0 comments/ 97939 views/ 10 favorites The Ultimate Wife By: JennK My name is Jennifer (Jen for short), and my hubby thinks I'm the ultimate wife. We started dating in high school and have been together ever since. Some might think one or both of us would have strayed sometime in our 20-year marriage, but I can assure you that's not the case. Here's why: First of all, let me describe myself. I'm 41 years old, but you wouldn't know it by looking at me. I have shoulder-length dark auburn hair, green eyes and smooth olive skin with a few freckles here and there. I stand 5'6" in my bare feet and have a nice and fleshy hourglass shape. I suppose what grabs the attention of most men is my rack. Nursing two children gave me a pair of 40DD breasts, and I'm very proud of them. Unfortunately, they hurt if I leave them unsupported, so I usually wear a full cup bra. My hubby is a 6'5" warrior god, with golden hair and blue eyes. He can still make me melt with a glance, especially when his 7.5" penis is on display. We started out in high school as typical horny teenagers, rutting like rabbits every day (back then I was just your average 36C). But as much as I loved regular intercourse with him, I discovered I really liked to have him on display and at my mercy. Nothing sadistic, mind you, but more of a loving, maternal type of thing. Every day after school, we'd head home to my parents' house and have a couple hours to play before they got home. I would always begin by pushing him against my bedroom door and assaulting his mouth sensuously with my tongue. Simultaneously, I'd be undoing his trousers. Of course he never complained, nor did he make a fuss that I wasn't also getting naked. Within seconds, he was stripped from the waist down, and his beautiful naked penis and balls were displayed before me. He was usually fully erect by this time, and I would spend the next half hour just fondling and playing with my boyfriend's marvelous package. Sometimes I would end up sucking his cock until he came in my mouth, dutifully swallowing it down, but mostly I loved to watch it spray in my hands, so a sensual handjob with lotion was what happened most. Only after making my boyfriend cum with my hands or mouth would I then get undressed and mount him for a proper fucking. But even during my period or on days when I wasn't feeling like regular sex, I would always strip his trousers and underwear off and have my fun. On days when we didn't fuck, I would make him cum once, then just hold his throbbing, spent penis in my hand, adoring him, complimenting him. I learned then what a thrill it is to have your man completely vulnerable and trusting, and I made my mind up that I would do everything I could to have that feeling as often as possible, and that I would never betray that trust. In those days, he rarely stayed soft for long, especially with my attentions. When he was hard again, I would let him know we wouldn't be having any intercourse, but I would make it up to him by making him ejaculate two more times. I always cleaned him thoroughly before zipping him up and sending him home, and he always left happy, satisfied and head over heels in love. We stayed together, attending the same college and moving out together. I found I could easily entice my boyfriend into his nudity around the apartment while still remaining clothed, and he never complained... not when his penis was getting such a workout! I began to make certain discoveries about technique and attitude, and found that although my guy was a total alpha male, he completely deferred to his mate (me) when it came to his sexual activities. One night as I was stroking his cock, sitting before him fully clothed with his hips elevated on my lap (my favorite position for slow handjobs), he confided in me that the reason he let me do all this stuff to him was because I was always loving and caring, never mean or demanding. That I always built up his confidence and he trusted me fully. He put his penis and balls completely in my hands – literally. I thought that was so sweet that I milked three orgasms out of his cock. When I was done, my scoop-neck T-shirt was plastered with stripes of semen. We were married shortly after college, and experimented with every position and sexual technique in the book, but we always came back to a few standards. I loved intercourse with my hubby (and still do), but I got such a high from having his genitals on display and in my control. I learned the many benefits of oral or manual release for a guy: it relieved stress; frequent ejaculation is good for the prostate; hormonal buildup never caused him to be cranky; and he always was able to interact with a clear mind. The other thing I came to realize had to do with the biology of my hubby's penis. Like most boys from his generation, hubby was circumcised at birth. Since I'd only known cut penises (seeing boys growing up, babysitting and just a few before hubby), I didn't think much about it. But when I got pregnant with our first son, I began to do some research and what I found shocked me. I imagined my clitoral hood being removed, then the clit itself being as big as the head of a penis, then put at the end of a fleshy stalk of nerves. Always rubbing against underwear, in contact with detergents, constantly under stimulation just from normal movement... totally exposed and vulnerable. I remember feeling a sudden wave of maternal sympathy for my hubby, swore I would never do that to any son of mine, and pledged to take care of hubby's penis even better than I had been. After that, as often as we could manage it, I would have his penis and testicles out of his clothing in order to swing freely and not chafe on anything. As my pregnancy progressed, I found myself feeling even more of a loving, protective bond with my wonderful man, and took it as my duty and my pleasure to service him whenever possible. Every morning after his shower, I would massage aloe lotion into the head of his penis, and of course make him ejaculate. Then I would gently massage his testicles for about five minutes before helping him get dressed. Upon his arrival home from a stressful office job, I'd meet him at the door with a passionate tongue kiss and immediately get him out of his trousers. I would sit him down on the sofa and he would tell me about his day while I lovingly sucked and licked his beautiful cock, finally causing it to spasm and flood my mouth with his semen. He would then remain without trousers for the rest of the night. Sometimes we'd fuck passionately, but as my pregnancy progressed, I opted more frequently for relieving him with my hands and mouth. Many husbands become sullen or jealous of the attention a new baby gets from the mother. Some women pull away from sex with their husbands after the birth of a child, but I just felt more maternal (if that's even possible), adamant that I would take care of him completely. There was no way I was going to let my wonderful man go without attention! He did get aroused from my milk-swollen breasts, and often after breast feeding the baby and putting him to bed, I'd be pulling my husband's crotch into my lap to play with his aching penis and pull and massage those wonderful testicles which had made me a mother. I often got so into what I was doing that I would continue to gently stroke his penis after ejaculation. Many men find the sensation too intense, but I had developed a trust with my hubby, and I never hurt him... I just gently cradled his spent penis in my soft, velvety hands, giving light strokes and squeezes, feeling each throb and pulse through his shaft as he came down off his orgasm. And then I'd be so full of loving tenderness for him that I would stroke him to a second ejaculation. Most of the time, I'd be wearing only my nursing bra with the flaps down, or just bare breasted, and by the time we were done and ready for bed, my tits would be streaked with semen and leaking milk. Not surprisingly, I got pregnant soon after our first son was born, and again I found myself the happy mother of another little boy! I was a domestic goddess, caring for all three of my boys (including the big one), and not once did hubby ever feel loved any less or ignored. The only