tagErotic CouplingsGimme a B! Gimme a J!

Gimme a B! Gimme a J!


Derek's expression was priceless. It was all Sarah needed to know that she had already hit it out of the park. No, not out of the park. Scored a touchdown. That was more like it. And this was just the beginning. What was he going to look like later?

"What?" Sarah asked. "Never been served by a cheerleader before?"

"Uh, no," her husband stammered. His stare traveled from her face to her cleavage to the food tray she carried.

"Never? C'mon, high school stud like you were?"

Derek's cheeks blushed a little. "No, never been served by one. Can't say that I have."

"Did you ever date a cheerleader?"

He hesitated, maybe mulling over whether to lie or not. "Once, yeah, in high school. But that's in the past. Forget about it." He cleared his throat. "Sweetie, what an awesome surprise. You look hot as hell."

Leaning forward, she rested the tray on the coffee table in front of Derek. She leaned in low to flash him with a delicious view of cleavage. A push-up bra gave her cleavage an extra boost. He gobbled up an eyeful, and she loved it.

"Oh, so you like it?" she cooed, acting innocent.

"Love it." Eyes still glued to her chest.

She stood and pirouetted. The short pleated skirt rose up, showing off more of her smooth thighs—and firmly establishing that she wasn't wearing any panties. While the push-up bra gave her boobs a boost, going pantyless gave her an extra boost of feeling naughty. Sarah gave a high kick, and then performed a decent cartwheel on the living room's tan carpet. The cartwheel treated Derek with a sweet—but fleeting—view of her naked pussy.

He stood and clapped. A shit-eating grin splayed across his face. Proud Sarah ate up the admiration. Wonderful how she could still surprise and turn her husband on.

And she was thankful that she had chosen the cheerleader outfit over the French maid. In planning this Sunday fun, she had studied both outfits on the screen of her laptop. The website of the online costume store had plenty of sexy options.

Some of the website's costumes she would've worn to a Halloween party. Other costumes she would've worn only for her husband. Other outfits she couldn't have worn without giggling the whole time. What guy was turned on by a Little Bo Peep costume, even if it was sexed up? Different strokes for different folks, she had reasoned. Some men were thrilled by things she found positively ordinary. To each his own fetish.

Her search had narrowed to the cheerleader and French maid outfits. Surely, Derek would've melted over both of them. That was a given. But a cheerleader would've fit the occasion better.

The French maid could wait for another time. She'd have to go back and buy it. Maybe on a Saturday evening, she'd surprise him with a gourmet meal dressed as a sultry maid. Of course, she'd be dessert.

The cheerleader outfit was more traditional than the sluttier versions the website offered. Those were two pieces, much like a dressed-up bikini. They struck her as too much of strip club wear than what she was going for. She didn't want overt slut. She wanted subtle slut.

The outfit she decided on covered her tummy. The top was sleeveless, so two straps went over her shoulders. The front scooped down for a generous view of cleavage. "SEXY U" in blocky athletic letters arched just below that scoop. The pleated skirt stopped a little below her ass. The whole ensemble was mostly black, with white and hot pink details.

When the outfit arrived in the mail, she had tried it on to make sure it fit. Funny how she immediately felt comfortable in it. Her reflection in the mirror was deliciously naughty. It just felt right. She had been turned on just imagining wearing it for her husband during a football game.

Then doing wonderfully wicked things.

For some reason, a curiosity had appeared, and it wondered if Derek had ever dated a cheerleader. Sarah swore he had told her once, but she wasn't completely sure. He had been a running back in high school, so it was possible that he did date a cheerleader. She imagined Derek in high school, without the faint lines on his forehead and gray hairs here and there.

He would've worn a football jacket over his muscular back and shoulders. He would've strutted around the school, making all the girls sigh. What would he have done if he saw her, his wife to be in several years, walking toward him with her cheerleader skirt swishing over her creamy thighs?

But that was merely a fantasy. She had him now. And he had told her that he had indeed dated a cheerleader once. All she had to do was ask. His old flame from high school was long gone. In the past.

Derek dodged around the coffee table to get to her, take her in his arms, and plant a big kiss on her lips. His hands pushed up her skirt, grabbed her bare ass cheeks.

She stepped back, breaking the embrace. "Uh-uh. Hands off, big fella. You've got a game to watch."

"Fuck the game. I wanna fuck you."

