Tasting Sarah

What she had not expected was my response when she had come back to our bed after Stephan had come inside her. She had wanted to punish me, and the see just how far I would go to get her back. Her challenge, to use my tongue on her when she got back, had more of a tease than an condition. She had never expected to get as far as kneeling above me, not with Stephan's semen already trickling from her, let alone that I would actually tongue her out.

As far as Sarah was concerned, all she had wanted was for me to realise that she could have other guys if she wanted to, just like the guys eyeing her on the camp site, but she chose to be with me. She would have been happy that night if I had just made love to her, or even just held her, to show that I still loved her. That was all it would have needed. We could have started to move on.

Instead she had been amazed that I had wanted her so much that I was prepared to use my mouth on her when she was still fresh from Stephan. That, to her, had sealed the deal. It had also turned her on, so much so that when she had sensed a globule of Stephan's semen slide from her as I was lapping at her, that alone had brought about her climax. She loved me for doing that for her.

There was, of course, plenty of opportunity for that to happen again, while we were on holiday. Most of the other campers were in couples, or families, but there were single guys there as well, both on holiday, and working there as lifeguards, waiters, or whatever. Like I said, Sarah's all over freckled tan, and her slim, full breasted figure, got their attention.

Only once did it go anywhere. I had gone surfing, leaving Sarah on a lounger. A guy had taken the adjacent lounger when I got back, and was smoothing sun lotion on her back.

I took the bottle from his hand, and took his other hand by the wrist, gripping it tightly, and taking it from Sarah's back.

"She's my wife," I said. "Fuck off!"

He left.

Sarah, of course was right. She could have any guy she wanted. But not if she wanted me.

A year later, there was no problem with families cancelling. No one died in Scotland. No student had to be housed at the last minute. Instead, Sarah arranged in advance for one of the students to stay with us. A French Moroccan, Michel, from Marseilles, tall, lean, dark olive skinned, and fluid in his movements on the basketball court.

For an entire month I was reminded of what had taken place the year before. Sarah could, at any time, decide to visit Michel in our spare bedroom, just as she had Stephan. I knew that Michel would not turn her down.

At basketball, Michel was cocky, confident of his skills on court. In the changing room, he was relaxed, unconcerned who saw his cock. I still had to turn on the stop cock for the showers, and saw it often. It was two shades darker than the rest of him, almost black. He shaved, which may have emphasised his size. I never saw his cock erect, but semi-tumescent it was as large as mine erect, and he was circumcised, in keeping with his faith. Any time she wanted it, this cock would love to slide and thrust its way inside my wife.

Of course Sarah knew, that just by having this student stay with us, she was reminding me again, punishing me for the year before. She enjoyed it. She clearly liked seeing me watch Michel across the table, or in our lounge, knowing what was going through my mind.

She enjoyed it in our bedroom too. Having Michel staying with us, knowing what might happen, I was almost permanently aroused, and needed to unload myself more than ever. In bed was when I punished Sarah for this months long tease, hammering into her to vent my frustration that she was playing with me through Michel's presence in our flat. My wife loved every minute of it. I hated the suspense of not knowing, but loved the effect it had on my desire for her.

Right up to Presentation Evening I waited, wondering if she would make a move, beginning to think that it would not happen.

Then, that evening, I was putting on my suit while she was dressing, black bra, black suspender belt, black stockings, cleavage revealing black dress, black four inch heels, nothing else. No thong. My heart beat raced, as I wondered if that meant what I thought it meant.

Presentation Evening over, Michel back in our flat, in his room, his final night, we went to our own bedroom. Sarah undressed, down to her suspender belt and stockings.

"I won't go if you ask me not to," she said.

My cock was hard. I could have said no, and given her a fucking that both of us would remember.But something kept me silent.

While I waited for Sarah to return, I had some good memories of fucking Lauren, and of sucking Sarah. When she returned, she climbed onto the bed, offering me her cunt.

That was two years ago. Last year Sarah chose a Norwegian, barely nineteen, a footballer, Tor, whose cock I never saw, in the flat or in the college changing rooms. As one of the footballers, he used the pavilion changing rooms and not those by the gym. His application said that he intended studying medicine, and his grades from high school to date were excellent. Like me, he is tall, blonde and well built, not unlike Stephan two years before, but with Stephan and with Michel, Sarah was on the pill.

This time the month long turmoil and suspense while Tor stayed with us was even greater. This was not just about Sarah going to his bedroom, but the potential consequences if she let him come inside her.

Presentation Evening came around,coincidentally just when we knew that Sarah would be at her peak fertility, but yet again she left off her thong. Yet again, she undressed in front of me, right to her stockings and suspender belt, her framed pubis, bare and unprotected.

She paused at the door again, not saying anything this time, but giving me time to ask her not to go. I passed on the opportunity, and said nothing, but for the next hour my cock was never as hard as it was then. What would be would be.

FUUUCK!!

Sarah came back in, closing the door,coming to our bed, her hands casually behind her back, her lower lips protruding red ad glistening.

Carefully, she climbed on top, lowered herself, and I prepared myself to taste the semen that would be oozing from her, that would still leave millions of active, healthy, footballing sperm swimming around her fertile womb.

The bitterness that time was different. The scent was chemical, not naturally produced. It had been a long time since I had used a condom, but I recognised the smell and taste of spermicide.

That was when Sarah brought her right hand from behind her back, holding the used condom, swollen with Norwegian semen. She had brought two condoms with her, just in case, tucked into her suspender belt, and worn there through the Presentation Evening, pressing against her side, reminding her of what she planned to do,later in the evening.

We called our son Tor, knowing that even with a condom there had been a risk, but also finding out when we discovered that Sarah was expecting, that conception had actually taken place a month before, in June, and not during the college summer school. Tor was mine, and had started life even before his namesake had taken his turn with Sarah.

We have moved to a larger, three bed-roomed flat, so that Tor has his own room, and we still have one spare for friends and relatives, and for the foreign students who shared our flat each summer.

The college extended its advertising of the summer school, given increasing competition from other colleges. This year, for the first time, students were recruited from French speaking African countries such as Senegal.

Sarah was still feeding Tor, but our student's black male hormones really did not care, and he reminded Sarah of someone she had turned down, way back at university when she first had had her pubic hair removed,and had not yet let a guy take her virginity. My fling with the luscious Lauren has become my wife's excuse to catch up on missed opportunities from her youth, and semen spewed from a black cock tastes pretty much the same.

So once a year, my wife offers me her cunt, tasting sweetly bitter and reminding me that she can have any man she wants, that having her should be enough for me, and that I have no need to stray.

Every four or five weeks, between summer schools, my wife reminds me as she did last night, not with foreign sperm, but with my own, offered back to my lips after we have made love. Tasting its bitterness I am reminded of Lauren, of Stephan, of Michel, of the other Tor, and now of Senegal, five students who have each in their way added to our marriage.

Neither of us has ever said it, but I know that Sarah knows that each time that she tastes bitter, it turns me on, and makes me love her even more. It is no punishment. It has become for me a five star celebration of marriage to an amazing wife.