change in our sexual habits was that we assumed some modesty when the boys were young – hubby wore a robe or loose sweats at home, and I always covered up when I wasn't breastfeeding. But as they got older and were weaned, we could again do our thing after the boys were in bed. I experienced some pain in my breasts when weaning our second son. It was then I discovered that having my hubby lay with his head in my lap and suckle my breasts got rid of much of the pain, and made me quite aroused! Of course he was willing, and of course it aroused him too, always producing a rock hard erection, which I would stroke and soothe while he nursed. One ejaculation for each breast was the norm. Another discovery happened during the potty training of our boys. Several times a day I found myself standing over one of my sons, pointing his little penis toward the potty while he did his business, in a very utilitarian way of course, but it got me thinking. Imagine hubby's surprise the first time I followed him into the bathroom, pulled down his sweats and aimed his penis for him! Of course, that often became an excuse for me to wash him, apply lotion to the head of his penis and stroke him to orgasm – and surprisingly, he never complained! The boys are now very self sufficient as they approach high school, and we often schedule overnights for them with various friends so that hubby and I can play. Although I'm no longer lactating, I still love hubby to suckle at my breasts while I stroke his penis and massage his testicles. He never has to ask for relief, because I usually take care of it first. In a very loving and maternal but firm tone, I tell him it's time to get his penis and balls out so they can breathe. Of course, before he can unzip, I'm already undoing his trousers myself. I smile and hum as I gently fondle his balls and tickle his penis with my sculpted nails, and usually suck his cock for a few minutes before I even get started. Sometimes he'll have to urinate, but with an erection it's impossible, so of course I have to make him ejaculate before we can take a trip to the bathroom. I take care of that too, holding and aiming his penis, shaking it afterwards and planting a soft kiss on the shaft. I often count how many orgasms I coax from hubby in a single day (including intercourse), and my record is ten. I think I can get one more out of him on a slow weekend if we don't have plans. Usually it's two or three on a work day: once in the morning with lotion, then another with intercourse. And on nights when I don't give intercourse, I give him two orgasms by hand or mouth. In fact, even when we do have intercourse, quite often I'll have him pull out when he's about to cum so I can stroke his penis while it sprays. I love watching the ropes of thick semen spurting out of the exposed, swollen head. There is always a nice testicle massage after he cums, too! On weekends when we're out shopping at the mall, we will often find a family restroom and I'll pull him inside. I quickly unzip his pants and release his penis and balls, put a squirt of lotion in my hand from the bottle I keep in my purse, and stroke him gently until his cock is spasming in my hand. I catch his semen in a tissue and it all goes down the toilet. So easy! It is our belief that more marriages would function well if the wife truly understood her man's needs, and took the pressure of asking for sex off him by preemptive relief. It's extremely arousing fun for the woman and absolutely necessary for the health of the man. If more women were like me, more husbands would be inspired to provide for and protect their families and never ever stray. My hubby knows this. All he had to do is surrender his pleasure to me, and I've never let him down. The Ultimate Wife Ch. 02 This entry concerns what I do with my hubby on a typical weekend day when the kids are away. If you want to get a background on our relationship, I recommend reading the first part, The Ultimate Wife. For those of you too lazy to go look for the other story, let me introduce myself. My name is Jennifer, but I go by Jen. I'm a 41-year-old housewife and mother of two preteen boys, which you'd think would make me the least attractive of the litter, but you haven't seen me. Despite my two pregnancies, I am in good shape for my age. Dark auburn hair, green eyes, thick lips, smooth olive skin, a nice solid hourglass shape, and a heart-shaped ass. My legs are slender and graceful, complimenting my 5'6" frame, and I proudly carry a set of 40DD breasts out front (one of the benefits of nursing two children). I've done my kegel exercises religiously, and despite delivering two rather healthy boys vaginally, I can still squeeze the heck out of my hubby's cock with my talented pussy. But aside from those rather obvious attributes, my hubby really thinks my hands should win some sort of humanitarian prize. They are soft and gentle, lightly veined, with long, tapered fingers ending in sculpted nails. I always thought they were large and awkward as a teenager, but I grew into them gracefully, and they've had lots of practice caring for the people in my life. My hubby is a striking 6'5" blond, blue-eyed god, and I easily fall in love with him every day. Especially when I'm tending to his thick 7.5" erection! Those who read the first story know that my passion is my hubby, his health and his pleasure. Nothing makes me more excited than to take care of hubby's every physical need... it fills me with an indescribable light-headed joy... a sensation of power, not in a malevolent sense, but like a maternal protectiveness. It's hard to describe, really. So I thought I'd offer instead to describe a typical weekend day when the boys are off at sleepovers and we have the house to ourselves. From the moment I wake up next to my lovely man, I'm thinking of all the wonderful sensations I will provide for him (and for me!). The first thing I do is reach over to slide my hand across his naked thigh and reach for his sleeping member. It doesn't take much to arouse his penis – it's like we have an arrangement: I touch penis, penis gets hard; I look at penis, penis gets hard. It's simple, but it works. I gently caress my husband's warm, ever growing penis and fondle his testicles, which begin to roll around and rise up in his scrotum. A low moan escapes his lips and he mutters something about having to use the toilet. "Ohh, poor baby," I console him, still petting his aching erection, "then we'll have to do something about this so you can pee." I gently pull him over so that he is now facing me, and kiss him passionately, my hands still pleasuring his swollen penis and bloated sac. "Let me suck your penis, baby." And down I go. I feel my nipples begin to stiffen as my soft lips accept his poor, aching head into my warm mouth. My left hand firmly holds his balls while my right hand grips the base of his cock. It's so thick and pulsing heat with every throb, and I feel my juices start to run between my legs as the large purple knob pushes into my loving mouth over and over. My only thought is how much I want to relieve him of his semen. Again and again my tongue swirls around the frenulum on the underside of his penis, and his breathing gets more and more elevated. "Oh shit," he gasps. