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“So what do you want for Christmas, Colin?” my wife asked me a couple of weeks before the day. I had just lost my job; we had enough saved to be OK financially for quite a while, but we were trying to cut back this year all the same. We had agreed not to spend much on each other so we could spend a little more on our 8-year-old daughter, and we were both finding it hard to find something that wasn’t a cliché. She didn’t need more perfume, and I didn’t need more ties.
I didn’t really have any ideas for myself, either, except one. So I gave her that one: “You know what I want, Wendy? I want one orgasm a day for each of the 12 days of Christmas.” I knew she wouldn’t go for it; we’d hardly touched each other in over a year. In fact we didn’t even really like each other all that much anymore; our daughter was the only reason I hadn’t left yet. But I didn’t have anything to lose; I’d stopped expecting her to say yes a long time ago, and stopped asking almost a year ago. Stopped trying, too, probably.
As I figured, she scoffed, and I laughed it off as if I’d been kidding. I told her I didn’t really need anything; she could just grab some stuff out of our closet, wrap that up and we’d pretend it was new, and that was the end of the conversation.
We had a pretty nice Christmas, actually. We managed to find a few things our daughter really wanted on sale for good prices, surprised her with a few things she hadn’t asked for, and gave each other a couple things that made us laugh, which was a nice change; we hadn’t done that much lately, either. Around 7, our daughter announced she’d had a long day and was going up to get ready for bed. Wendy went up to help, and I stayed in the family room, reading a joke book she’d bought me and eating gingerbread cookies. After a while, like every night, Wendy called down that it was my turn, and I went up to read, sing, and say good-night to our daughter.
I went back downstairs about 20 minutes later and headed for the family room again to finish the joke book. But the lights were off, and in the light from the Christmas tree I saw Wendy, lying on her side on a blanket on the floor, facing away from me and watching the fire. She was wearing a fluffy bathrobe I’d bought her a couple of Christmases ago; I’d bought it along with a lacy set of underwear, hoping to rekindle something, but she’d never worn either one before now. The robe wasn’t sexy at all, just something to keep her warm over the babydoll and panties I’d hoped to see her in back then — so I didn’t think much about seeing her in the robe. I said “Mind if I turn the light back on so I can read?” Without turning, she said, “You can … but I’ve got one more present for you if you want it.”
I said, “Sure, OK,” and sat on the blanket behind her and waited. She rolled onto her back and put her head in my lap, looked up at me and said, “Aren’t you going to unwrap me?”
You know, I almost didn’t. I had pretty well convinced myself that she just didn’t care about sex, or me, anymore, and I almost decided I’d rather not be reminded of how great our sex had always been together and then go without it for weeks or months or a year again. Finally, I thought, “What the hell, I’m tired of taking care of myself all the time, might as well.” Out loud I said something incredibly smart like, “Oh, OK, sure.” I did something smarter, though: I bent down and kissed her, then slid my hands down her shoulders and arms until I reached the belt on the robe. I loosened the belt slowly, then reached back to her shoulders and slid my hands bahis firmaları down again, this time along the narrow V of the robe’s neckline. My thumbs inside gently brushed her skin on the insides of her breasts and her stomach as I moved my hands slowly down and apart until I reached her hips, then down and to the sides to pull the robe completely open. She was naked under the robe.
Now, my wife let herself go not long after we got married. She’s not obese, but she’s a lot heavier than she should be, and I don’t find that physically attractive, never have. But she’s always had great breasts, at least in my book; the B cups she had when we met had filled out to C’s while she was pregnant and had never gone back. And it had been a long time since I’d seen any breasts at all live and in person, and there in the firelight and the glow of the tree, for the first time in a long time I didn’t care about the extra pounds. I felt a stirring in my jeans I hadn’t expected to feel for her again, and I bent down and kissed her again, more seriously this time.
