Round and Round in St. Helena

After I took one last lick, and reluctantly worked my way up from between her thighs, I settled down next to my wife. I hadn't quite caught my breath yet and though eyes were closed, I felt her turn to kiss my neck and whisper, "You smell like pussy."

"Mmmm", I murmured, "Taste like it too."

"Like that taste, do you?"

"Baby, you know I do."

"Just how much...," she continued, as I felt her hand slide into the hair at the root of my cock. She tugged at the curls there for only a moment before slipping further down to gather, and then fully cup my balls in her hand, lifting and stretching them out in the same motion.

"Mmmm," she murmured, "Look what I found."

She held them tight and stretched them again. "You know how much I love how they fill my hand, don't you?"

"Unhhh..." was all that seemed necessary.

After another long squeeze, she let them fall from her hand and I felt a finger nail run up the underside of my cock. She scribed a circle around the taut head and then I was blessed with the firm grip of her hand around the shaft, pumping slowly; more than a bit of tease. After a dozen slow strokes her palm slipped over the head and I felt my cock throb with the anticipation of a hand job. Perhaps I'd even get one of her nasty stories to go along with it.

"Oh, honey...," she breathed in my ear, "... you are so nice and wet. I love when you ooze like this. You must have been dripping all the time you were lapping at my clit. I like the idea of that...a lot."

"Hmmm..."

"I can just imagine your thick cock trapped between your belly and the sheets. Imagine it oozing there, with your balls snugged on either side as you lick me open. I love how you tease my lips apart...god, love that. You are sooo good with your tongue; the way you start so slowly; never in a hurry."

By now my eyes were closed, and I felt her tits graze my belly as she slid a bit lower, and I settled back waiting to see if I would get the tongue-up-the-length-of-me, or whether tonight it would be ring-the-crown before she took me, inch by inch, into the warmth of her mouth.

"You're not in hurry tonight...right honey?'

As my mind scrambled to anticipate where this was going, I felt both of her hands on me now, one gripping my balls again and the other pumping me slowly up and down. Then, as my breath began to quicken, and settled into the rhythm, I felt a fingernail smack sharply on the head of cock, just to the side of the crown above the ridge, close to the spot where I am the most sensitive.

"I think that's all you get tonight honey." she stated flatly. "You need to conserve yourself for later."

"But...", I protested.

All I got in reply was another sharp fingernail snap on the other side of the head. She dropped my balls and slid back up, her lips once again next to my ear. Once she settled in, she announced in soft voice, "I have a present for you. I have been doing what you might call research, and I think I've found the anniversary gift for the man who has everything. But you are going to have to wait. I hope you didn't have any plans for next Friday night. Well maybe Saturday too, we'll see. Because...well, let's just say, you have other plans now."

Growing more confident in her tone, she continued, "Now here's how this will work. If I need you before then, well, you'll just service me with your tongue, so don't expect any attention from me in response. I can't stop you handling yourself, but you'll find that I have hidden your meds, so it won't be anywhere as nice as if you just do what I say."

Well, what was a man to do? So, I just smiled and said, "Sure, honey whatever you say."

Those "meds" mentioned a few sentences back were the consequences of a close and intense brush with advanced prostate cancer. After three years of missed diagnosis, I eventually fought my way to a specialist who laid it out neatly.

"The news is not good. With Gleason scores like these you have only a couple of options. You can do nothing, let it spread and die in about three to five years, or we can schedule an appointment for me to operate."

Obviously not much of a choice, but he did save my life. He also left me unable to develop a full erection no matter which magic pill I swallowed and regardless of how my wife and I took on the challenge. The saving grace, itself a mixed blessing, was direct injection. Yep, but it routinely gave me an erection that lasted hours. Really...for hours.

Its common knowledge that a man thinks about sex every twenty minutes of the day so you can just imagine where my mind went during the following week. Whenever I tried to get a hint from her, all I got in return was a sly smile and a variation on, "Be patient and behave yourself. You'll see soon enough."

