Husband’s Wish Fulfilled


"Yes, please, coffee," he told me, "definitely coffee in the morning." He paused. "I'd like to take you out to breakfast."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," I told him, fetching the coffee and tea. "Too many prying eyes, I think."

I brewed a pot of coffee, and boiled water for my tea. When it was done, I started making breakfast, and he smiled. I was glad I could make him comfortable. It was late morning already; we would have slept later except that I had sucked him awake. He was looking out the window at the property.

"That's some view," he commented as I spooned the scrambled eggs onto plates. We have a large window at the back of the kitchen, overlooking our property. From the table you look out over a field, bordered by trees, with mountains in the background. "Is all that yours?"

"Not the mountains," I kidded, "but pretty much everything else you can see." I brought the eggs to the table and sat next to him, looking out. It's one of my favorite pastimes, and sharing it with him felt more personal than sex. I got a warm tingle through me. "We can go walk around after breakfast, I can show you around."

"That sounds nice, I'd like that." We finished breakfast in silence, and got the rest of our clothes on to go outside. I wore denims and a tank top, without a bra. My husband likes me braless; he says I look sexy, and now I wanted to look sexy for Duncan.

We walked the property for a few hours, enjoying holding hands and being together. It was a beautiful, clear September day, just a hint of changing colors, warm in the sun, and cool under the trees. There are trails and roads through the property, and we walked slowly, enjoying the foliage. As we went out, I sensed a little rising unease in him, even though my husband was away and he knew it.

"I want you to know," I started as we walked, "that I'm okay with this."

"Just okay?" he asked, grinning. "I'm a little better than that." I grinned sheepishly, a little embarrassed at the compliment.

"That's not what I meant," I said playfully, "and you know it." I squeezed his arm as we walked. "And yes, it was a lot better than okay." I took a breath, unsure of how much to say. I felt like I wanted to spill everything to this man, my new lover, to tell him about me as completely as I had given myself sexually. For some reason this felt more difficult, more exposing. I steeled myself and began again. "But I wanted you to know that I don't do this."

"You don't walk in the woods on your own property?" he chided, "or you don't have sex?"

"Stop it," I pleaded, "please don't joke, this is important, and it's hard for me."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "Go ahead, I won't interrupt."

I had to take a few breaths before starting again. "I've never done this before. Bringing someone home. When my husband is away." My voice was a little squeaky and thin from my nervousness. Why was I afraid, I thought. I'd already had sex with him, he was warm, and inviting, and handsome and caring. Was I afraid he'd reject me? Afraid of telling too much, scaring him away? What we'd shared had been so wonderful, so fulfilling and exciting and rewarding and delicious – I wanted more, I wanted it to continue. To be more than sex, to be a – boyfriend? I pushed the fears back into my head and screwed up my courage.

"I don't bring men home. You are my very first. This is the only time I've ever done this, in fact." I swallowed, braced myself. "Actually, you're only the second man I've ever had sex with." There, it was out. "My husband was my first, and before last night I had only ever done it with him." Now that I had started, the words began spilling out on their own, as if floodgates had opened, and I let it go. "We've been married for ten years, and I told you, he's away a lot, so I'm alone a lot, you know, and he's been, well, encouraging me to, you know, do something, something like this, for a while now." I took a breath; I felt like I was blabbering, and tried to slow down. "Because he's away, and he leaves me alone. He's okay with it, I guess I'm trying to say, you don't have to worry, it was his idea originally, he's okay with it, and I'm okay with it." I waited for a reaction, but he let me talk. "I mean, it's was my idea, last night, don't get me wrong, that was all me," I continued, unable now to stop myself. "I didn't do it for him, I did it because I wanted to, because I wanted you." I blushed with my confession, and I felt my nipples harden under my tank top. If he looked he'd see them poking out. God, I felt almost naked, physically and emotionally. "But I wanted you to know that he's okay with it, that he won't be jealous or crazed and come hunting you, or anything." He looked sideways at me, and he was smiling a little. He stopped walking and turned to me.

"Are you trying to put me at ease, Brenda?"

I tried foolishly to hide my embarrassment, and ended up feeling again like a schoolgirl, explaining how I had confessed to a boy that I liked him. But I was explaining that he need not be concerned about my husband's reaction to having sex with me. And I wanted him to be comfortable, because I didn't want him to leave.