I had just started to slide my hands back up her stomach toward her breasts when she rolled out from under me, tucked her knees under herself and sat on her heels facing me, the robe still open. She said, “Today’s the first day of Christmas. How do you want your orgasm?” That’s the first time I’d thought about what I had asked for since our conversation a couple of weeks earlier, and the stirring in my jeans stopped stirring and started stiffening.
I knew what I wanted: I wanted her mouth, and I wanted to come down her throat. She gives fantastic blowjobs, taking her time, licking everywhere, and somehow doing an incredible variety of tricks with her tongue even when she’s got all of me in her mouth. But after all this time, I didn’t want to be selfish, and I didn’t want to ask her for something she might not be emotionally ready to do. So I said, “You’re the one giving the present. Your choice.”
She looked at me a little mischievously and said, “Good answer.” She lay on her back again, but with her head on a pillow this time instead of in my lap. She took my hand and pulled me over to her, guiding me until I understood where she wanted me: kneeling over her breasts.
Then she started fondling my balls, tracing light circles with a fingertip at first, then pinching my scrotum gently between a thumb and finger and rolling the skin back and forth. Next she traced her finger up the underside of my shaft, over the tip and back down the top. “We need a little lubrication,” she said, picking her head up off the pillow. I moved forward eagerly, and she took all of my 6 inches in one fast motion, then came back up slowly, licking everywhere she could on the way. Then she pushed me back and started in with her hand again, rubbing my now glistening frenulum and head, then grasping my shaft and starting in with some serious stroking. After licking the fingers of her other hand, she reached under me and started lightly caressing the space between my balls and my ass, which she knows I love — more so when she used to do it with her tongue, but a wet finger is great, too. She traced upward with those fingers to make light circles around my ass while keeping up a good steady stroke with her other hand.
I felt myself building to climax and tried to stop the stroking, wanting it to last longer. She kept going. I moaned a little and said, “I’m gonna come …”, and she said, “I want you to come on my breasts. I’m going to keep stroking you until you cover my breasts with your kaçak iddaa hot cum. I want to watch you spurt all over me.”
She’s never been much for dirty talk, and hearing her talk that way was all it took. She had barely finished saying “all over me” when she said “Oh yeah, just like that!” as she got what she wanted. I hadn’t come in a couple of weeks — I really had grown tired of taking care of it myself — and she got a big load. She aimed me a little differently between spurts, getting some on each breast, including one stream that landed across her left nipple. One spurt made a puddle right at the base of her throat; another puddle collected between her breasts. I thought I was coming forever; I know it was just a handjob, but it was the first one in a very long time, and it was great.
She kept stroking me lightly with one hand and caressing my balls, my butt, and the space between them with the other hand a little longer, then gave my shaft a good firm milking motion, squeezing out one last drop of cum. She rubbed my cock on her right nipple, the one that didn’t have any cum on it yet, to coat it, too. Then she looked up at me with more mischief in her eyes and said, “Does it have to be only one a day?”
I said, “You’re the one giving the present, it’s up to you.”
“Well, this next part’s for me,” she said, pushing me toward her hips. “I want you in me.”
I had started to soften up, but she opened her legs and rubbed the head of my cock between her pussy lips, and feeling how wet and slippery she was started the blood flowing again. She guided me in and soon engulfed me; it seemed she’d needed this for a long time, too, because she immediately arched her back, raised her hips and grabbed my butt, holding me in as deeply as possible, and she let out a long, low moan.
I’m still not sure why I did what I did next. Yes, I’ve always loved licking and sucking her breasts. Yes, I’ve always known she’s loved it, too; she even used to come that way sometimes, just from that. And yes, it had been a long time since I’d sucked her breasts, and I wanted to do it badly. But then, they were covered in my cum. I’d never tasted cum, and never wanted to. I don’t know, something about being with her for the first time in so long, fearing it might be the last time in a long time again, being inside her so soon after coming, maybe being inside her without a condom for the first time since our daughter was born, I just knew I wanted those breasts in my mouth and I didn’t care. I flicked her right nipple with my tongue.