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuuckkkk..." I love making him lose control and I keep up my suction. His dick is simply NOT leaving my mouth until it has released its semen. Suddenly his sigh becomes a cute little whimper, as I feel his testes contract and pull up toward his body cavity, and the fabulous cock in my hand bucks and convulses. I brace myself for a flood of semen in my mouth, and he doesn't disappoint me. A good half-dozen spurts of warm fluid fills my mouth and I gulp it down dutifully, even though it makes my eyes water. And while he's cumming in my mouth, I'm moaning past his cock and clamping my thighs together in my own climax! Our frenzy begins to slow down, but I keep his cock firmly held in my hands and mouth until I've sucked every drop of semen from it. I finally pull my mouth away and smile up at him. He looks exhausted, poor thing. "Good boy," I offer as praise for a job well done. He quivers a little, still sensitive from his orgasm, and kisses me on the top of my head. "You are fucking amazing, Jen. I love you so much." And my heart melts then and there. We're not even out of bed yet, and already I've brought my man pleasure, boosted his ego and self esteem, asserted my authority as his caretaker, and had an orgasm of my own! Not bad for a few minutes work. Then he winks at me. "But now I need to pee!" Laughing, we both leap out of bed, and I pull a short silk robe over my wobbling breasts, which are pretty flushed from my recent climax, and my nipples are jutting out like long pencil erasers. Hubby dashes naked for the bathroom, but I am hot on his heels. This has become one of my favorite things to do with my hubby. I know it may sound strange, but it's such a great bonding experience for us, I just can't let the opportunity slide. He moves into position before the toilet and lifts the lid, but before he can urinate, I move up behind him, big soft breasts pressing into his back. My right hand goes to grasp his tumescent penis, while my left hand snakes down to support his balls. It takes him a bit of concentration to get his very badly-needed pee stream going, but when it does, it sprays like a garden hose on high. It feels amazing, rushing through this organ which just moments ago was filling my hungry mouth with a totally different fluid! I marvel at the male anatomy and every time I aim his penis toward the toilet and help him in this very private function, I'm amazed more and more. When he's finally done ejecting the last drips, I firmly squeeze his penis between my thumb and index finger, wringing it free of any last remnants of urine. Then I shake it gently, giggling at the way I can make it wave and flop in my grasp. Then it's shower time. On weekdays, I let hubby shower alone, then I dry him and give his penis a thorough inspection, and then I massage aloe lotion into the head of his circumcised cock, and I don't stop until he spurts for me. But on weekends I join him in the shower. My husband understands it gives me a huge amount of pleasure to wash his body and care for his various needs, so on these days without other distractions, he allows me to fully worship and adore him. I wash his hair, then soap his body and scrub him gently, top to bottom. I also let him wash me, and all he has to do is soap up my tits before I'm squirming again. He will gently pinch and pull at my nipples, making them stand out almost comically, and with a single skilled hand down from my pubic mound to my clitoris, he has me shuddering in my own orgasm again. Of course I can't let him get away from my playtime, and I take special care of his genitals in the shower. I soap his penis and testicles skillfully, rubbing my hands around his glans, then down between his legs behind his scrotum. Before long, I sink to my knees and take him into my mouth again. For some reason, I find that if the first couple orgasms I give my hubby are oral, he doesn't get quite so worn out by my further demands on him, and we can play more often on these days. So I go to work on this lovely monster of his manhood, using my full lips and swirling tongue to coax another load from him. By this time, the hot water is usually gone, and we get out of the shower and towel off. He usually takes care of his own legs and hair, but only until I get wrapped up in a towel for my body and one for my hair. Then I demand control of his drying, and make sure he's fully water-free. Here we are in our bathroom, me sitting on the toilet lid, my own body wrapped in a towel, my gorgeous naked hubby standing before me, his penis and balls offered to me for care. It is at this time that I just drink in the moment, savoring the awesome, womanly power of having my husband submit his pleasure to me. I feel such powerful love and maternal care for him that I get this sort of ache deep within my pussy. After patting his genitals dry with the towel, I just hold his penis in one hand, cradling his balls in the other. I just stare at it as it lays semi-erect in my pleasure-giving hands, sometimes pulsing or moving on its own. He knows he can trust me to do right by him, that I will never hurt him. But he also knows that I am a strict wife, and I will push him to his limits, which he has never hesitated to thank me for. This is where I get serious, and where the day takes a whole new turn. "I love your penis, baby," I coo at him, my eyes never leaving the splendid piece of flesh in my hands. "You know I'm going to give it a workout today." His voice is a little hesitant, but he mutters a "y-yes." Which I find completely adorable. His penis twitches to life in my hand, but I just continue to hold it gently and examine the clean pink exterior and slightly reddened head. I gently run a finger around the brown circumcision scar, and he shudders with a slight moan. I'm instantly wet again, squirming slightly on the toilet as his cock begins to stiffen. "First things first," I say, reaching for the bottle of aloe body lotion and pumping it three times into my palm. "Circumcised boys need special attention to their exposed penis heads. I need to moisturize your poor cock." I find that when I tell him exactly what I'm going to do in a very maternal, authoritative tone, he achieves maximum excitement very quickly, and is usually very easy to bring to ejaculation. I grip hubby's penis in my left hand, stretching any loose penile skin toward the base, totally isolating the now throbbing head. Then I go to work, swirling the lotion around and around his big pink knob. Hubby's legs quiver and he lets out a moan. I know this is incredibly intense on his penis, especially since he's already ejaculated twice already. But I've had years of practice, and this is the progression that works to our maximum benefit. I look up at him with a smiling concern. "Does that tickle on your penis, baby? Hmmm? Is Jen making your penis tickle?" Poor hubby can only grunt and gasp as his legs begin to buckle. I don't let up my assault on his poor exposed knob. I make an O with my thumb and index finger and run it up and down over the head of his cock, just past the sensitive coronal ridge and then back up over the meaty head and tip. Over and over, cooing encouragement the whole time. "Mmmmm, it's okay baby. I'll make it all better. I'll take care of your cock, sweetie. You just let go and squirt, honey. Just think how good it will feel when you let go and squirt..." Between my motherly encouragement and the intense headplay, hubby soon lets out a surprised yelp like a frightened puppy and his beautiful penis begins to pulse and shoot. This is the big load of the day. The first two are usually good, but when he climaxes with this kind of stimulation, he gives six or seven good blasts at very high velocity. Some of it splats on my neck just above the towel and begins to drip down into my cleavage. Some of it shoots past my face and I can hear it hit the bathroom wall behind me. The rest of it goes right into the towel-covered mounds of my breasts. The moment he starts to cum, I stop the onslaught on his glans and begin to milk his penis from the base. I look down lovingly at the drooling penis in my firm hand, and notice the flared ridge around the fleshy head. It looks so angry, and yet, I know just how to make it happy again. While hubby calms down, I firmly squeeze every last drop of semen from his penis, and plant a thick-lipped kiss on the tip. Then, while he collects his wits, I gaze up at him, smiling at the wonderful control I wield in our relationship, simply by giving him pleasure... no, forcing him to accept pleasure, because he trusts me to know how much he can handle. I know his penis better than he does, because I've been making it ejaculate for twenty years (and I might add, twenty years in which he has only ever brought himself to orgasm when we were geographically apart). "Good boy," I grin at him, "you gave mama a big load, didn't you?" I chuckle, watching his eyes roll back in his skull. This was obviously a very intense orgasm, and he is still in no condition to speak. It doesn't matter, really. The talking just intensifies the session for both of us. "Your penis head looks so big, honey. Did