by A. S Peavey
On those other days when she’d come home early for normal reasons, she’d ended up relaxing on the couch, having a hot bath, or doing something else for herself, not anything for them as a couple.
But after her first orgasm today, before she even returned home, Kelsey didn’t need to relax. And seeing Omar’s furtive love poetry only pushed her to do something romantic, to try to win him back—as if she’d lost him, as if he didn’t want to inject more romance himself.
She did have to take a break mid preparations. Her imagination started to skip past the romantic dinner she was preparing onto what she and Omar would do afterward. But fortunately, she had some time. And with the images running through her head—soon it wasn’t just Omar, but multiple people fucking her at different points in her fevered imagination. Even Doctor Boutre had eaten her out. That image had only lasted bare seconds, but she still felt the urge afterward to apologize to her fertility doctor—especially because, until she was able to force it out of her mind, she had felt hornier for it.
Of course, finally getting her orgasm helped expel those and other thoughts. She didn’t end up orgasming in the record time that she’d finished while in the car, but it had been quick. And then, though she could have played with herself again, she was satiated enough to get back to her cooking.
Though when she didn’t have something to do in the kitchen, her mind was planning out the seductive evening that would follow this romantic dinner. She imagined finding ways to encourage Omar to treat her like he treated his mistress.
This was, after all, what Doctor Boutre had suggested. Some of the romance had slipped, and a nice dinner with candles (if not actually candle lit, because the lights were also on) was a great way to restore some of that romance.
Of course, by the time food was on the table and the candles lit, Kelsey wasn’t able to appreciate the dinner. She was too excited to get on to after dinner activities, even knowing that, for her plan to succeed, for her to get Omar to play his part, the dinner was crucial. She still, desperately, wanted to skip to the next step.
They had to talk. And they had a nice conversation—at least when Omar wasn’t overly effusive in his praise of Kelsey’s cooking. Their discussion ranged over a dozen topics. And they frequently met each other’s eyes, flirting silently.
It was all prelude to the acts that would fulfill Kelsey’s desires. But the prelude was slow. Kelsey didn’t want polite dinner conversation. She’d hoped the wine would loosen their tongues—the kind of loosening that led to dirty talk.
Kelsey couldn’t denigrate their conversation. It never was bad. Kelsey had been forced to listen to other couples complaining that their dinner conversation consisted of nothing more than a dry recitation of the day’s events. Kelsey and Omar’s conversations were never like that. There were jokes, Omar had saved stories from his day that he thought Kelsey would enjoy—even more than they amused him.
Kelsey didn’t have anything along those lines to contribute today. She hadn’t been concentrating on bringing home a conversation topic—and, of course, half her day had been filled with the doctors appointment that was supposed to have taken place last week.
But she couldn’t appreciate Omar’s stories today. Kelsey didn’t want polite dinner conversation. She wanted something rude. She wanted to tell him how horny she’d gotten at the fertility clinic today—if only she’d thought up a better lie last week so she could. Failing that, she wanted innuendo. But she was too timid to start, even with the wine hitting her brain. She was afraid if she said something nasty, it would make her secret unravel.
She did make a show of erotically eating her breadstick, but if Omar noticed, he didn’t say anything.
Once they finished dinner, Kelsey stood.
“Stay right there,” she told Omar when he pushed back his chair.
“What, did you make desert too? You should have told me. I didn’t leave room for more.” Omar patted his stomach.
Kelsey didn’t respond. She picked up the wine bottle and refilled Omar’s glass—while, with the other hand, she gently caressed his shoulder.
Omar took a sip, and then asked: “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Kelsey shook her head. But the way she moved her hands over his body must have presented an obvious clue.
She slowly knelt in front of him, opening his legs. Omar had pushed his chair far enough back that he only needed to slightly reposition himself so Kelsey could get between his legs without putting herself under the edge of the table.
“I didn’t think it was that time in your cycle?”