"Clever use of words. But you need to eat before your food gets cold."

He hesitated, lust written all over his face. Written also on the bulge of his jeans.

"After all," Sarah said, "I cooked it for you. You wouldn't want to let me down, would you?"

His disappointment would turn around soon. He just didn't know it yet. "Okay," he said, and sat back on the couch.

Derek's disappointment over the delay of sex turned into appreciation of food as Sarah handed him the plate of a bratwurst in a bun with a yellow line of mustard down the length of it. A pile of French fries on the side. His cock had to stay hungry, yes, but his stomach didn't have to. They clinked bottles of Samuel Adams.

"To football," Sarah said and took a drink of the beer.

"No, to my hot wife." Derek drank.

"Better believe it, bud."

"And to cheerleaders." He winked and took another drink.

Her eyebrows arched, but she grinned. "Yeah, I can drink that." But, instead of taking a drink, she flicked her tongue on the underside of the bottle's tip. A few good flicks transformed Derek's face into a blank mask as he was transfixed by her tongue. "What?" she asked. "Just drinking to cheerleaders. What's not to love? Those big boobs. Those tight little butts. All bouncing around, flailing their pom-poms. "

Surely, he regretted his comment about cheerleaders now. Judging from the boyish look of getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he seemed embarrassed by his brazenness. Yet, he recovered a little by smirking, giving a little chuckle, and clinking bottles with her.

"To cheerleaders," he said. "But none of them can hold a candle to my wife."

"Liar." Sarah squinted.

Half lie or complete lie, it still sounded nice. She thought she held up pretty well against some of the cheerleaders. Yes, most of them were probably younger than her. Yes, some of them had bigger boobs. Yes, some of them had firmer butts. Even so, Sarah thought she held her own.

"Liar, huh?" Derek prodded. "Is this a lie?"

He unzipped his jeans and pulled out his hard cock.

"Look what you did to me," he said. "You and that outfit."

She smiled at his lap. His point was a good one—no denying it. This hardon had her to blame. Not any of the flesh on the TV screen.

Touching it now would not have been according to her plan. It would've been so easy to lean over and suck him off—as she had done tons of times. And enjoyed it. Giving her husband pleasure gave her pleasure. His moans. His dirty talk. His facial expressions of ecstasy. His squirming. All of it added up to the pleasure of giving him bliss.

"Put that think away," she said with a sly grin. "And eat your food. It's getting cold."

Swiftly, his disappointment was replaced with another comeback. "I better leave it out. It's so hard, it hurts when it's in my jeans. Feels much better to give it air."

He took a big bite of his bratwurst and turned his attention to the game on TV. Probably trying to distract himself from her outfit. Maybe he was mulling over whether to wolf down the bratwurst and fries to quiet her insistence to eat the food she cooked. After his food was gone, she couldn't use that excuse again. He would be free to thrust his boner in her face and demand satisfaction.

The image of him doing that nearly made her giggle. It wasn't his style. Yes, there had been times when he was more forward. Not forceful, but forward.

The closest to forceful was the time he had seized her and had her over the couch's armrest. It had happened so suddenly. He skipped his usual kiss and went straight to fucking her. Each time he pounded her pussy, her heart pounded in unison. Thrills electrified her from head to toe. Her orgasm that time was in the top ten of their relationship. Maybe even top five.

But Derek didn't wolf down his sausage and stick his dick in her face. He ate normally and watched TV. All while his member stood erect from his open zipper. It was a peculiar sight. Like a slide in a slideshow of odd scenes. Here sits a man watching football with erection.

Just another Sunday in the 'burbs.

The simple act of him eating the sausage reminded her of the funny thoughts she had while shopping in the grocery store for the Sunday meal. Holding the package of bratwurst, she was struck by the many phallic shapes around the epic known as football. Men crammed hot dogs down their gullets and sucked on long-necked beer bottles. The football itself wasn't exactly phallic, but it was more so than the sphere of a baseball.

Another piece of evidence: the players. With their tight pants and biceps bulging against their jersey sleeves. The quarterback resting his hand on the center's taint until the ball was snapped.

Football was more homoerotic than men were willing to admit to.

In the supermarket, Sarah had giggled at "taint." Who had first told her about it? Probably Jenny, with her blunt way of talking about sex. Sarah liked how unapologetic she was about sex. Ever since that conversation, Sarah had picked up Jenny's technique of lapping the taint—the stretch of skin between a man's balls and his asshole—to give breaks to Derek's dick during a blowjob.

