Nipple Play: Husband's Devotion

The scent of lavender and vanilla clung to the air, a comforting blanket against the humid summer night. I lay back on the plush king-sized bed, my body arched slightly, propped up against a silk pillow. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the curves of my breasts as they swayed gently with each breath. My husband, Michael, was beside me, his muscular frame a solid presence against my side. He’d been watching me, his dark eyes intense and hungry, a familiar glint of arousal in their depths. It wasn’t unusual for him to be this way – he was a creature of instinct, a man who found immense pleasure in my physicality. Tonight, though, something felt different, a primal urge bubbling up within me that I couldn't quite ignore. It started subtly, a flicker of awareness during his fervent kisses, a strange pull towards the very act of nurturing. The thought itself, absurd as it seemed, sent a shiver down my spine.

He shifted slightly, pulling me closer, his hand finding its way to my thick thighs. The warmth of his touch ignited a fire beneath my skin. "You look delicious," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "Those girls of yours are begging for attention." He began to fondle my breasts, his fingers tracing the delicate ridges of my nipples, teasing them with a gentle spanking. The sensation was both exhilarating and strangely comforting, like a familiar hand guiding me towards a hidden pleasure. It was then, as he leaned in, his head resting level with my chest, that the idea solidified. Feeding him. The thought felt both naughty and incredibly right. My pussy immediately began to tingle, anticipating the pleasure to come.

As if sensing my shift in focus, he pulled me closer, his grip tightening around my waist. My knees instinctively positioned themselves beneath him, providing a stable base for my body. He looked up at me, his eyes narrowed with anticipation. "You know you love this," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. "You crave it." And he was right. The image of myself, a nurturing mother feeding my beloved, filled me with a potent mix of shame and desire. It was a twisted fantasy, a perversion of natural instincts, yet it was undeniably captivating.

With a deliberate grace, I began to mount him, pulling myself onto his muscular back. The feel of his skin against mine, the heat radiating from his body, sent a wave of pleasure through me. My hands found their place on his thick thighs, supporting my weight, anticipating his next move. He responded by leaning down, tracing the contours of my hips with his fingers, a silent invitation to deeper intimacy. I squeezed my breasts gently, drawing attention to their fullness, and watched as his eyes followed every movement. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a silent conversation between two bodies united by lust and need.

“I need that wet little cunt, baby,” he growled, his voice laced with possessiveness. It wasn’t a command, but a declaration, a testament to his unwavering desire for me. The words sent a jolt through my system, intensifying the already building heat. My pussy pulsed in response, eager to meet his needs. I reached down, positioning his stiff cock between my slippery lips. The initial contact was electric, a surge of pleasure that spread through my entire body.

As we began to fuck, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, I lost myself in the sensation. His movements were powerful and demanding, each thrust sending shivers of pleasure through my core. My legs, which had been propping me up, relaxed, allowing my pussy to slide down and fully embrace his cock. The feeling was intense, overwhelming, a perfect merging of our bodies and desires. We continued to move together, lost in the rhythm of our passion, until we reached a fever pitch.

Just short of climax, Michael reached up and nudged my shoulder towards him. "Here comes my favorite part," he thought, as I leaned forward, anticipating the ultimate release. He began to lap at my nipples, his sucking wild and erratic at first, then becoming rhythmic and insistent. It was a sensation both gentle and demanding, a perfect blend of tenderness and aggression. I imagined myself as a nurturing mother, fulfilling all his needs, satisfying his every desire.

We stopped the frantic pace, allowing our bodies to rest for a moment. He climbed off, his movements slow and deliberate, and crawled up to my side, falling back onto the pillow beside me. As he did, he playfully pushed the tip of his finger slightly inside my anus, a provocative gesture that sent a fresh wave of pleasure through me. I sighed, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation, and allowed my legs to fall back into place, supporting my weight. He looked at me, his eyes filled with adoration, and whispered, “Why did we stop?” It was a question I couldn't answer, a longing for the intense pleasure we had just experienced.

My hand instinctively reached for my pussy, caressing it gently, and I watched as he began to stroke and pump his magnificent cock. He loved to see me engage in mutual masturbation, and I loved to watch him stroke and pump his magnificent cock. It was a symbiotic relationship, a dance of pleasure and satisfaction.

Then, he lowered himself onto the bed in the position I had described earlier, his neck nestled comfortably against my arm, his face turned towards my left breast. He looked up at me, a loving smile playing on his lips. I stroked my fingers through his hair and kissed him softly on the forehead, returning his affection with equal fervor. He took my titty into his mouth, simultaneously grasping his stiff cock, and the sight of it sent a wave of heat through me.

“Make that pussy feel good for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl, “Give her what she wants.” I didn’t hesitate. With a swift and decisive movement, I began to work my clit, tapping, circling, stroking with abandon. I could feel his pleasure mounting, his body tensing with each thrust. He was licking my areolas and nibbling at my nipple, lost in the sensation, completely under my control.

While my left hand caressed his face and my right worked in and out of my pussy, I grinned, relishing in the power I held over him. "Feeling a little greedy tonight, huh, babe?" I teased, watching his reaction with amusement. He nodded, his eyes gleaming with desire, confirming my suspicions. I felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that I had him exactly where I wanted him, at my side, on my tit.

Lost in the moment, I closed my eyes, tilting my head back, imagining myself as a nurturing mother feeding my sexy man. The fantasy took hold, transporting me to a place of pure bliss. I began to moan in ecstasy, my body writhing with pleasure, sending ripples of sensation through his body. It wasn’t long before he responded, his latch becoming stronger, his body tensing up in anticipation. I continued to ride the wave of my orgasm, lost in the intoxicating pleasure, when I looked over to see a creamy white stream flowing from his gorgeous cock.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with love and adoration, and said, “I love you.” Then, he laid his head down on my chest, allowing me to cradle his head in my arms. We both caught our breath, savoring the lingering sensations of our shared pleasure. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air once more, a sweet reminder of the unforgettable night we had just experienced. As I drifted off to sleep, the image of my husband, feeding me, remained vivid in my mind, a testament to the power of lust and the enduring allure of the taboo.

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