I did get to enjoy a lap between her legs once or twice in the time between the promise and the approaching week end, but true to her warning, all I got was that delicious salty sweet reward at the very end when she came in mouth. No stories, no warm mouth on my cock, just, "Oh, that was soooo sweet. You are the best...night honey, I love you."

I did my best to stay focused on the orchids, the drip system and whatever else came up on the appointed Friday, but it was clear by now that I wasn't going to get more than a self-satisfied smile if I asked for any clue at all. Of course my mind roamed through the possibilities. My recovering catholic wife could get nasty minded if she let herself, though it was a very rare thing and I had learned by now not to get too wound up when she teased me a bit and then said "Not now, honey, later."

Often that "later" never happened, as if she had forgotten all about it. So I was doing my best with my errant thoughts when late in the hot afternoon she ducked in the back door and cried out, " OK, we need to drive away in 2 hrs. We'll be gone overnight. I'll handle the packing...all of it. You just be ready to go."

She slipped back outside and left me unsure of my next move. She was always late, so I knew I had no reason to think we'd actually leave in 2 hrs. I was intrigued about the "overnight" but also disappointed, as I would have been thrilled just to have come into the bedroom at some point and found her lying on the bed, naked and sweaty from the garden with her legs apart, knees spread, pointing down to her pussy with a smile on her lips. Needless to say at this point, after a week of tastes and tease, I was ready for anything. I figured it was a good bet that if we are "going away", a shower was a good idea and when I came out of the bathroom I found she has laid a pair of tan slacks, black dress shirt, with a pair of my briefs in a neat pile on the bed; choice of shoes was apparently up to me.

As I dressed I heard her puttering about in the front bathroom. After quick beard trim, I went to check up on her only to find the door closed and a carryon zipped and ready in the hall way. All too many minutes later she emerged sparkly and bright dressed in a flower print skirt that flared nicely from her waist, topped by a light blue blouse; her best color. Finally noticing that I was waiting, she just breezed by me with, "OK, honey. Grab that bag, lock the front door and, let's go. I'm driving."

Driving me a bit crazy was more like it as she smelled of fresh soap and rose water with a musky undertone that was a new one for me. At that point it occurred to me that she had been prepping for today in more ways than I would have guessed; I was happy to lock up and follow her out to the car.

She drove east, over the hill toward Calistoga, didn't turn at the light into town but continued on toward St. Helena. She wasn't saying much, just driving along with a bemused and self-satisfied smile on her face. I was doing the best I could to make small talk but I was all too seriously wrapped up in where-the-hell-are-we-going? She can be a hesitant driver at times, but she seemed sure of the turns and the thought crossed my mind that this was not the first time she'd been to wherever we were headed. We had long since left the highway and while not off on some raggedy dirt road, we were most definitely in the hills above town. We drove past more than few driveways with ornate gates closed to the road, but big enough to drive a bus through. No doublewides up here, we were in the land of hill top palazzos. She slowed and then turned into a drive where the gate was actually open. "Here we are, finally. Some driveway, huh? Hope you are hungry."

Hungry? I thought, honey you have no idea. I had been waiting for this for a week and whatever lay up the drive I knew it was not a dinner and movie. The drive circled up to the front of a stone and stucco building, slung in a single story and straddling a small ridge. With its red tile roof, the place looked like it has been beamed directly from Provence and set here among the oaks as either a movie set, or more likely, an attempt to recreate the feel of the south of France. The wisteria that clung to the front entry was in its second bloom; soaking up the sun, the lacey purple sprays in perfect complement to the pale yellow of the walls.

It took me a moment to take in the scene of what could easily have been an Airbnb, as I saw no one around and not a car in sight. My wife, on the other hand, slipped right out of the car, grabbed the carryon from the back seat and was halfway up the few steps to the door, before I freed myself from my seat belt and followed after her. By the time I reached the top step, she had already rung the bell. I could hear the chime inside the house, and my Airbnb fantasy evaporated when, after a short pause and the tap of shoes just inside, the door was opened wide by a trim woman in her mid-thirties, brunette, long white skirt, with slightly longer legs, large chest, not well restrained; actually not restrained at all, as it was obvious that she wore no bra under the cream colored lace top. The dark dots of her nipples held my attention and I only registered bits of the exchange between the two women.