“I want to fuck you the rest of the time too.”
“Yeah. I know…I just…when we do…”
“Shh.” Kelsey put a finger over Omar’s lips.
Omar was trying to say that when they had sex the rest of the month, it was never this early in the evening. It usually happened when they went to bed, or not too far before that. The only time lately when they had sex earlier in the day—especially on weeknights—was when Kelsey was in the most fertile period of her cycle, when Kelsey wanted to make sure they would have sex, rather than putting it off until they both might be too sleepy to make love.
Kelsey still wanted to explain just what was going on inside her mind—or at least as much as she didn’t need to keep secret. But she had other uses for her mouth right now.
She didn’t wait long to fish Omar’s cock out of his pants and then to start licking and kissing it. She only paused to smile up at Omar, as he moaned.
She was enjoying this. She’d forgotten how fun it had been to give pleasure. It had been so long since sex had been about giving pleasure for Kelsey and Omar. Certainly they’d happily shared pleasure, but even before they decided to have a child, sex hadn’t been consciously about giving pleasure for years.
It hadn’t consciously been about anything in years.
Kelsey took Omar’s right hand and put it on top of her head. Then she took his left hand and put it on the side of her head. She didn’t want him to be passive—she wanted him to push her onto his cock, to control the rhythm. To use her. She knew he wouldn’t be forceful, but she wanted feedback.
His hands gave a gentle pressure, letting Kelsey know when she should slow down, when she needed to speed up. Sometimes he ran his fingers through her hair, or caressed her cheek with a finger.
The sensations he caused then were nice, but Kelsey didn’t care about her physical pleasure, not right know. She cared about the knowledge of Omar’s pleasure that those signs transmitted.
All the more so when he couldn’t prevent the sudden flexing of his hand, when he had to control himself to keep from pulling her mouth hard onto his cock, to keep from gagging her.
“I’m…I’m…” Omar panted. “I’m…Honey, slow down.”
Kelsey took that as her cue to speed up.
“Ooooh. But…”
Kelsey lifted a hand and put a finger on Omar’s lips, just long enough to quiet him.
She was enjoying this. Kelsey liked being in control. She liked giving. It had been a long time since she had decided to let him come in her mouth—to make him come in her mouth. Usually, blowjobs—and cunnilingus—were just a prelude to sex, a way to make sure the other spouse was ready for penetration, for that mutual pleasure.
Omar didn’t last long after he realized what Kelsey wanted. He’d been holding back as much as he could, but even if he’d only been nearly ready, the thought of Kelsey’s desire would have pushed him over the edge.
The only problem arrived when Omar relaxed. He leaned back, and nearly tipped his chair over backward. Kelsey had to steady it, but then she laughed. This was exactly what she’d wanted.
Omar sat forward, smiling.
And Kelsey looked up, flashing her own smile. She had Omar’s semen on the tip of her tongue, she pushed it forward. Kelsey didn’t have to ask if Omar saw, or understood. His cock, with one of Kelsey’s hands still resting gently on it, clearly twitched. It rema
ined soft, but not as soft as before. He’d definitely be up for another round soon.
“I’m going to eat you out.”
“Okay,” Kelsey said. She wanted him to take the lead.
“Come on, let’s head to the bedroom.”
“The couch,” Kelsey said. She only spoke to prevent their customs from letting this slip into more boring sex. Maybe Omar had put her in one category—simpler sex—and his mistress in another. But Kelsey wanted to break the boundaries.
“The couch…” Omar twisted his lips. But he wasn’t going to object. “Okay.”
Kelsey stripped as she walked towards the couch. Letting her blouse, then her bra, slip out of her hand, land where they may across the room. She broke her stride in order to take off her pants and underwear, bending completely over, her ass up, pointed at Omar behind her.
Omar stuck a finger between her legs, caressing her pussy lips.