Wendy gasped and picked her head up. She saw my tongue dancing around her nipple, pushing that drop of cum around. She drew in a sharp breath, then bit her lower lip; then she said, in a voice sultrier than I’d ever heard from her, “Oh my god, baby, lick your cum off my tits!”
I was so surprised that I stopped and pulled my head up to look at her questioningly. She said, “Do it, baby! Lick it up!” and pushed my head back down. I licked up the one small drop on that nipple, sucked it up really; there was so little I didn’t notice more than a little salty taste, and I kept licking and sucking her nipple. “There’s plenty more, baby, let me watch you lick me clean!” she said.
This new side of her made me hornier than ever, and the way she was rocking her hips and squeezing her pussy around my cock made we willing to try just about anything. So I started at the lower end of the spurt of my cum that had draped across her left breast, and I licked right along that spurt until I got to her left kaçak bahis nipple. By that time I had a pretty good amount built up on my tongue, and I got my first real taste of cum, and the first real feel of it on my tongue. The taste didn’t bother me at all, but the texture was about enough to make me stop … until Wendy whispered, barely audible, “Oh my god, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” That was all the encouragement I needed. I looked up at her and smiled with my tongue out and covered in my own cum, and the look in her eyes gave me an idea. I kissed her, deeply, letting the cum drain from my mouth into hers. We played with my cum as our tongues probed and danced. After a bit she swallowed; I admit that was kind of a relief, since I didn’t want to swallow it myself and didn’t know what else to do with it. Then she grabbed both sides of my head, looked me right in the eye, and breathed, “More!”
I licked up the rest of that spurt across her left breast and up to her shoulder, and kissed her again. Then I cleaned up a spurt across the right breast, and the puddle between her breasts, kissing her after each one, all the while grinding my hips into hers. It took three licks and three kisses to lap up the pool at the base of her throat and feed it to her, and she just kept kissing me more and more passionately each time and eventually swallowing every drop.
“Is there any more?” she asked, almost plaintively.
“I think we got it all,” I said.
“Then fuck me,” she said. “Hard. Now.”
I raised her legs up and planted my arms straight up and down beside her breasts with my elbows inside her knees, our favorite position back in the day, and I pounded my cock into her slippery pussy with long, fast strokes. She had been right on the edge already from the action of my mouth and tongue on her breasts, the slow fucking we were doing the whole time, and maybe from the novelty of the cum play, and she rocketed to an orgasm after only a few strokes. I eased up to let her recover, but she yelled, “Oh god don’t stop, don’t ever stop!” so I went right back to pounding her for all I was worth. Instead of coming down from her orgasm, she rode the crest of the wave right into a deeper one, and a few minutes later had a third as I exploded inside her.
I released her legs and collapsed on top of her, then we rolled onto our sides with our legs intertwined and my softening cock still inside her. We kissed some more, and caressed each other’s faces and bodies for a while, and we must’ve fallen asleep; I woke up some time later, still entangled with her, and found that the fire was almost out and I was a little cold. I wrapped the blanket around both of us and went back to sleep. We both awoke in the middle of the night and went upstairs to bed so our daughter wouldn’t find us that way in the morning, and we slept cuddled together for the first time in years.
In the morning, before our daughter was awake, Wendy said, “I hope I didn’t make you do something you didn’t want to do last night, cleaning me up with your tongue like that. Was it awful?”
“No, it wasn’t awful,” I replied. “I can’t say I exactly liked the way it tasted or felt on my tongue, but I sure liked your reaction!”
“I never thought about having you do that, and before last night I probably would’ve said I wouldn’t like it. But watching you do that, knowing you would do that to please me, and then tasting you while you were in me? Un-fucking-believable!” she said. Then, a little shyly, she said, “It’s given me a couple of ideas. Are you willing to play along?”
Smiling, I said, “I love this side of you, and I will do just about anything to help bring it out.”
“Good,” she said, smiling back. “Because today is the second day of Christmas.”
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