it like my attention?" He nods weakly. "Would you like more?" I ask, knowing full well he couldn't take it so soon. He flashes a frightened look and whispers, "Please, no. Don't." My pussy throbs as I get that surge of maternal power. "Baby, who knows what's best for your penis?" I give it a firm squeeze to drive home my point. "Y-you do," he sighs. "You know I could stroke you like that all day if I thought it was good for you, but I love you and don't want to hurt you. I'll give you some time to rest. But I did say I was going to give your penis a workout, and I meant it." He nods, and I squeeze my thighs together in a near miss orgasm, which I don't let him see. It's very important for the day to progress under my direction, so he doesn't get distracted now that his testicles have been significantly emptied. "Now you just stand there and let me put my own lotion on." I remove the semen splattered towel from around my breasts and mop up the cum from my neck and chest. Then I take the same aloe lotion and put several pumps into each hand. I work it slowly into my hands, arms and shoulders, then massage it into my large, round breasts. After the ejaculation hubby just gave, my nipples are still protruding a good inch and a half, and the areolae are puckered and swollen. I use this time to fully work the lotion in, pulling and squeezing at my erect nipples. I feel the rush of blood to my womb again, and I gaze at hubby's poor, worked-over penis as it dangles helplessly in front of my chest. I see a small twitch and pulse from his cock as it begins to harden again – he must be surprised that it is coming back so soon. It's all the visual stimulation I need, and another orgasm rockets through my breasts and down through my clitoris. While I'm cumming, I take one hand to pull hubby closer so I can put his expanding penis in my mouth and suck it as I continue to spasm. This is a good one! We return to the bedroom where I begin to dress. I allow hubby a T-shirt if he wants, but under no circumstances is he to wear anything on his lower half. For the rest of the day, I will have full and unrestricted access to his genitals, and I will push them to their limits of pleasure. I, however, choose a cotton nursing bra (which still fits), a black V-neck long sleeve shirt, jeans and simple black pumps. I keep the flaps of the nursing bra down, so the shirt totally displays my plump torpedoes and distended nipples without actually showing anything. This disparity in clothing always has an arousing effect on hubby, as well as driving home the maternal authority I command. I prepare a nice breakfast in the kitchen, and hubby stands nearby, his erection wiggling with every movement. We chat about mundane things, but every so often, I reach down and squeeze his penis, just to reassure him who is in charge of it and that it will not be ignored. We share a pleasant breakfast together, with much fondling between bites of eggs and bacon. When we are done, I tell him to go wait for me on the couch in the sun room while I stack the dishes, as I forgot something very important. My man obeys immediately – he knows it will be worth it! I keep lotion in just about every room in the house, not only to moisturize my own skin, but to help relieve hubby. Even so, the sun room has about five bottles of various brands, and a ready supply of hand towels in the cabinet. The sun room is where something very primal and nurturing takes place: hubby's intensive testicle massages. I enter the room, my pumps clicking on the tile floor. The room stays warm pretty constantly, so it's easily the most comfortable room to work over my poor naked hubby. He waits for me by the sofa, and I immediately push up my sleeves and sit down next to where he is standing. "I can't believe I made you cum three times today and didn't massage your poor aching testicles." I pull him down so that he kneels straddling my lap, giving me perfect access to his swollen sac. "This is so important – I'm sorry baby." He leans over me, resting his arms on the back of the sofa as I gently begin a 10 to 15 minute very intensive massage of the testicles and perineum. I gently roll each ball around with my fingers, feeling for any lumps or hardness that could be testicular cancer. I gently run my thumb and forefinger together up the spermatic cords in the back, and knead between his legs on the perineal area, up to his anus. I then encircle his ball sac by making an O with my fingers and gently stretch everything downward. Then, while I have his testes firmly tight in their sac, I tickle and scratch the bottom of it with my clear, manicured nails. This always gets a response. I smile, noting the condition of his penis. "Honey, your penis is erect, and seems to be leaking. This was supposed to be balls only, but I see I am going to have to make Mr. Penis spray again." I giggle, gently slapping his balls with my soft, cupped hand. He jumps and flinches a bit, but I soothe them immediately, and then reach for whichever bottle of lotion I feel like using at this given time. On this occasion, it's a tropical coconut blend that happens to be edible, because I have plans... "Mr. Penis wants more attention," I chuckle as I smooth a handful of lotion over his erect circumcised cock. "So more attention he will have!" This time I'm in no hurry, and I don't need to concentrate intense stimulation on the head of the penis. This is fun, gentle and playful. I flick his cock with my fingers, I wave it around like a sword, I bend it down and let it go, making it flip up to smack his tummy with a wet 'whack!' I talk in soothing tones and lovingly stroke his penis, and soon enough he is spraying a small but lusty load into my hand and across my chest. Although not the amount of previous loads, some hits my cleavage and slides down, while another spurt leaves a glistening stripe on my left breast. I slow my stroking and hold his penis firmly but lovingly, praising his performance. "Oh, that's my boy. That's my good boy. You gave mama a good squirt, didn't you?" Oddly, we never use 'mama' as a term of endearment in any other context except parenting, but for some reason when I'm working my wonderful husband's body over, it just comes out. I gently squeeze his shaft and run my hand up to the head. He shivers. "Does that tickle your penis? Is it sensitive?" All he can offer is a groan, and I know I've got him where I want him. From this point out, I can do anything to his penis and he won't resist or complain. "Come up here and let me suck on your penis. I know it's sensitive, but let mama soothe it with her mouth." I must have made him ejaculate the rest of his willpower along with his semen, because he rises up immediately, offering his sore and throbbing penis to my warm and inviting mouth. I roll the engorged knob around on my tongue, applying suction to the shaft. He tastes like coconut and fresh semen, and I feel my crotch begin to warm up again. After about five or ten minutes of oral attention, I move him down to lay his head in my lap and I pull my shirt off, revealing my 40DD breasts with their large nipples sticking through the flaps of the nursing bra. "My nipples can't take it anymore," I tell him. "Baby needs to suck on mama's big breasts for a while." The Ultimate Wife Ch. 02 As I cradle his head in my lap, he swivels around so he is laying face up on the couch, giving me access to his penis. While he ardently suckles at my breasts, I lotion him up and begin to tease him into another erection. The sensation is unbelievably sexy, and I easily have four or five orgasms in a row – deep, vaginal ones that radiate out and join the feedback loop of sensation from my nipples to my clitoris. I feel such maternal love at this moment, I begin to stroke hubby's cock in earnest. "That's my baby boy. You suck on mama's breasts and let me make you cum. Come on, cum for mama. Cum for me, baby." By this point, he can't hold back. He is too well conditioned to surrender all his pleasure to me, and before long he is squirting a small jet of semen over my hand. He squirms, his mouth still latched onto my swollen nipple, and I talk him down. "It's okay baby. That's a good boy. What a good cum you had." And I continue