His Twisted Touch

The Vegas heat clung to everything, a shimmering haze above the neon-drenched streets and the opulent casinos. It was my husband’s 40th birthday, and I’d planned a surprise trip to indulge his particular tastes. He’d always been a bit of a pervert, a connoisseur of the unconventional, and frankly, I found it rather amusing. The attention was welcome, a playful dance between us that kept things exciting. Occasionally, I’d give him a small blowjob, a quick, intimate exchange that served as a prelude to more intense pleasures. I never really cared for the salty tang of his pre-cum, preferring the full experience, so I’d usually stop sucking when it got too overwhelming. It was simply a way to please him, a small part of our twisted dynamic.

But this year, I wanted to go all the way. I’d been secretly harboring a desire for a “full” blowjob, the kind that included swallowing the results. Armed with a newly purchased book on oral sex and a discreet dildo for practice, I dedicated myself to mastering the techniques. The book offered some fascinating insights, particularly regarding suppressing the gag reflex, which had always been my biggest hurdle. To my surprise, it also delved into the world of “deep throating,” the act of inserting the entire erect penis into the mouth while maintaining the head within the throat. It sounded audacious, almost unbelievable, yet the book detailed the steps with surprising clarity. After weeks of diligent practice, I found myself able to navigate the sensation without experiencing overwhelming discomfort. The dildo helped me get used to the feeling, allowing me to push the head back into my throat with relative ease.

Vegas, with its intoxicating atmosphere and adult-only establishments, seemed like the perfect setting for this particular indulgence. We stayed at the Mandalay Bay, a sprawling resort that catered to those seeking discreet pleasure. The adults-only pool area was a haven of sun-kissed skin and quiet contemplation. It offered a welcome respite from the bustling city outside, complete with comfortable chaise lounges and attentive staff. The lack of children was a major draw, as was the availability of topless sunbathing – something I’d come to enjoy, finding it empowering and freeing. My husband was certainly amused by my newfound confidence, delighting in my willingness to shed my inhibitions and embrace the sun. We spent the afternoon lounging by the pool, soaking up the rays and sipping cocktails, occasionally exchanging glances and playful smiles. I’d quickly untied my top and placed it in my pool bag, adding to the atmosphere of carefree abandon.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the pool deck, a sense of anticipation filled the air. I was in the mood, fueled by the day’s sun and a few stiff drinks that had lowered my inhibitions. Stripping naked and pulling down my husband’s shorts, I felt a surge of excitement. A can of whipped cream was retrieved from the room and generously applied to his shaft, transforming it into a glistening, firm testament to his arousal. Looking up at him, I flashed a mischievous smile and declared, “Happy Birthday, blow job boy.”

I dropped to my knees, gently pushing him into my mouth. The whipped cream tasted decadent, masking the salty tang of his imminent release. He moaned in anticipation, sensing the change in our dynamic. In a matter of seconds, he was fully hard, and I began a rapid series of rhythmic slides, both inserting and withdrawing him from my mouth. It was a far cry from the gentle exchanges we’d shared before, a passionate pursuit of complete pleasure.

He kept whispering, “You’re deep throating me!” – a realization of the lengths I was willing to go to satisfy his desires. I paused for a moment, savoring the sensation, before slowly pushing the entire shaft into my mouth. The head nestled comfortably within my throat, a welcome change from the artificial sensation of the dildo. I found the feeling surprisingly pleasant, a comfortable intimacy that transcended the usual boundaries of our encounters.

My husband’s excitement was palpable, his body convulsing with each thrust. I held him in my mouth for a few moments, adjusting my grip to maintain control, before resuming my rhythmic movements. The training with the dildo had paid off handsomely; the gag reflex was minimal, allowing me to fully immerse myself in the experience. Once, I choked slightly, and my husband immediately expressed concern, worried about my comfort. He knew that my pleasure was paramount, and he couldn’t enjoy himself if I were experiencing any discomfort. He suggested pulling out, but I quickly grabbed his ass and yanked his member as far into my mouth as possible, ensuring he wouldn’t be able to resist. The head was deep within my throat, and I felt the intense pressure of his arousal.

As I continued to lick his balls, which were now incredibly close, his body began to tremble with anticipation. A few more strokes of his shaft, and he finally erupted, a torrent of salty pleasure pouring from my mouth. I sucked him harder, savoring the moment, and deliberately allowed a little dribble to escape the side, a playful reminder of the experience we were sharing. Knowing his desire for complete submersion, I swallowed the entire load, the salty liquid a testament to our shared intimacy. The look on his face was one of pure bliss, a testament to the depth of his satisfaction. He nearly passed out from the sheer pleasure, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

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His Twisted Touch

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