"Well, yes, I guess, a little," I stammered. "I just want you to know that he's not coming home, and that you don't need to feel any, I don't know, regrets."

"Regrets?" he asked, taking me by the shoulders. "Not likely."

I smiled again, and felt my nipples harden more. I wondered if he saw them, and thinking there was no way he couldn't notice. "Maybe regret was too strong a word, then," I smiled. "But I wouldn't want you second-guessing, or worrying." I looked up at him, and his green eyes were drilling into me, and I melted a little. My nipples were aching now. "He won't be upset. He wanted me to do it." I felt I was over-explaining, and shut my mouth. He leaned down to my face and kissed me lightly.

"And you? Did you want to?"

"You know I did."

"Yes," he said, looking into my eyes. His gaze darted to my chest, and I know he saw my hard nipples poking through my shirt. "I know you wanted to. And I'm glad."

I threw my arms around him and hugged him to me, feeling his strong, sexy body pressed against me. "And when we get back," I said into his chest, "I want to again." He held me then, just the two of us in the woods, together, surrounded by the foliage and the birds, and our attraction to each other.

"I think I can stay a little while longer," he said above my head. I felt his breath in my hair. "But I have to go later. I was supposed to meet my friend last night," he said, and lifted my chin to look at him. "But I got distracted. I really should call him." I felt him chuckle as he held me, and I loved the feel of him.

"When we get back to the house, yeah?" I asked. "Will he be angry?"

"I think he'll understand." I smacked his chest lightly, and left my hand there, feeling his chest though his shirt. He kissed me again, and we headed back to the house.

He called when he got in, and I stood next to him as they talked. He was explaining that he would be late, was already late. I was smiling at him, feeling erotic and playful and mischievous. I leaned into him as he talked.

"No, no problem, it's all right," he told his friend. I began rubbing the front of his pants as he spoke, and he tried to twist away. "No, no, just-," he tried to move my hand with his free one, but I pulled free and rubbed him. "No, something came up." He grinned at me past the phone. I grinned back, and felt him getting larger. I stifled a giggle unsuccessfully. "Yeah, something like that," he managed as I continued stroking his growing member in his pants. It looked like it was getting tight in there, and he stumbled through the rest of his conversation, and hung up.

"You," he said, grabbing me and wrapping me in his arms, my back against him, and laughing carelessly. "You are trouble." He kissed my neck, and I pressed my butt back into him.

"Are you looking for trouble?" I asked.

"I already found her," he said, and turned me effortlessly, and kissed me, and we went back upstairs, this time Duncan leading me.

When we entered the bedroom Duncan reached for me, and pulled my tank top up over my head, tossing it to the side. I loved that he took control like that, and my pussy tingled, getting wet instantly. I stood there with my breasts exposed, my nipples still hard with my arousal. He gazed at them, and then reached for them, stroking them, tenderly caressing the sides, with both hands.

"I love your breasts," he said. He didn't call them tits. His hands cupped both of them, holding them, squeezing them firmly, but not roughly, feeling wonderful on me. A little hard; eager, not coarse. He slipped them off, brushing my nipples as his hands moved. My nipples were so sensitive from being erect all day, and tingles ran from my chest to my pussy. He took both of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed, lightly, then harder, pulling them out, elongating them, making then harder and sending bolts of pleasure through me. I gasped at the sensations and my knees wobbled a little and I groaned. I stepped into him, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him backwards to the bed, dragging him on top of me.

He slipped his body down, undid my pants and pulled them off me with my panties, leaving me naked while he was still dressed. He moved down between my legs, and I braced for the feel of his tongue, spreading my legs. But he didn't lick me, his hands went back up to my breasts, toying with my nipples, teasing and stimulating me. He was controlling my pleasure, determining the pace and intensity. Having him take the lead excited me more and my pussy clenched and dripped with desire.

"Show me," he said, "show me how wet you are." I spread my legs for him and he looked more closely at me. I felt exposed and a little embarrassed, but wanted to follow his lead. He reached up and took my hands. "No," he said, not angrily but sternly, letting me know he would not brook a refusal. "Show me," he repeated, placing my hands at my pussy. "Show me how wet you are." He was looking into my face as he said it, but looked at my hands as he guided them between my legs and released them. I watched his face as I placed my hands on my wet lips and spread them for him, wanting inside for him to like what he saw, to be pleased with my excitement.