"Taint your nuts. Taint your butthole," Jenny had said. All the women at the dinner party had erupted in laughter.

Funny term, yeah. But the reaction when she licked it wasn't laughter. Derek had loved it when Sarah lapped at his taint. How he squirmed and moaned. He also liked the few times the tip of her pinky finger tickled his asshole while she sucked him off. Though he'd never admit to enjoying it. Didn't have to. His reaction—him crying out and the volume of cum flooding into her mouth—told her all she needed to know.

Now, in the living room on the Sunday, Sarah made a mental note to not forget Derek's taint and nuts when she pulled the trigger on the oral phase of her plan. That'll make him last longer, she told herself.

On the TV screen, the cheerleaders rustled their pom-poms for the camera before commercials started.

"Sweet," Sarah clucked. "Did ya get a load of the titties on the blonde?" If only she could add a burp to her mimicking a guy's response. Not a lame little one, either. A huge one from deep in her belly that would've rattled the paintings. That would've been sweet, she thought.

Derek smirked. "Why, you wanna suck 'em?"

"You wish. Wouldn't you love to have a threesome with me and that big titty blonde. Keep dreaming, pal."

He shrugged and turned back to the TV. Smart guy didn't want to continue down that road. Could've led to zero action from his wife.

Truly, Sarah didn't mind her husband ogling the cheerleaders. They were hardly on screen. Just a gratuitous shot every now and then. Mostly before the game cut to commercials. Hardly anything.

Besides, she was granted tons more shots of the studly players. The cheerleaders' slim thighs were on for mere seconds compared with the time she got to enjoy the tight pants on the players' asses. Cheerleader cleavage shots were tiny flashes compared to the players' bulging biceps. There was much more eye candy for her than for him. Unless he enjoyed the homoeroticism.

Doubtful, though. A tickle in the butthole from your wife while she sucked your cock was one thing. Dreaming about caressing the mighty muscles of football players was far different.

The eye candy was one reason how she tolerated watching football with him. Actually, more than tolerating. Often, she found herself getting into the excitement. Especially when the score was close. Still, there was no denying that the beefy guys made her wet.

This time was no different. Eyeing up her husband's erection, mixed in with the football studs, and she was quite a moist spectator.

She also was a spectator of Derek. He patiently munched on French fries. His erection was flagging. Seemed that he had placed hopes of fucking to the sidelines so he could focus on the game.

Often he wore a contemplative look while he watched football. Was he thinking about the game? Or was he wondering over what ifs? As in, what if he had the talent to go beyond high school ball? What if he had made it to college and the pros? How different would life be?

No way would she have met and married him then. Angela would never had introduced Sarah to Derek. After all, Derek would never have had to work at Fremont Business Services. So he'd never have Angela as a co-worker.

If Derek had become a pro running back, he might've ended up with someone like that busty blonde cheerleader. Or maybe he would have not even settled down. Could've lived the high life and had any piece of ass he wanted. Threesomes aplenty!

Sarah wondered if he ever thought that far into what ifs. A while ago, she had asked him if he ever imagined becoming a pro running back.

He had simply shrugged. "Couple times I thought about it. But why go down that road? It ain't gonna happen."

Still, she doubted it was only a couple of times. There was his boyish, wistful look as he watched football. If she could peek through his ear and see his brain's thoughts, would she see a movie of him, football tucked under his right arm, dodging opponents as he hauled up the field to the touchdown?

After the victory, he would've banged the big-boobed blonde in the showers. And that brunette cheerleader would've joined in, too. That brunette who did a straight kick so high, her ankle touched her head. She couldn't have helped herself in Derek's fantasy.

"You going to eat?"

Derek's voice snapped Sarah out of her meditation over her husband's fantasies.

"All that talk about letting my food get cold," Derek said. "Bet yours is downright frozen."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll just have to warm it up."

Sarah collected her focus. She slid her bratwurst a little, so that an end of it stuck out from the bun. Her puckered lips gave a little kiss to the very tip of the sausage. Her tongue swirled around the sausage's end, gathering a bit of mustard. She made sure a drop of mustard appeared at the corner of her mouth.

Food porn.