gently stroking his shaft until his orgasm has subsided. At this point, I continue a sort of half-gentle half-firm massage of his penile shaft, to keep the blood flow going and make him stay erect. He knows we still have one breast to go, and he is expected to ejaculate again. We switch sides, and I take his engorged penis in my other hand and go right to work as he sucks on my other nipple, making it swell hard in his mouth. Once again, the orgasms hit me in a cascade, flooding my jeans with juices as I try to keep from squirming off the couch. Meanwhile, I'm stroking hubby's cock with purpose, working up to the point where I can play with the sensitive head again. Before I know it, hubby is twitching and squirting again, a meek few droplets of clear seminal fluid splat across my hand and wrist. I wasn't expecting him to cum quite so soon after his last, and I tell him how impressed I am. "Ohhhh, baby – what a good boy! You came again so soon! Oh honey, I love it when you let go and trust me like that! Your penis feels so wonderful, like it's surging all this power and love and I'm making it happen!" Hubby squirms beneath my heavy breast, acutely sensitive to my manipulation of his penis. But it is imperative that I don't let up, or our fun would be over. I keep stimulating his cock with just the essential pressure and friction to keep him erect and take him past his refractory phase. Soon, he is calm and still, his cock throbbing again in my hand. I sit him up from the couch. By this time, it's after Noon, and time for a much needed lunch break. We graze on pasta salad and sandwiches, and I sit him angled slightly away from the table, so that he is facing me with his legs spread and his engorged penis and sagging balls resting on the chair. I remain topless for the duration of lunch, giving my hubby plenty of visual stimulation and asking him how he's doing. He puts on a brave face and says he's doing fine, but I know I've given him such an endorphin rush that he's now in that halfway state between sexual buzz and total euphoria, which is my goal. I slip my left foot out of the pump every so often and run my toe along his veiny shaft, and I start to feel a flush in my chest and between my legs. Round three is about to begin! "Go to the bedroom, honey. I need to have you on my lap." That, of course, is the term for my extended ejaculation sessions where I'm seated comfortably on the bed, with hubby laid out before me, legs spread wide, hips elevated on my lap, giving me total access to his wonderful man parts. I can tell his penis is throbbing and sore as he limps to the bedroom, but I also know that he will love me for what I'm going to do to him. I replace my shirt, semen stain and all, and roll up my sleeves again, getting into position on the bed. He crawls up onto the bed and scoots his crotch into the perfect spot, legs spread wide. He looks so vulnerable, so very naked. I just have to reach out and start fondling him again. This time nothing is off limits. I tease a finger into his anus, I massage his balls, I stroke his penis steadily and without mercy. He moans and shivers, his senses on overload as I coax the next orgasm from his overused penis. The head flares, sticking out from his shaft like an ice cream cone. Only the slightest bit of lubricant emerges from his widened pee hole. I slow my stroking but do not let up. He gives me a moan that is somewhere between ecstasy and torture, and I know he is ripe for another orgasm. "That's my baby," I encourage him, "that's my good boy. You just let mama get all those cums out of you." His breathing gets shallow, and his body tenses again, and I pick up the pace of my stroking. My lotioned hand makes squishy, sucking noises as it firmly plays up and down his cock, sending a shiver through his body every time my hand passes over the engorged, flared head. He cannot hold back at this point. I see how far I can push him. "Come on baby, cum for mama." I feel a slight jolt through my pussy as a soft orgasm hits, and not long after, I feel his balls give way as he shudders in a dry orgasm. "Oh my lovely baby, oh my good boy! That's it, give me all your cums." His refractory barriers are gone - he has hit the euphoric state I wanted. His whole existence is centered in just over seven inches of fleshy cock, radiating sensation from the glans in my hand to his extremities. I continue milking his penis until he is once again hard, but I know at this point it is only a matter of time before he'll be too exhausted, poor dear. So I quickly shuck my jeans off, and mount his pole, riding him to an amazing triple orgasm for me and his final ejaculation of the day... or so he thinks. I climb off him and tuck him into bed for a nap, then go prepare some more food. I climb back into bed wearing my silk robe, and while he eats the food I've made him, I delicately move down to inspect his groin area up close. His prostate is sore, his penis shaft is throbbing and the poor head is a bundle of nerves, spongy and used. He says he thinks he's totally spent – I've drained him completely dry. I smile wickedly and say, "I'll be the judge of that," and I take the head of his cock gently in my mouth. He finishes his sandwich and surprises himself with a dry orgasm in my loving mouth. "Now you've had enough," I wink at him, licking my full lips. "Take the rest of the evening off. You'll need to go back to your workday schedule tomorrow and that means you have to make some more cum." He drifts off to sleep as I massage his empty testicles and plant kisses on his neck and shoulders. I dearly love my hubby, and if it weren't for his surrendering his pleasure to me, he would never have broken through these barriers. I cuddle my man as he rests peacefully, spent cock and balls cradled in my loving hands. The Ultimate Wife: Jen's Dream #1 The Ultimate Wife: Jen's Dream #1 My name is Jennifer and I am a 41yo, happily married woman. I'm so happily married it's ridiculous. My hubby and I met as horny teenagers and basically never slowed down when it came to sex. We treat each other so very well, and neither one of us has (or would ever) stray outside the marriage for sex. I am a natural caretaker, a woman of certain appetites and full of maternal strength. A long time ago, I asserted this maternal power in my relationship with my boyfriend (now hubby), in the form of a loving, nurturing control over his pleasure. He willingly surrendered the care of his privates and their pleasure to me, and I have proven every day exactly what a wise choice that was for him. I've never withheld sex from my wonderful hubby - quite the reverse. I exert my wifely authority and most often give him preemptive relief. I give him a real workout sometimes, and although it can be exhausting for the poor dear, he has never complained. If you've read my other submissions, you'll know that my favorite way of relieving my man is by hand, as I have more control and options at my disposal. It's also the way in which I can see the final effect of my efforts, as I watch his flared cock head spray semen out the tip. In the heat of passion, usually while I'm stroking hubby's meaty erection, we talk about fantasies. One time he confided that he would never be upset if I found myself in a situation where I felt I had to give another man hand relief. And although I would never consider sexual contact with another man in real life, the thought did enter my fantasy realm, and got filed away. About a week later, I had a series of extremely erotic dreams, and I would like to share them with you. The first dream was about a shipwreck. At least I think it was a shipwreck, as it was set on a small, deserted tropical island somewhere in the middle of a clear blue sea. Instead of being alone with my hubby, however, it appeared that three other men had been stranded with me. One sort of looked like my hubby, all 6'5" of blonde, blue eyed goodness. The second sort of reminded me of an attractive bank teller I saw once, about 6', dark haired and muscular. The third man was younger, about 18 or 19, with auburn hair like mine, a slim build and firm butt. And of course me, 5'6", slim waist and smooth round ass, and my set of wobbly 40DD breasts. It