"I want to taste you," he said, and I thought again that he would lick me, but he moved one hand to the entrance of my dripping hole. "I want you to give me a taste." He didn't look at me, just watched my hands moving. I used my free hand to hold myself open and touched a finger to my opening, feeling the slick syrupy juices that pool at the opening between my lips, swirling them, teasing myself, and then raised it to him, offering my flavor to him. He opened his mouth and took the fingertip inside, sucking it clean, then pulled it out and returned it to my hole. "Inside this time," he said quietly, but without restraint, and I complied, slipping my finger inside me, slowly, pushing it all the way, watching his face as I inserted it. I had a twinge of self-consciousness, but pushed it aside, wanting him to see me, wanting to share this most private activity. I felt my juices rush out to me, coating my finger, feeling the heat inside me, and imagining how it would feel on his cock, to feel that heat, that slick wetness, and my pussy reacted, clenching my finger. When it was all the way in I pushed harder, wanting now for him to see me finger myself, to show him that I wanted to do what he wanted, to show him how I wanted to be naughty for him. I groaned as my finger pressed deeper and my knuckles pressed against my clit.

I slipped it out then, offering it to him, my gift to him; a taste of my excitement, taken from me by me, for him to enjoy, He sucked it greedily, swirling his tongue around my finger, extracting all of my flavor, and then returning it to my waiting pussy.

"Two this time," he told me, and my index finger joined the middle one, and I pushed them both deeply inside, quickly, feeling the penetration, wanting it to be him, but waiting for him to want to do it to me, substituting my own hand for what I wanted to feel from him. I was hot, and fingered myself forcefully, grunting as my fingers pumped in and out of my wet hole for him. I moved my other hand, releasing my labia, and slid them to my clit, massaging my hard button as I fingered my wet hole. I felt my orgasm begin to hint at me, letting me know it would be there soon. I offered him my fingers again, and teased my clit as he sucked them clean and returned them.

I was lost in the moment now, playing with myself for me as much as for him, the thrill of him watching me making me more excited as I brought myself closer to orgasm. Several more times I offered him my fingers, and each time he sucked my juices from me, until the last time, when he took my wrist and brought my hand to my face. Knowing what he wanted I opened my mouth and accepted it, tasting myself on my fingers the way I had tasted them on his cock, but just me, now. In all the times I had ever masturbated I had never tasted myself, never been tempted, but I sucked my fingers greedily as he watched, and I liked it, liked tasting myself. It was a little tangy and musky and I felt like a naughty, dirty girl, and my fingers rubbed furiously on my clit, and I came, hard, as he teased my nipples. I groaned around the fingers in my mouth, noticing the scent of my passion in my nostrils, the slight tangy flavor in my mouth, then forgetting them for my fingers at my clit, his fingers on my nipples, and my glorious explosion.

Then he was kissing me, and my fingers slipped from my mouth, stroking his face and his lips where they met mine. Our tongues shared my flavor, and I liked it, liked that he liked it. He pulled back, sitting back on his feet; my orgasm receded, but my hand still at my clit, rubbing lightly.

"That was very nice," he told me, and began undressing. "I like to watch you cum." As he pulled his pants off I saw that he had liked it a lot, he was hard and full and the head of his cock was slightly red, almost angry, and I wanted him inside me desperately. Naked, he kissed me again, and then told me to roll over. I did, my face in the sheets, and he got behind me and I felt his hands at my hips, pulling them up, exposing my pussy and ass to him. I felt even more exposed than when I fingered myself, and my body reacted, my desire welling up, wanting to be exposed to him, wanting him to see me as his, ready for him, wanting him. I wanted him to take me, hard and strong, to make me his.

My head was down and I felt his hands, his wonderful fingers, exploring me, caressing the backs of my thighs, my wet pussy, my ass, gliding smoothly across my bare cheeks. He ran a finger down my crack, across my back hole, teasing me, and then down to my pussy, just touching my clit. He teased it for a second, making me squirm with delight, and then trailed it back up, between my lips, touching my opening, and then back up my crack to my tight anus. I felt his hands on my butt cheeks, pressing, spreading them, and then hot breath, and suddenly his tongue, down my crack, settling on my tight star. Chills went through me as his tongue teased the outside of my back door, sending shockwaves to my pussy and making my nipples hard as rocks. I had never had my ass licked before, but I was sexed and horny and doing whatever he wanted, and Damn! It felt incredible! I sensed my orgasm building, and wondered if I could cum from having my ass licked.