“Ahh.” But Kelsey didn’t let Omar go on. She wanted to get to the couch.
She was glad when she arrived, and looked around, to see Omar completely naked too. Of course, Omar’s pants had been open. He’d had to step out of them in order to walk, if he didn’t want to button them back up. But he might have tried with his pants dragging down. He could be conservative, especially about being naked outside the bedroom.
But right now he was eager. He lay Kelsey down so he could kneel between her legs and return of the favor of head.
The positioning was awkward. At first, Omar had Kelsey lengthwise on the couch, one leg off.
Kelsey waited a minute, wondering if Omar would suggest another position. She didn’t know if he ate out his mistress—Kelsey hoped he did, he hoped he was considerate with that other woman. He certainly liked to explore a variety of positions around the other woman.
When he didn’t suggest a change, Kelsey did. She spun around, facing off the couch sitting up, but slouching. And she opened her legs wide, giving Omar plenty of access to her wet pussy.
And Omar knelt on the floor and dove right in.
By the time Kelsey had her first orgasm of the evening, Omar was hard again and ready for more. Kelsey’s spasming hips on his face would have made him ready, if he hadn’t been capable of the next step yet.
Kelsey pulled him up to sit next to her, to hold her, when the first waves of pleasure washed over her. But it was difficult not to notice his hard cock poking into her side. In the past she would have been content to wait, to simply enjoy the come down from her first orgasm. But today she needed more; all her thoughts, all her desires needed their release.
Kelsey rolled and crawled and clawed to reposition herself until she was facing off the side of the couch, her ass up above her knees, though she didn’t have the energy to prop herself up on her hands or even elbows. She lay on her breasts on the arm of the couch. Her head hung down.
But she got into a position where her husband could fuck her.
She was desperate for him to fuck her. As if she’d hadn’t just orgasmed for the third time today—the third time in four hours. Kelsey almost said that aloud. For a moment she was glad that her post orgasmal state had sapped her energy. Though if Omar had somehow been unaware of what she wanted, Kelsey might have needed a minute to recover before she could reach back to find Omar’s cock, to guide him in. Or at least until she could reach as far back as her own ass, pulling her cheeks apart.
But Omar didn’t need any further signal to know what his wife wanted from him. He climbed up onto his knees—Kelsey could feel the cushions sink down—and entered her, starting to fuck her.
It was nice. It was rhythmic. Omar occasionally let his hands range over her back, or sometimes, using one for support, his other would snake around underneath her and play with her clitoris for a while.
It felt good. Of course it felt good. But Kelsey wanted more. She wanted to tell Omar to fuck her hard. To fuck her like his mistress.
But she couldn’t. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want to ruin anything by unveiling that secret, or that her own philandering would have to come out next.
But it would only be in the right circumstances that she could do, or even say, raise the subject of their affairs. When she was desperately horny, needing that passion, she could approach a stranger at the bar, or kneel at the dinner table to take her husband’s cock out of his pants.
And Kelsey was certain that if her husband started fucking her like he’d fucked that other woman, she’d be able to say such things, to talk as dirty as a prostitute.
But if her husband started fucking her like that, if the passion came back, she wouldn’t need to order him to bring on the passion.
And tonight showed passion, at least more passion than usual. This wasn’t their tame bedroom sex. But Kelsey knew Omar was capable of more; she witnessed him with his mistress.
“Oh, yeah,” Kelsey said, trying to entice Omar on. “Your cock feels so good in my pussy.”
She waited a minute, hoping Omar would respond, that he’d say something naughty.
When he didn’t, she tried again. “Look down at your naughty wife’s ass as you pump into her.”
Omar didn’t say anything.
She tried a few other things. It wasn’t hard to come up with naughty phrases. The kind of lines that sounded incredibly corny at any other time sounded incredibly enticing in the middle of sex. But at most he grunted, and at most he would moan a word—“Yes,” “God,” or “Unf”—though his cock would twitch inside her, his fingers would tense where he held onto her back.
