Lost in Her Embrace: A New Thrill

The past three or four years have been extra sexually intimate for my wife Beth and me. The timing of this is no coincidence, and readers of my earlier stories—with a more challenging theme—may be happy to learn how we’ve been reaping the benefits of getting my act together.

We had a memorable evening last weekend. Younger friends of ours were getting married, and Beth, who plays cello, was part of the string quartet, which performed for the prelude and ceremony. (The reception featured a good local band.) I’m a feminist, but I don’t mind admitting that if you happen to have a relationship with a female cellist, the way she sits while playing could drive you wild with lust. Beth knows this about me and has, on occasion prohibited me from being in the same room at home while she rehearses.

Although I was careful to tell her that I was looking forward to hearing her play, I was also really anticipating getting to watch her. This was especially true because of the venue, as we, like many couples I imagine, often have great sex after attending a wedding.

We arrived early at the church so the quartet could acclimate to the acoustics and rehearse. They set up in the usual arrangement of a tight semicircle, with the cello on the right. I wouldn’t be sitting as close when the service started, but for now, I was two or three rows from the front, almost in front of Beth. Two people were behind the quartet, readying the altar, but I was the only one in front of them.

As the musicians got ready, unpacking and arranging everything, Beth caught my eye. I saw her start adjusting her dress a little, and she leaned and spun her cello on its endpin to do this, which more or less blocked her colleagues’ view of what she did next. Making sure she still had my attention, she quickly raised her dress over her left knee and then briefly opened it so only I could see. I expect to see her creamy thighs and maybe white panties, but instead, I had a quick view of her full, dark bush. My cock stirred right away. I was amazed she did this. She looked away from me, embarrassed.

The group started rehearsing, other people entered the nave, and soon the service began. But the image of her crotch was seared into my memory. (I’m so thankful she’s never had the desire to shave more than what she feels is necessary for a swimsuit.)

I’d never been so jealous of her cello before. I couldn’t get the thought of her bare pussy out of my mind. It simply floored me that I was sitting in a crowded church, Beth in front, legs spread open around her cello, her pussy open to the air under her dress. I could concentrate on little else. My cock stayed hard, and I felt my mouth salivate.

I’m always impressed with a musician’s dexterity. In addition to the picture of Beth’s hairy crotch in my mind, her hands mesmerized me, especially her left hand on the fingerboard. Her long slender fingers are sexy to me. After a while, my mind put these images together, and I had fleeting moments of imagining her fingers on her pussy, running through her brunette pubic hair, stroking herself. Soon, I found it hard to think of anything else.

Afterward, I told her truthfully that seeing her flash her bush was the most tantalizing thing that ever happened to me. (I didn’t mention my reverie about her fingers.)

She said she saw me a few times during the ceremony, and that I had my bedroom eyes. It’s not what most people mean by that phrase. I don’t look like I’m trying to seduce anyone. My bedroom eyes are the eyes of someone stupified by lust. Completely in her sexual thrall, I’m powerless to look away. My pupils dilate, I stare, my mouth is often agape. Momentarily, I cannot do anything, think of anything but beauty and desire. (I’m often susceptible to her cleavage, too.)

We enjoyed the reception, with many friends in attendance. Her lack of panties stayed on my mind the entire night, especially as we danced. (Alas, we were seated apart, though at the same table, to aid in conversation with others.) And I couldn’t shake the idea and image of her fingering herself. It drove me wild.

Soon we found ourselves home. Our kids were asleep when we arrive there, so we had a little freedom in our bedroom. Both clean and ready for bed, we kissed deeply, and then I told Beth what I wanted tonight. I’d been thinking about it all evening.

We’ve enjoyed just about every carnal and oral permutation of genitals, mouth, and hands, every combination of kneeling, sitting, standing, and laying; sexual fluids wind up on our skin, deep into her body, or hungrily ingested by her and me. Yet there’s one thing we’ve never tried.

“I want to watch you make yourself cum.”

Among those permutations above, we’ve both touched ourselves to orgasm in the other’s company. But this happened long ago, and it occurred while we were both lying down under the covers, me (twice, I think) while she fondled my balls, her (again only a few times) while I sucked and licked her nipples. We’ve not done so together, above the covers, with the other explicitly watching.

She hesitated only a little.

“Only if you do it, too. I want you to watch me.”

Fair is fair, and, honestly, it sounded exciting. I’ve sometimes held myself as she’s blown me, but this would be very different. I could tell raising the level of this kind of intimacy excited us both.

The low lighting was low, perfect for this. We got naked, and Beth leaned back against the headboard, legs spread. Although her breasts were visible, she had the covers pulled up to her waist—alright for now. I took the lead, kneeling between her legs but above the covers. I started touching myself, playing with my cock, gently pumping, rubbing… just getting started. She watched me intently.

Soon, her hands under the covers began to move a little. I waited, touching myself and watching her. Although our eyes met occasionally, we watched each other’s hands for the most part.