I had tried anal sex a few times with my husband, but it was something I tolerated; I didn't really like it. But his tongue felt so good, and I wondered if he would want to do my ass, and I started thinking, as delicious as his tongue felt on my little ring of muscle, that this might ruin everything. What I really wanted was his big hard cock in my pussy, and I told him to stop, and he did, giving my cheeks a squeeze and pulling away.

His hands never left my ass; he must have lined himself up using only his hips, and I felt his spongy head push into my open pussy, resting there, my orgasm poised to pounce, and he drove fully into me in one stroke and I came, hard, my breath whooshing out as he filled me, and my body stiffened and I fell flat on the bed, pulling off his wonderful shaft. As soon as I could breath I cried out with the crest of my orgasm, shaking as it receded and calmed.

"Wow," he said. "That was amazing. Do you always cum that fast?"

I struggled for breath and looked back at him over my shoulder. He was grinning, and his hard, beautiful cock was glistening with my juice. I wanted to suck it, but only said. "Not that quickly," and smiled, adding. "I told you I orgasm easily, but not that fast." And then I grinned back. "Or that hard."

He gave me another few seconds, and then pulled me back up to my knees, pushing my knees apart with his, exposing me for his pleasure. I felt completely submissive, and incredibly hot, and then he pushed himself back into me, filling my hot hole with his thick shaft, touching every inch of my wet tunnel, bumping at the back wall. His hands wandered over my ass cheeks as he stroked in and out of me, leaving me empty and hollow and needy every time he pulled back. And every delicious time he pushed back in, I felt obedient and fulfilled and desired and loved. His fingers drifted to my crack, settling at my ass as he stroked, and I let him now, enjoying the sensations coupled with his strokes. His cock rubbed the walls of my pussy, and his fingertips stroked my tight back hole. He pushed his cock harder, and I felt him press his finger at my anus. I was grunting with the pounding in my pussy, and felt another orgasm building. His finger felt so good on my ass, so strange, so new, and I felt my ass relax and found myself pushing my hips up to the pressure of his finger. I thought then that if he wanted to take my ass, I would let him, want him, enjoy him. I wanted him to push his finger in, God, how I wanted it, to feel his finger in my ass while he pounded my wet pussy!

My orgasm was building stronger now, my slick walls clenching at his cock, my ass pushing back, and my tight rear hole relaxing, opening, wanting him in both my holes. His strokes picked up their pace, faster and harder, and I knew he was close. The tremors began in my toes and hands, travelling to my stomach and chest, and right before I exploded he pushed his finger into my ass, and I came, hard and wet, crying out my ecstasy as his finger entered me fully, and then his cock pressed fully into me, shooting his cum, splashing my insides, filling me with his hot load, feeling him pulse as I clenched his finger and cock in my spasms. My pussy flooded, and cum oozed out past his shaft, down my legs as he took several more slow strokes, and eased himself from my sated pussy.

As he slipped out I felt his hot juices flow out of me, and I looked under me, between my breasts to see several fat globs drip out of me. The phrase 'felt like he came a gallon" seemed an understatement. For some reason I thought of the mess it would leave on the sheets, but I was distracted as he came to the side of me, offering me his softening member. Still on my hands and knees, I opened my mouth and took him in, sucking his cum and mine from his shaft, relishing the delicious flavor of our passion. I sucked him as deep as I could, cleaning off his wonderful cock, and sucking and licking the rest of his shaft with my lips and tongue, cooing and moaning.

And then suddenly his cock pulled away and his face was next to mine, and he kissed me, sharing the remnants of our juices in a deep, passionate kiss. As I said, my husband never kisses me after I suck him, but Duncan seemed to like it, at least as much as he liked having me suck him after cumming inside me. I reached a hand to his neck, and held his face to mine, enjoying our wet, messy kiss, an enjoying him for wanting it.

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bytoomuchinmyhead© 52 comments/ 155697 views/ 57 favorites

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