“Does your wife’s wet pussy feel good around your cock?” Kelsey was determined to get some response.
“Yeah,” Omar said. Nothing more.
Kelsey decided not to try saying anything else, or elicit any verbal response. She wanted to tell him what naughtier things he should do to her, but she couldn’t get the words out. Dirty talk was one thing when it was saying how good this felt. But telling her husband what to do was a step she was having trouble taking.
She would keep trying, though. Kelsey pushed herself up. First her hands on the arm of the couch, and then higher, until she was nearly vertical, with one hand on the back of the couch. Her husband’s hands found her breasts, distracting her for a minute.
Then she turned around, regretting the moment Omar slipped out of her. But she was in motion, pushing him down onto the couch. He half fell, unsure what she was doing until she crawled on top of him.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Kelsey said as she lowered herself onto him, hoping Omar would appreciate it. She saw his face respond, his wicked smile told her that he did appreciate her. But he didn’t say anything.
That smile helped satisfy Kelsey, but this still wasn’t the passionate give and take Kelsey was hoping for.
But the feelings were exquisite as she rode Omar, her energy was high, she moved on him, trying different motions, squeezing his cock inside her—she’d let her kegel exercises slip until the past week.
“What do you want me to do?” Kelsey asked.
“This…”
It wasn’t an inspiring answer. But it was, or should have been a good answer. Omar loved her the way she was, he loved just how she fucked him.
But Kelsey wanted more.
She forgot about that, though, as she worked herself into a rhythm. And it wasn’t long before she watched Omar’s eyes glaze over. She knew he was close, so she picked up the pace as she felt his body go rigid.
And then she felt his semen spurting into her, harder than she’d felt it in ages. Her own orgasm followed in the wake of his enthusiastic response.
Kelsey had collapsed on top of Omar, and then lay like that, as if in a puddle, for ten minutes. Each was aware of the other, the currents of their breath and heartbeat, but otherwise they lay quiet.
Omar was the first to speak.
“God…That was…wow.” Omar said.
“You liked it.”
Omar opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find appropriate words. His wide grin as he
nodded his head like a school kid was far better thanks than any words he could have offered Kelsey.
“But we’d better clean up the couch before any of this soaks in.”
Omar snaked out from underneath Kelsey, since she’d neither moved nor told him to stay where he was.
Kelsey followed Omar into the utility closet, but not to help him get cleaning supplies. When he stopped to look for the right spray bottle, she bent down, and started sucking his cock again.
“Oh, wow. That feels good.”
“But not so good that it stops you from talking?”
“Well. That’s…two orgasms already tonight. It really does feel good, but more like a massage than something sexual.”
Kelsey flashed puppy dog eyes at her husband.
“You’re going to have to give me time. And we really should clean up the couch.”
“You first…” Kelsey stayed on her knees, licking and sucking Omar more. She cleaned all the semen off him, where it had dripped out of her.
He let her know his appreciation, but his cock barely rose. She would have to wait.
They cleaned up the couch, and then cuddled in bed, talking. Kelsey occasionally reached for Omar’s cock, giving it a few strokes. When it finally seemed ready to respond, she repositioned herself and began to suck him again.
“You don’t have to,” Omar said.
“I want to.”
“But…”
“I want to.”
And Kelsey really did. She enjoyed the response her husband gave her, knowing that, though he was barely moving, he was reacting, taking this in.
She liked it, not because he would get to fuck her again, that they’d have another chance for passion, but because she loved her husband.
She didn’t keep going until he came this time. She doubted that would have come quickly after his first two orgasms of the night. She rolled onto her back, and let him enter her.
Round two was slow and gentle. It was nice. She wanted to be happy with it. She had been happy with it in the past. It was exactly what a second round of sex should be. The first round could be rough and rowdy; the second, with both partners more tired, closed to being fully sated, was slower.