was apparent there had been an accident, since there was debris strewn around the beach. What didn't make sense was that, while I was clothed in 3" heeled knee-boots, a denim skirt and white scoop-neck T-shirt (one of my favorite combos), all three of the men had not a stitch on! I can't remember exact dialog, but there was a general murmur of building a shelter, a bonfire, scrounging up some food, and preparing for a long wait to be rescued. Those gorgeous hunks did everything - I didn't have to lift a finger. I just reclined on the beach, drinking in the sight of them as they walked around, constructing a shelter, spearing fish, gathering palm fronds and firewood, their penises and balls swaying and jiggling as they went about their business. I decided I would have to examine each of those lovely packages up close and personal. Fortunately I didn't have to wait long. The first injury was when bank teller guy stepped on a sea urchin, making him stumble and fall in the water. At that point I became the de facto nurse of our little settlement, cleaned and dressed the wound on his foot, and made sure to check him over for any traces of those poisoned spines. I tried to act nonchalant when his penis began to salute, although my pussy was contracting fiercely. Before long, it was sticking up straight against his reclining stomach, a thickly-veined 6" shaft topped by a nice, fleshy head. "You have some swelling here," I smiled sweetly at him. "I'll have to relieve that." It appears that even in my dreams I am never without a bottle of body lotion, and I laughed as I pulled one from the supply crate. I pumped a couple squirts into my left palm and immediately began working it into his erect cock. I noted that his penis was circumcised really tightly, the head straining against the stretched skin. I held his penis at the base and pulled forward, giving myself as much slack as I could. In the end, I gave up on that tactic and assaulted the head of his penis by rubbing my lotioned palm around and around, sending waves of intense sensation through his straining cock and into his body. It seemed I'd only been at it for a minute or two when his legs jerked and his tormented cockhead flared in my firm grip. "Aaarrrrrgggh. Mmmmmmm!" he groaned, as spurt after spurt of his warm semen flew toward my chest, splatting my cleavage, striping my soft T-shirt. One spurt hit my left nipple, then rolled down and dripped into my lap, pooling in the folds of my denim skirt. I continued to grip his penis as it spasmed, his hips writhing in the sand. When he'd calmed down, I ever so gently massaged his testicles and played with his sensitive glans. He jerked and moaned with each intense pass over the head, but he did not try to pull away or stop me. He knew I was in command here, and when I was done playing, I planted one of my sensuous kisses on the tip of his penis. I left bank teller guy to recover and, with my own juices leaking from beneath my skirt, went in search of my other two charges. I found my young auburn haired lad gathering coconuts around the far side of the beach, and asked how he was doing. He looked so proud when he said he'd collected enough to feed us for a week, and I gave him a big smile of praise. I'm sure he saw the streaks of semen drying on my clothes, but I was watching his cock sway to and fro as he shifted his weight. Suddenly he seemed to get shy and made a remark about being naked in the presence of a sexy, fully clothed woman (semen-stained or not). Before my eyes, his cute little wiener began to throb and grow, climbing up toward the light like a strange, fleshy plant. I guess every man in my dreams is circumcised - which makes sense, given the fact that aside from my two sons, I've never really experienced an uncut penis. I was transfixed. His shaft was more slender than the last one, but I estimated a length of at least 9" when fully erect! Again he gave a bashful blush and tried to turn away. I stopped him, placing my hands on my hips in a scolding manner, which thrust my big breasts out, and probably didn't help his erection at all. "Don't you dare cover up or turn away from me," I scolded him. "You are naked and I have my clothes on, and that's just the way it is. You can trust me - I have no interest in hurting my boys. I know getting an erection in front of a clothed woman is probably embarrassing, but I don't mind at all... in fact, I'm flattered that I make your penis hard." He continued to blush, but turned back around to fully display his goods. "That's better," I smiled sweetly, adding an adoring sigh. "And what a beautiful penis it is." I reached out and grasped his erection in my soft hand, still somewhat moist from the lotion. "Would you like me to put some lotion on it?" The young man could only nod meekly, and it made me giggle - the poor lamb was petrified, standing there naked with a sexy brunette holding his cock. But he didn't fight it, or turn away, or try to cover himself. He let me pleasure him, and I made sure he was happy! Once again, I squirted some lotion into my hands and went to work on "Long John", twisting my right hand up and down his fleshy pole while my left hand pulled and worked his balls. He winced a bit with my working of his testes, but I soothed him. "Shh shh shh. You need to trust me - I know what I'm doing. Now spread your legs a bit more, honey." He did exactly as ordered, and my vaginal lips began to swell. My nipples stood out almost obscenely through my full-cup bra and the thin cotton T-shirt. I sighed happily and hummed as my hands continued to work his hard penis and tightening balls. I felt his testes trying to draw up to his body, and I immediately made an O with my thumb and forefinger around the top of his sac, preventing his balls from escaping and pulling them gently downward. The poor kid was beside himself, and I felt like the lioness tending to a cub. "There there," I said as I continued to pull downward on his ball sack while masturbating his penis in firm, luxurious strokes. "We can't allow these little guys to escape." I giggled, and that seemed to have a huge effect on the lad. I didn't think it was possible for that fleshy cock to get any longer, but it seemed to expand to twice its original girth. I felt the telltale contractions of his nuts as they tried to swim up toward his body cavity, and I concentrated all stimulation on his exposed cockhead, squeezing his glans with rapid strokes. "Ah ah ah," he gasped, "oh god... oh god..." "My name is Jennifer," I corrected with a laugh as I squeezed his cockhead with skilled precision, forcing him over the edge. "Ohhhhh gaaaahhhd, J-Jenn... Jennifer!" The spray was amazing. Semen spewed from his flared, overstimulated glans with amazing force. Since I was standing in front of him, most of it shot onto my front, from the lap of my skirt up to my heaving tits. It covered my arms and hands, and one spurt actually hit the bottom of my chin. "Very good, honey! Oh my lovely boy!" I grinned as his penis continued shooting its white goo. I loved the sensation of forcing pleasure on a man who could just as easily overpower me or run away but actually CHOSE to surrender to my ministrations. My clitoris began to swell and my left hand dropped from his balls to the front of my skirt, and I began to rub my crotch in earnest. The thing is, I was still stroking "Long John's" amazing cock, and he was on overload. His legs buckled and quivered, his hands balled into fists as he clamped his eyes shut and whimpered like a hurt puppy. "P-please..." he begged, "please s-s-stop... ohhh my penis." "Yes, your poor penis," I cooed, pursing my lips. But I kept stroking it, fascinated as the head oozed the remnants of his ejaculate and his breathing got shallow. "Hold still, honey. Just a little more. I'm almost there." He winced and shut his eyes again, a tear streaming down his cheek. "Oh god... oh n-no..." Incredibly, his cock stiffened in my hand, and another spray of semen shot out in great warm spurts, once again plastering my skirt and top. My legs pressed together and the most thunderous orgasm I can remember shot through my body. It radiated from my pelvis, up through my entire vaginal cavity and up through my