"Oh, yes...yes, expecting you of course...no...I'll see to that...just follow me through."

I was happy to lag a bit behind and watch the sway of our host's hips as she led us to the left of the entry hall and toward what seemed to be toward the back of the building. I'd given up trying to sort out whatever plan my wife had arranged, and I just amused myself by noticing that what I took as a long skirt on the woman were merely two cloth panels, secured at her belt and open along the sides so that the panels parted with each step, exposing her legs from her black heels up to her upper thighs. The carryon had been left behind, so I assumed we were here for the night but we had yet to pass a front desk, nor had any formality of check in been mentioned.

"Your table is ready." She announced over the shoulder. "I'll be sure that your bag gets to your room. Carlos will take you on into the dining room." With that, she gestured to her left, then turned abruptly and strode past us both, giving me a quick wink as she passed.

"This way, please." said the deeply tanned young man who I took to be Carlos, since he strode ahead of us without a backward glance. Even I couldn't miss his tightly muscled butt trapped in his black pants; I was sure my wife was taking in the view with great pleasure. His pants seemed almost molded to him so that each cheek was deftly encased by the fabric. I only had a moment to wonder how those pants fit in the front before he abruptly stopped, turned and gestured to where a small table was fully set next to a window over looking the valley. Still trailing behind my wife, I simultaneously took in the expansive view to the hills bathed in early evening glow and watched her hand brush down the side of his butt as she passed. Carlos gave a small smile, but otherwise seemed unfazed.

He deftly pulled a chair from the table, gestured toward and then sat my wife, leaving me to take my own seat. As I sat and slid the chair up to the table I watched him snap open a napkin and place in my wife's lap, smoothly it against her thighs with a practiced motion.

'What..." I started to ask, but the rest was cut short by the appearance of a young coming toward us and exchanging glances with Carlos as they passed. She was also dressed in slacks, but hers were a brilliant white and fit her as if they had been spray painted on her body from her waist down to upper thigh, but fell from there straight down to wide flares at her ankles. My eyes couldn't help taking in how the seam between her legs parted the lips of her obviously plump pussy in a defined crease that was framed on either side into a nicely shaped V. The slacks were low cut and offered an expanse of pure white flesh that rose to her chest, which was only partially covered by a form fitting black vest whose top was only a pair of small half cups that cradled her moderate sized tits more than covered them. Her belly button was a small white shell that just begged to be kissed.

She first offered my wife a menu, leaning down to whisper a brief comment in her ear. The rounded tops of her tits held my eyes a bit too long and she cleared her throat with, "Ah, sir?...your menu."

I let my eyes roam the menu until she turned to leave us, but took the opportunity to notice that no panty line was obvious, nor was there the slightest hint of the top of a thong at the small of her back. I licked my lips at the thought, and attempted to focus on the menu, but she had returned quickly with dirty martini for my wife and what smelled very much a nice peaty scotch, one small ice cube, for me. I had either missed the exchange between her and my wife, or somehow, she had advanced notice our preferred drinks. She slipped a drink in front of each of us without a word and left the room.

"Well," I said with a sigh, "This is certainly nice. Salud, my amor."

"Yes, honey, but just plain nice is not the word I would be using about now." my wife responded with a sly look.

A few minutes later the waitress appeared once again, stood beside my chair and asked "Have you found anything you like to have this evening, sir?", with only the most demur of smiles at the corners of her mouth.

My wife spoke up before I could reply and asked for the lamb. I followed with a question about how the tuna was being prepared. "Just a quick sear, sir." She replied. "So that you with find it soft and pink in the center."

My wife deflected all my attempts to get a better picture of the place, so I resigned myself to the evening with a wonder at what she was up to, here so far from home. Plates came and went but when I asked for a second glass of wine my wife shook her head and said, "Oh, no...trust me, you will want to stay clear headed honey." Dinner was followed by only a bit of fresh fruit, a tidy cheese plate and a small strong coffee for desert. When I nodded to the waitress and gestured for the check, she slipped over to the table, and ignoring me, addressed my wife instead. "Shall I show you to your room now?"