Just as I decided to gently move the covers off her, she did it herself, exposing her hairy pussy. I groaned. First, she simply combed through her full, luscious pubic hair, just like I pictured it at the wedding. I loved how my fantasy had come true. Soon I saw her parting her brunette hair to expose her pink slit. It felt unbelievably intimate and intense to me.

She ran a finger, with its short, unpainted nail, along her pink slit again and again. I could see how wet she was getting. Every so often, she subtly entered her pussy, pushing her finger a short distance up inside her. Mesmerizing.

I wanted to keep increasing the stakes, too, loving the progression she’d been making. My right hand remained on my cock, pumping it, its fingers rubbing my frenulum. Now I slowly move my left hand to my balls, watching her watch me. I rubbed my sack with that hand, lifting it and rubbing underneath. I keep myself trimmed, so my own hair down there is not too long. Masturbating alone, I might imagine Beth getting me wet with her mouth. I simply and only touched myself as an act in itself for my enjoyment and for Beth to watch. I imagine she felt the same way.

We continued for a long while, increasing the tension, building ourselves up, then backing away. We both wanted this to last.

Beth started more rigorously touching herself now, stroking her slit with more pressure and pushing her finger farther inside herself. Then, her fingertip moved up to her small, hard clit. She likes stroking its length with one finger, alternating with using two to sandwich her hood and gently knead it. Soon she’s using three fingers to move in small circles over her clit. It surprised me how inexact her movements seemed, how fast and forceful.

We settled into a routine. When she got extra active or introduced a new element, I backed off, only lazily touching myself. When my turn for intensity came, she slowed down and focused on watching me.

I had taken my hand away from my cock, wanting to keep that act in reserve. Deciding to show her what I do sometimes when I masturbate, I wetly licked the first few fingers of my right hand. She watched me rub the wetness under my cockhead along the sensitive frenulum. My cock responded with a jump, as if it yearned for more. If alone, I’d imagine Beth getting me wet with her mouth. I repeated the action several times, getting my cockhead wet all along the ridge. Stealing a downward glance, I saw it glisten a little in the light.

In for a penny, in for a pound: now I licked along the whole length of my index finger and thumb. I put them in my mouth repeatedly, making sure they were abundantly wet with my saliva—almost dripping. Then I took those two digits and form a circle, and Beth watched me push the circle over my cock. It felt amazing, just the right combination of tight friction and moisture.

We continued for a long while, increasing the tension, building ourselves up, then backing away. We both wanted this to last.

Beth started more rigorously touching herself now, stroking her slit with more pressure and pushing her finger farther inside herself. Then, her fingertip moved up to her small, hard clit. She likes stroking its length with one finger, alternating with using two to sandwich her hood and gently knead it. Soon she’s using three fingers to move in small circles over her clit. It surprised me how inexact her movements seemed, how fast and forceful.

We settled into a routine. When she got extra active or introduced a new element, I backed off, only lazily touching myself. When my turn for intensity came, she slowed down and focused on watching me.

I had taken my hand away from my cock, wanting to keep that act in reserve. Deciding to show her what I do sometimes when I masturbate, I wetly licked the first few fingers of my right hand. She watched me rub the wetness under my cockhead along the sensitive frenulum. My cock responded with a jump, as if it yearned for more. If alone, I’d imagine Beth getting me wet with her mouth. I repeated the action several times, getting my cockhead wet all along the ridge. Stealing a downward glance, I saw it glisten a little in the light.

In for a penny, in for a pound: now I licked along the whole length of my index finger and thumb. I put them in my mouth repeatedly, making sure they were abundantly wet with my saliva—almost dripping. Then I took those two digits and form a circle, and Beth watched me push the circle over my cock. It felt amazing, just the right combination of tight friction and moisture.

We continued for a long while, increasing the tension, building ourselves up, then backing away. We both wanted this to last.

Beth started more rigorously touching herself now, stroking her slit with more pressure and pushing her finger farther inside herself. Then, her fingertip moved up to her small, hard clit. She likes stroking its length with one finger, alternating with using two to sandwich her hood and gently knead it. Soon she’s using three fingers to move in small circles over her clit. It surprised me how inexact her movements seemed, how fast and forceful.

We settled into a routine. When she got extra active or introduced a new element, I backed off, only lazily touching myself. When my turn for intensity came, she slowed down and focused on watching me.

I had taken my hand away from my cock, wanting to keep that act in reserve. Deciding to show her what I do sometimes when I masturbate, I wetly licked the first few fingers of my right hand. She watched me rub the wetness under my cockhead along the sensitive frenulum. My cock responded with a jump, as if it yearned for more. If alone, I’d imagine Beth getting me wet with her mouth. I repeated the action several times, getting my cockhead wet all along the ridge. Stealing a downward glance, I saw it glisten a little in the light.

In for a penny, in for a pound: now I licked along the whole length of my index finger and thumb. I put them in my mouth repeatedly, making sure they were abundantly wet with my saliva—almost dripping. Then I took those two digits and form a circle, and Beth watched me push the circle over my cock. It felt amazing, just the right combination of tight friction and moisture.

We continued for a long while, increasing the tension, building ourselves up, then backing away. We both wanted this to last.

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