy had come true. Soon I saw her parting her brunette hair to expose her pink slit. It felt unbelievably intimate and intense to me.

She ran a finger, with its short, unpainted nail, along her pink slit again and again. I could see how wet she was getting. Every so often, she subtly entered her pussy, pushing her finger a short distance up inside her. Mesmerizing.

I wanted to keep increasing the stakes, too, loving the progression she’d been making. My right hand remained on my cock, pumping it, its fingers rubbing my frenulum. Now I slowly move my left hand to my balls, watching her watch me. I rubbed my sack with that hand, lifting it and rubbing underneath. I keep myself trimmed, so my own hair down there is not too long. Masturbating alone, I might imagine Beth’s tongue there, but that didn’t enter into my thinking at the time. I simply and only touched myself as an act in itself for my enjoyment and for Beth to watch. I imagine she felt the same way.

We continued for a long while, increasing the tension, building ourselves up, then backing away. We both wanted this to last.

Beth started more rigorously touching herself now, stroking her slit with more pressure and pushing her finger farther inside herself. Then, her fingertip moved up to her small, hard clit. She likes stroking its length with one finger, alternating with using two to sandwich her hood and gently knead it. Soon she’s using three fingers to move in small circles over her clit. It surprised me how inexact her movements seemed, how fast and forceful.

We settled into a routine. When she got extra active or introduced a new element, I backed off, only lazily touching myself. When my turn for intensity came, she slowed down and focused on watching me.

I had taken my hand away from my balls, wanting to keep that act in reserve. Deciding to show her what I do sometimes when I masturbate, I wetly licked the first few fingers of my right hand. She watched me rub the wetness under my cockhead along the sensitive frenulum. My cock responded with a jump, as if it yearned for more. If alone, I’d imagine Beth getting me wet with her mouth. I repeated the action several times, getting my cockhead wet all along the ridge. Stealing a downward glance, I saw it glisten a little in the light.

In for a penny, in for a pound: now I licked along the whole length of my index finger and thumb. I put them in my mouth repeatedly, making sure they were abundantly wet with my saliva—almost dripping. Then I took those two digits and form a circle, and Beth watched me push the circle over my cock. It felt amazing, just the right combination of tight friction and moisture.

“Oh…” This was a new idea for Beth. I love having a wife who’s always been more familiar with blowjobs than handjobs.

I repeated that several times, and then I backed off, needing my excitement to level off. Also, truth be told, I actually prefer a handjob to be less wet, it increases the difference from a blowjob. So I let my cock dry off in the air, while I rubbed my balls now again. Now it was my turn to watch Beth, and I excitedly focused on her.

This time, I couldn’t help but notice my other senses. I got a thrill from realizing how wet she sounded finger-fucking herself; it’s a sound like no other. The rich, intoxicating scent of her pussy obviously scented the air, too, its potency one of the benefits of her lack of panties this evening. Not able to get enough, I leaned in to position my face closer to her crotch and inhaled deeply. She caught my eye, knowing what I did. I loved thinking about how everyone at the wedding could see her fingers moving on the cello, but only I got to see those same fingers down in her hairy crotch, rubbing her pink slit, massaging her hard clit, and pushing up into her wet pussy.

I felt so excited by what we were doing, but I was also giddy in anticipation. More than ejaculating up into her pussy—even more than spurting into her wet, willing mouth—the act of Beth watching me cum, seeing my semen actually emerge from my cock, is indescribably intimate to me. It wouldn’t matter if my sperm shot out forcefully or dribbled out. I know she’s tasted and swallowed it countless times, I know her tongue and mouth and vagina are intimately familiar with me ejaculating, with how my cock gets engorged and spasms when I have an orgasm. But her actually watching the fluid erupt from the opening of my cock struck me as somehow more personal. It seemed so private a bodily function. And instead of her watching me cum while enclosed in her hand, it would be from my own larger hand. Beth could see me grasp my own cock and aim toward her face. As the cum spurted from my cock, she’d be looking right at it. The anticipation made me dizzy. I had to tell Beth.

“I want you to watch me cum.”

I’d said that before, though.

“I want you to watch me make myself cum.”

She groaned and licked her lips.

We were both getting close, softly moaning. Her fingers stayed almost exclusively on her clit now, circling it ever more quickly and firmly, but sometimes dipping below to bring up more moisture. She whispered that she was almost there.

“Me too.” I left my balls alone, but positioned the bedspread under them so I could feel its light pressure and texture. Beth knows I sometimes do this when she’s on top of me, pulling them over my legs, up to and under my balls. She likes that I do so, and she asked me now, watching me, “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yeah, it does… Oh, Beth, I’m going to cum soon. I want you to watch me cum. I want you to watch me make myself cum.”

“Watch me, too. Watch me finger my cunt.”

We hardly ever use that word, maybe two or three times total; it’s too associated with misogyny. But in the right setting and at the right time, just between us, it can convey perfectly the explicit, primal, vulnerable, physically honest, sprea- bare-naked, cavernous, aromatic, hungry wet pink hairy femininity.

“I’ll go after you, right away,” I told her.

Now she turned up to face me, and our eyes locked. Beth teetered on the edge. Her legs tensed up; her toes curled. One hand rubbed her clit in small circles while her other hand, with a finger up inside her slit, moved in and out harder than I expected. She moaned, and then it washed over her. Beth held her breath, then let out a more guttural sound. Her legs stiffened and stopped moving. Her hand left her clit, and I saw how engorged and wet it was. Her whole vaginal area pulsed and spasmed subtly. She kept her finger up inside her as she moaned a few more times.

I knew her clit was way too sensitive to be touched now. Below, she slowly moved her finger in and out just a little bit. Then, fully satiated, she pulled out. Her finger is wet, her pussy a beautiful mess.

“I felt myself contract around my finger, hard. That was so good. Oh, God, that was a big release!”

I wish I could wait, but I couldn’t. “I have to cum. Watch me cum.”

I raised myself to my knees, and Beth raised up, too, leaning toward me with her arms behind to support her. Her face hung close to my cock, and I aimed it right toward her and pumped it harder a few times.

“Oh Beth, watch me cum.” She was right there, and I felt my orgasm well up. I groaned loudly as my cock erupted, my semen spurting out as all the tension came to a head. One big spurt landed between her neck and shoulder, another in her lap. A few smaller spurts came out and coated my fingers. Beth watched intently, moaning each time the fluid came out of the slit at the end of my cock.

“Oh, baby, I see it. I see your cum coming out. I see it come up out of your hard cock. It’s so hot.”

I held my cock toward her and massaged a few more dribbles out. My body relaxed, and I slowly sank back down, also spent and completely satiated.

Beth lowered herself to the mattress, too. It was quiet again, and we caught our breath. We looked at each other; then, a little embarrassed, we looked down.

“We need to do this more,” Beth suggested.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t have agreed more.