Blind Submission: A Wet Dream Desire

The rain hammered against the windows of the small motel room, mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. It wasn't the storm outside that had me so wired, though. It was her. My wife, Sarah, and the primal, insistent need for her touch, her lips, her body, had taken over. She knew this craving, this deep-seated desire that clung to me like a second skin. Tonight, I was going to indulge it, completely, without reservation.

We'd been married for five years, a comfortable, loving union built on mutual respect and a shared appreciation for pleasure. But beneath the surface of our routine existed this undeniable, almost violent, urge for oral submission. I'd never voiced it directly, fearing vulnerability, but she always seemed to understand, anticipating my desires with an unnerving intuition. It started subtly, a casual brush of her fingers against my thigh, a lingering glance at my arousal, a whispered suggestion that sent shivers down my spine. Now, it was time to move beyond the teasing and embrace the raw, unbridled passion.

I moved slowly, deliberately, towards her. The cheap motel bed felt scratchy against my skin as I slid beneath the covers, pulling her close. Her scent, a blend of vanilla and something uniquely hers, filled my senses, intensifying the heat building within me. Her eyes, dark and knowing, met mine, and I saw a flicker of anticipation in their depths. It was a silent acknowledgment, a shared understanding of the pleasure to come.

First, I reached for her hands, gently taking hold of her palms. My fingertips danced across her skin, tickling and teasing, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. It was our signal, our silent agreement to abandon inhibitions and surrender to the moment. Her hands instinctively moved towards my pants, her nails digging into the denim as she began to unbuckle and unzip, her movements swift and practiced. The cool night air rushed in as the buttons popped open, revealing my exposed flesh. There was a primal satisfaction in this act, a stripping away of pretense and a welcome return to the basics.

With the pants discarded, she leaned closer, her breath warm against my chest. Her head dipped towards my cock, her mouth opening wide, revealing a pink, glistening interior. It was a breathtaking sight, a blatant invitation that I couldn't resist. I rose swiftly, fueled by the surge of adrenaline, and she began to engulf my head, pulling gently at first, teasing the sensitive skin of my shaft. The anticipation built, a crescendo of heat and lust, as she drew closer and closer. Her lips brushed against my flesh, sending shivers of pleasure through me.

As she pulled further, her grip tightened, her tongue exploring every inch of my head. The feeling was exquisite, a perfect blend of dominance and submission. My body arched in response, a silent plea for her to continue. She didn't disappoint. With a determined push and pull, she managed to insert her entire mouth, her tongue sliding deep into my head, coating my shaft with a layer of velvety smoothness. The pressure increased, forcing a build-up of tension, until finally, the release came. A torrent of semen erupted from my body, a hot, viscous stream that filled her mouth.

It wasn't a gentle release; it was a full, powerful expulsion of all my pent-up desire. The sensation was overwhelming, a primal surge of pleasure that left me gasping for air. As the last drops of fluid drained from my body, she expertly maneuvered her head, pulling me deeper into her embrace. It was time for the next act. She grabbed my balls, her grip firm and confident, and began to lick them with an insistent rhythm. Her tongue traced every curve and crevice, extracting every last drop of pleasure. Simultaneously, she worked her way down my perineum, her touch both gentle and stimulating, intensifying the pleasure radiating through my body.

Her hand then moved to my shaft, pressing down hard to extract more fluid. She used her thumb and fingers to create a rhythmic, deep groove, guiding the release with precision. As she worked, she applied a generous amount of pre-cum, lubricating my shaft for the next stage. It was an act of pure indulgence, a celebration of our shared desire.

Finally, the moment arrived for the serious sucking. I held her head firmly in my hands, maintaining a constant pressure that helped to deepen her penetration. She responded with a primal moan, her body convulsing with pleasure. Her lips moved rhythmically against my head, drawing out every last bit of sensation. The air filled with the sounds of our shared ecstasy – moans, sighs, and the rustle of sheets as we moved together in unison. We plunged deeper, pushing past any limits of comfort or restraint. There was no hesitation, no fear, only the pure, unadulterated pleasure of the moment.

After a few minutes of intense stimulation, I signaled that I was ready for the next phase. "Shoot," she whispered, her voice breathless with anticipation. Holding her head tight, I let loose another wave of semen, this time unleashing a more forceful eruption. The sensation was even more intense than the first, a torrent of pleasure that left me weak and trembling. We continued in this manner, alternating between deep throat and focused sucking, each act more intense than the last.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, I felt my body begin to relax. My cock, now flaccid, hung limp against the sheets. Sarah gently removed her head, licking off any traces of semen from my lips and cheeks. She pulled up my pants, our bodies intertwined in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets. The rain continued to fall outside, but inside the motel room, there was only warmth, intimacy, and the lingering memory of our shared pleasure.

Looking at her, I realized that this wasn't just about satisfying my own desire. It was about connecting with her on a deeper level, sharing an experience that transcended the physical. It was about acknowledging the power of our love and the boundless potential of our bodies. As we stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, I knew that this was just the beginning of our explorations, a testament to the enduring strength of our bond. The act of drinking my semen had released a torrent of stress, a release from the constraints of daily life. It had also served as a potent symbol of adoration, a clear declaration of my love and devotion. It was a perfect balance, a harmonious blend of pleasure and affection. And as I leaned in to wipe the last traces of semen from her lips, I knew that we would continue to indulge in these shared moments of ecstasy, forever bound together by our insatiable desires and unwavering love.

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