breasts, making my nipples grow to obscene proportions. I shuddered, still stroking the spurting penis in my hand, riding out one of my longest orgasms on record. Still the semen continued to shoot out of the pulsing shaft as I pulled all the juices out. I felt like a goddess! In dreams, the scene can change abruptly. Suddenly the young man was gone, and I was wandering along the beach, looking for the man who resembled my husband. I found him walking the other direction, fishing spear in hand, his marvelous cock swaying as he walked. I needed him, and I needed him right now. I ran directly up to face him, and he dropped the spear, taking me in his arms. I felt protected and so full of maternal joy - I just wanted to care for him, to make his penis erect and then get it to spray. I dropped to my knees before this fantastic cock, taking it gently in my hands. It swelled to full hardness in seconds, and I sucked it hungrily into my mouth. "Jen... oh baby..." When I opened my eyes, I realized it had been a dream, but for some reason my mouth was still full of cock. Hubby told me later that I'd been sleeping fitfully, apparently having some kind of hot dream, and then suddenly grabbed his penis and shoved it in my mouth. I figured as much but in that moment, I just wanted to continue the dream. I sucked his thick erection into my warm, loving mouth, licking around the underside of the head as I pumped his shaft with one hand and worked his balls vigorously with the other. In no time, he was squirting his thick semen into my mouth, and I lovingly sucked it down. Of course, I had to tell him about the dream before it left me, and hearing it caused his penis to swell again. This time, I mounted him and milked his wonderful cock with my toned and experienced pussy, and we came together. We fell to the bed with his softening penis still clutched in between my legs. I sighed the sigh of ultimate contentment, and we drifted off. I hope to go back to that desert island someday. The Ultimate Wimp I am, shall we say, amused by all of the hullabaloo regarding the subject of cuckoldry and wife-sharing. This fantasy persists despite the vehemence of so many, who would mock and degrade people for indulging in this particular flavor of erotic composition. It drives me to write the story of my own life, share my own adventures, and add an element of dignity and integrity to the discussion. I shall write my story in the first person, because it is an axiom that stories written in such a manner are believed, by a great many, to be unavoidably true. But, alas, my reverie was interrupted. My sensuous wife, Cynthia, arrived at home from another exhausting day at work. She set her purse aside and poured herself a generous glass of lemon iced tea, her favorite thirst-quenching drink. She was a truly remarkable woman, graceful and physically fit, and I was proud to have her as my friend, my wife and my confidant. "You are sumptuous, as always, my dear," I said with a smile. "I know. Look, I have a date with Steve tonight. Can you make sure to have dinner on the table by six?" Cynthia looked quite impatient. I felt a wave of regret, but I was not at fault; I simply had not known about her date. Certainly, I would have ensured the commencement of our meal at a much more convenient time had I been made aware. "Steve, is it?" I said curiously. "And what frolicking adventure will the two of you be pursuing this fine evening?" "We're planning to see a movie, then we'll be coming back here to fuck." Cynthia and I had an open marriage. An open marriage is frequently defined as a committed relationship that allows each to engage in extramarital intercourse. Our relationship had a unique, and, dare I say, clever twist; I was not permitted to have sex with others. Oh, never mistake my true intentions; many months ago, I met a woman I shall call Sally that I very much wanted to bed. In a stroke of intense jealousy, Cynthia refused to permit this encounter to ever occur. When I told Sally I could not keep our appointment, she stated to me, as if it were fact, that I was a very wimpy man. I disagreed with Sally and told her directly, but then I felt distraught for disagreeing and apologized profusely. I went to check on my three precious children. I tell them every day that I am so very proud of them. My oldest is Jennifer, who is now ten years-old. I must admit, she is not technically my child. A paternity test several years ago informed us that her father was, apparently, one of Cynthia's many extramarital lovers. Then there is my eight-year old son, Samuel. I am not his father, either. Through rigorous investigation, we have narrowed down his father to one of five possible candidates. Then there is Claudia, the youngest, our precocious six year-old girl. I am embarrassed to say, again, that I am not her true father. None of that is particularly relevant, because our marriage is vibrant and healthy. All three children were happily playing in the backyard with various pieces of lawn equipment while my wife was preparing for her date with Steve. I waved at the children giddily, thrilled to see them playful and contented. I left the children to visit our boudoir, simply to inquire about Cynthia's date preparations. Many people hurl criticisms at us for conducting our marriage in a way that violates social convention. They say it isn't proper, but the longevity of our joyous union argues otherwise. I pushed open the door to our bedroom, only to find Cynthia stretching a silky black stocking up her beautiful, long leg. I gasped. "You are breathtaking," I told her, my mouth agape in an expression of awe. "Thank you. Steve loves my legs in thigh-highs. He loves to feel them as he eats me." "Perhaps I can do that for you someday, too, darling," I said, watching her every subtle movement. "No, you wouldn't be very good at it." "Yes, I'm afraid you're probably right. But it is quite stimulating to consider. I am afraid that my erection is growing as we speak." "What, you're small cock?" she pointed at me and laughed. "It's growing?" "I take offense. It is not small. It is an inch and three-quarters!" "Steve is eleven inches. I love to suck on it, it's so manly and thick. Your cock is so small that I could floss my teeth with it." This kind of blunt language always pushed me to the edge of reason. The mere thought of Cynthia's legs spread wide, engaging in intercourse and probably getting pregnant again excited me beyond belief. My erection grew, I dare say, but nobody seemed to notice. Cynthia continued to dress, wrapping herself in a black lace bra that revealed just the right amount of cleavage. She added a mini-skirt, an opaque top, high heels and a wonderfully brilliant red coating of lipstick. She was fully adorned for her date with Steve. I whispered to her that she was radiant, a fantastic sight to behold, then she told me that I was a wimp. I laughed, because she was always the notorious jokester. I stepped outdoors to water the lawn, allowing Cynthia ample opportunity to complete her preparations. My neighbor, Henry, was outside as well. He and his wife, Gladys, have always been quite judgmental about our marital arrangement, but I am usually able to turn a deaf ear and disregard their vicious barbs. "You pathetic little wimp, a real man would never let his wife screw with other men like that. You're going straight to hell, you sick bastard." That was Henry lobbing verbal bombs toward me. He and Gladys have been married for a very long time, a fact that led them to have an unearned faith in their marital expertise. "Hey, Henry, it is a nice day, is it not?" I said, attempting to take the high road once again. The mail truck pulled up to Henry's house, a fortunate circumstance indeed. The truck would distract Henry and I could continue watering my lawn without the need to step carefully through his verbal minefield. The mailman handed him several envelopes. He responded harshly. "You take fucking forever to deliver the mail, and when you get here, you give us this shit that I wouldn't even wipe my ass with." Then, an unfortunate young girl in full uniform trotted toward Henry, wanting to sell him cookies. She was dancing and smiling, so eager to make money