Derek's reaction was priceless. His eyes were huge, as immense as dinner plates. His dick trembled awake. She loved how each tremble brought it a little more erect. With each quiver, blood pumped in. Soon his cock—a beautiful specimen, in her opinion—would be ready again.

She opened wide and took a big chomp of the bratwurst, the meaty taste and mustard charging into her mouth. A long pull from the Samuel Adams bottle washed it down as she put the rest of her bratwurst back on the plate.

Poor man, she thought. No need to make him suffer any longer.

She bent over and took half of his personal bratwurst in her mouth. Not all the way down. Not a quick suck. This was merely the beginning. Sarah wanted her husband to last as long as he could take it—or until her jaws got tired.

After releasing him, she fetched the mustard container and squirted a small yellow blob on the head of his cock. Her tongue swirled around the head, just as it did with the end of the sausage.

Frowning, she looked up at him. "Not as good as chocolate sauce. Remember that?"

"Huh. You think I'd forget that?

Of course he remembered. Probably remembered every time she had done it. Just as surely as he remembered the times she shot whipped cream on his member and ate it all up. Every time, he had returned the favor with the sweet condiments on her nipples and belly. Appetizers before his main entrée of pussy. To which, she thanked her lucky stars for having a husband who was so energetic in his oral thank yous.

On the couch, Sarah returned to Derek's sausage. She crouched like a cat as she gave small soft kisses all over his meat.

His exploring hand reached the end of her skirt and slid to her bare ass, over the smooth cheek, and down the crack to find her slit. His thumb suddenly found its way inside her. Twisting, pumping, rubbing. She gasped. And again a gasp when his fingers found her clitoris and massaged it.

She didn't stop him. Didn't have the will to stop this time. Raising her head, she saw his expression of delight. Delighted to watch his wife kiss his cock. Delighted to watch her face squinch from the mounting bliss. And delighted to watch as the bliss washed over her face, leaving her wide eyed and gasping.

"Naughty boy," she said after catching her breath. "You weren't supposed to do that."

"Are you complaining?"

"No. Just thankful."

She leaned in close for a deep, intimate kiss. On his lips. Truly, she was thankful. He had a wonderful—and persistent—way of making sure she got hers.

"But no more of that," she commanded. "No more. You hear?"

"Loud and clear."

"Now, let's get these off."

His jeans and boxers were quickly dispensed with. Leaving his football jersey on his torso fit with the mood, and he struck an odd image with a jersey covering his top half and a naked lap and legs. The mood was just right: his jersey, her cheerleader outfit, and football on the tube.

The coffee table was shoved to the side so Sarah could assume the position between his legs and resume kisses and licks. Long licks from the base of his shaft to the tip. Flicks on the underside of the dickhead.

Derek squirmed and groaned.

It was his G-spot. That and his taint. Without fail, tongue flicks to those two spots did the trick. Faithful switches to turn on his pleasure.

And she loved making him squirm.

After a few moments, Sarah let him go—since she didn't want to over stimulate the highly sensitive area and shift his pleasure to discomfort.

So she took him in her mouth and bobbed up and down a little. Just a little. Her ponytail wiggled. It felt fun, like she was actually a cheerleader. Then she held him motionless so she could appreciate his girth and taste his meat and let him feel her mouth's warmth enveloping him.

She slowly backed away, with inch by inch of him reappearing out of her mouth. Then a soft stroking with her loose fist barely grazing his skin. Then fingertips dancing over his shaft. Then kisses mixed in, here and there.

This was a view Sarah adored. Derek's cock was a thing of beauty to her. The phrase "bumping uglies" made no sense to her, since she had marveled over dicks ever since seeing her first one back in high school. Derek's was the one she was most familiar with, and that wasn't going to ever change. Countless times she had touched his member, savored its bulk and taste. Every fraction of inch she knew intimately.

Of all of his seven inches.

The curving blue lines of veins were like roads on a map she knew by heart. She had traced the two bigger veins that bulged along the top of the rod. She had explored the entire bumpy surface with her fingers and tongue. She had watched creamy streams of cum flow down the pink tower. Then slurped them up.

The top especially fascinated her. There was the wrinkled band that encircled his shaft just below the head. Slightly darker than the rest of the shaft below it. Above it, the ridge rose to the glans.

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byAugustMacGregor© 5 comments/ 51627 views/ 17 favorites

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