I had the great pleasure of following her out of the dining room to the rise and fall of her cheeks beneath her pants as she leaded us back through the entry foyer, down a short hall, and slipped a key card to open a door, stood aside and waved us into a small suite furnished with a few comfortable looking chairs and a couch midway in the room, facing the opposite wall. The furniture was arranged in a wide arc but was oddly placed cloer to the wall than seemed right, but I was much more interested in the edge of the bed that I could see through the half open doorway to my left. Paying virtually no attention to me, my wife walked past me carrying our bag that she had retrieved from the corner of the room just instead the door. She tossed it on the bed and then glanced into what I assumed was the adjoining bathroom. She reached into the bag and took out a zippered toiletries bag, and wordlessly gestured for me to come to her.

I happily joined her by the bed, but she only handed me the bag, lifted her head toward the bathroom door and said, "It's time. Honey." I gave the bag a quick glance, and she nudged me forward and said, "Everything you'll need is there. I'll be ready when you are."

Once I closed the door and looked inside all I could see a fold a black material that when shaken out, proved to be thin black robe. Below that in the bag, another smaller yet, padded and cool. When I unzip it I found a syringe filled and capped.

"Yes! Happy Anniversary to me!"

To savor the moment, I undressed with as little haste as I could manage, carefully folding my clothes and tucked my socks neatly into my shoes. It's never pleasant to use the syringe, but with a deep breath and plunge I felt first the sting, and then the warm throb of the liquid going to work. By the time I sorted out the arms of the robe, my cock was beginning to swell and I had to adjust the robe a bit to keep from poking out the opening. The hem was only to mid-thigh, but I assumed it would be out of it soon anyhow as all the while, I was thinking," Hmmm, will I find her out stretched on the bed in one of those tight clinging tops, with her nipples half hard and beckoning? Or has she brought something new for me to peel away?"

When I opened the door, I was crestfallen not to find her on the bed, in fact, not even in the bedroom, but back in the living room, still fully dressed in one of the chairs, fussing with a small water pipe on the table between the chair and the couch. "Hi, honey," she tossed my way, as she lit a candle next to the pipe. As she rose to walk toward the light switch, it was only then that I realized that the wall before the couch was gone and another smaller, deeply darkened room opened where the wall once stood. I had only a moment to try to sort that out before the room lights went out and only the flickering light from the candle danced in the room.

My wife returned to the chairs and invited me with, 'Sit here, sweetie, try some of this." as she held the. By now my cock was fully hardened and had tented the robe. I certainly didn't need any more encouragement, but the idea of a buzz and the extra sensitive feeling that that brings caused a small high breath in my chest and I settled into a chair and accepted the pipe. The first toke was sweet, and then we shared second, but when I handed the pipe back to her for a third she was already beginning to lift herself from the chair. She stepped over, knelt down in front of me and open my legs with both hands. One reached under the robe and cupped my balls, a treat I haven't felt for a week. Meanwhile the other pulled the robe ties and tugged it open. The cool silken material slid down across my thighs leaving my throbbing cock fully exposed. Using my balls as a grip she gently swung my cock in a small tight circle, all the while running the tip of her tongue along her lips and staring down at me. As her head finally dipped to my lap, I settled my own head back against the chair and luxuriated in the intense first touch of a wet tongue licking the clear drops of pre-cum from the head of my cock. I could barely stand the waiting for that initial slurp into her mouth as her tongue slipped down and licked up the shaft. But instead of that delicious moment of engulfment by a warm mouth, I was startled by a sharp bite that momentarily stung the ridge of skin that runs down the shaft from the cleft on the underside, "Patience, patience.," she whispered into the matt of hair as her head mouth moved back down and lower still.

Even in anticipation of what was next, my attention was caught by a slight change in the light and when I lifted my head from the back of the chair I could see that a dim spot light now shone down from the ceiling of the room beyond where the wall used to be. At the same time my wife had worked her head to my crotch and had begun to slowly lick the inside of thighs, ending each stroke with the wet flat of her tongue at the side of the sac that holds my balls.