for her charitable organization. I always buy several boxes from her, but Henry was not usually supportive. "Would you like to buy some cookies, sir?" she said to Henry. "I have thin mints and..." "Holy fuck, you wander up here like a sick dog and want us to give you money for this horseshit you sell? I hope you and your stupid green munchkin friends all die horribly." The girl fled in tears. I considered his tirade against her to be one of the most despicable acts I had ever witnessed. I was about to tell him just that, but his wife called out to him from inside the house. "Hey, Henry, you fat fuck, get your tubby ass in here and change these light bulbs, will you? I can't believe I married a stupid cocksucker like you." "All right, all right, stupid bitch. Shut your fucking trap, will you? Hey! Get the fuck out of my way! Goddamn squirrel!" Henry ambled inside, and Steve pulled up in his expensive convertible. As my wife's date for the evening, I felt obligated to shake his hand and greet him. I approached him as he exited his car and held out my hand. "I don't think so," he said. I guess he was ill and didn't want to pass the germs to me, a gesture I very much appreciated. "Where is your wife? I can't wait to fuck her." "Upstairs," I said. He was playing into my fantasy perfectly, assuming the role of Cynthia's powerful lover and pretending to make me feel insufficient. He was doing a really good job of it, too, I must say. Steve went upstairs and I followed several minutes later. I wanted to wish them well at the film, but they were already lounging on our bed, brazenly kissing and fondling. The action was hot and heavy, tongues sliding in and out of their mouths, wet saliva dripping down their chins. My wife pulled her skirt up and opened her legs for him. Steve unzipped and pulled out his thick cock. "Yes, give it to me, baby," my wife blurted. "I want that entire thing deep inside me." "Oh yeah, I'll give it to you," Steve answered. "I'll make that sweet pussy swallow every inch." "Hey, would anyone like a muffin?" I chimed in. I had a tray of them with me, to offer as an appetizer. "I have blueberry, raspberry and poppy seed." They didn't hear me, apparently. "No? Your continued silence will only guarantee more for myself," I said gleefully. I selected a poppy seed muffin and took a bite. "Shut up, wimp," my wife said bitterly. Occasionally, my wife calls me a wimp, but that is most unfair. I was about to tell her so when a ladybug landed on my hand. I had a long history of being frightened of ladybugs. Unfortunately, I have yet to find a technical 'phobia' term that exists for this disorder. I jumped around the room, trying to get it off me, only dimly aware of the hot sex that was occurring nearby. Normally, my wife's cries of pleasure would excite me, but with the nightmarish insect slowly sucking the life from me, I couldn't focus. Finally, the bug fell off. I retrieved a shoe and smashed it repeatedly until I was satisfied that it was dead. I whirled around and observed that they had both climaxed. Steve stood nearby, still erect. My wife's legs were spread wide, and she called me over. "Clean my cunt, wimp," she told me. "I'll clean you, because I love you," I answered. "But I am NOT a wimp. Did you see that monster I just killed?" "Clean me." "Yes, Ma'am." I got between her legs and licked her. I sucked his seed out of her body and consumed every drop. It was perverse and disgusting, but I love my wife dearly. I do not deny her requests arbitrarily. "Now, wimp, go suck the rest of the cum from Steve's cock," she added, after I completed the task at hand. "I'm not going to do that, that's awful." "Do you love me?" "Of course I love you, Cynthia. Do you love me?" "No. Now suck his cock." "Okay." I knew she was kidding. Our love transcended the mortal boundaries of our planet and spanned all of time and space. Infinite in measure, boundless in size... "Suck it!" "Okay, okay..." I sucked him. It was awful, but my act demonstrated the power of true love. We do things for one another. I remember once, many years ago, Cynthia did something kind and generous for me. Oh well, I forgot what it was. "Okay, now, you lowly little peasant, Steve has an open sore on the side of his cock. I want you to suck the pus from it." "What?!" "You heard me," she said sternly. "Oh god, that's terrible." "Do you love me?" "Oh lord..." "Well, do you?" "Okay, golly, the things we do for love." I don't even want to describe what happened next. It was truly disgusting. People experiencing such profound joy and overwhelming love often do disgusting things for one another. I guess. "You aren't finished, wretched little troll. Steve had diarrhea this morning and didn't wipe properly. Now..." "We need to go," Steve said. "No more time for cleaning." "Oh shoot," she said, frowning. I breathed a sigh of relief. Love is magnificent, but often very challenging. As are all relationships, I suppose. I walked outside to enjoy the crisp evening air, leaving the lovebirds to ready themselves for their date. Henry was outside again, talking to yet another neighbor, who happened to be a theoretical physicist. "Holy god, you stupid fuck, that's entropy," Henry said, gesturing wildly. "You know, the second law of thermodynamics? Temperature and pressure will always equalize in any closed system over time. You don't know a damn thing, do you?" I could keep quiet no longer. Henry was too vile, too mean-spirited. Somebody needed to step forward and engage him directly. Besides, it would be my opportunity to prove that I was not a wimp. I charged toward Henry, determined to put him in his place once and for all. "If you can not subdue your cruel nature," I said to Henry in my most threatening tone. "Then I won't bother to finish knitting the rainbow blanket I've been making for you." Henry said some stuff after that, and spit flew, but I couldn't comprehend any of it. It was a hunch, but I don't think his tirade included a promise to be kind to anyone. Mental note: Quit knitting. My wife tapped me on the shoulder. "I'm leaving you." "Please enjoy yourselves," I answered. "I do hope the film is of the highest quality." "No, no, I'm leaving you forever." "Forever?" "Yes, forever. I won't be back. I'm going to file for a divorce and marry Steve." "Oh." An appropriate response eluded me. Our relationship had developed in such a way as to eliminate jealousy completely from my marital vocabulary. Indeed, any hint of Cynthia's wanton activities typically sent me into a lustful frenzy. Cynthia informing me that she would leave me and marry Steve was the sexiest, most erotic thing I had ever heard. "That's fantastic, dear," I said. "I won't ever see you again." "I know. It's terrific. No jealousy. It shows how strong our marriage is that I feel no jealousy. Just erotic excitement." "You are one stupid little man." Her commanding, degrading tone once again turned me on. She played me as she would a musical instrument. She loved me so much that she was willing to go to the ultimate extreme for my submissive pleasure; leaving me forever. My heart nearly burst with joy. "I love you," I yelled to her. "You're a total loser," she yelled back. Cynthia loaded her suitcase into the trunk of Steve's car and hopped into the front seat. Tires squealed and she was gone forever. So great was my excitement that I knew my nearly two-inch engorgement would last for hours. Of course, I would never see my wife again. She loved me that much. Some people, like Henry, would suggest that my marriage was dysfunctional. However, our love was pure and complete. There were no limits and I felt no jealousy. In fact, we had transcended the typical 'open' relationship and evolved it further, because she was not only free to have sex with others, but she was free to divorce and marry others. Most people could never handle a marriage like this. It would create complications. It illustrates succinctly what love and a strong marital bond can accomplish. I returned to the house. I heard our gas-powered weed trimmer roar to life in the backyard. Silly kids. I ignored them, and sat down and continued to knit my rainbow blanket. If Henry doesn't want it, then I'll just have to savor it myself.