Celestial Slaps: Guess What's Next?

The celestial earth beneath me felt both exquisite and terrifying. Naked on our king-sized bed, the scent of lavender and sandalwood clinging to the sheets, I watched her, a vision in silk and lace, poised above my trembling flesh. Her lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile, a silent question hanging in the humid air. Will she or won’t she? The anticipation was a delicious torment, a primal hum vibrating through my veins.

She did. A slow, deliberate slide of her tongue across my quivering flesh, a promise whispered on the heat of her breath. As the head of my shaft reached the back of her throat, I felt the exquisite, agonizing pleasure of rhythmic sucking. It was an intense, overwhelming sensation, a complete surrender to her control. My mind began to blur, the edges of reality softening, dissolving into the intoxicating rhythm of her touch.

Then, she began to pull me back, slowly, deliberately, toward the front of her erotic mouth. Her teeth and tongue danced across the engorged glans, a frenzied, passionate exploration. Her nails traced patterns along my balls, digging into the sensitive skin, while her tongue glided up and down the belly of my rigid phallus, each stroke a miniature explosion of pleasure. I was lost, utterly consumed, buried deep within the depths of her mouth, a willing captive in her sensual kingdom. The feeling of being so desperately, exquisitely loved was overwhelming, pushing me to the very edge of delirium.

She didn’t often indulge in this particular pleasure, not even after years of marital bliss. But when she did…it was a revelation. A volcanic eruption of sensation, a primal roar of desire. I could feel the tell-tale signs, the tightening in my testes, the fire spreading outward from the base of my penis, the gradual shutting down of my brain as I succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure. Just a few more strokes of her hand and mouth, and the fountains of sperm would be spurting all over.

Then, she popped me out. Sharp nails continued their agonizing play on my tingling testicles, a brutal, beautiful torture. She opened her mouth, just inches from my aching tip, but alas, she spoke and fellated no more. Chris…Honey…Remember what day today is? A playful lick, a momentary pause, before the torment resumed.

Wedding anniversary? No, two months away. Unngghhhh!!!! Your birthday? Aaaiiieeeehhhhhh!!!! My birthday? Wwwooo-woooo-woooo….!!! You guessed it, with each wrong answer, my penis was sucked deeply into her throat, drawn to the point of delirium, and then abruptly withdrawn from paradise as she sensed the impending explosion. Then blowing gently of the wet phallus head, making the agony even more acute.

Once I realized there was a pattern here – not a particularly difficult deduction after being driven temporarily insane – I understood that I had only to keep inventing meaningless dates in order to prolong my stay in oral paradise. Your parents’ anniversary? Unnhhhhhpphhhh!!! Any of the kids’ birthdays? (I listed each of the eight children in turn) My parents’ anniversary? Wwhhooaaaa!!! Your birthday? Oh, sorry we did that one already.

By now, she had stripped off her own clothes, and Angela was gleefully working over her clitoris and vulva lips with the free hand, even as her mouth and fingers continued their heavenly torture of my swollen-beyond-belief penis. The dog’s birthday? Oooffff!!!

I decided it was time to end my misery before I had a massive coronary and the EMTs had to come and do bedroom CPR. I know, I know! Today is the anniversary of the day I proposed to you!!! Bingo! You win the grand prize, Big Boy! And without another word, she had given one final, wet slurp, moved to straddle me with those five-feet-eleven-inch legs, and placed her vulva at the base of my quaking purple monster. Now, she grabbed my pole and slowly pointed it up to the ceiling.

It was only a matter of seconds after she impaled her pouting vagina onto my waiting penis until we were both in the relentless grip of an indescribably powerful climax. Erupting, squirting, pumping, gasping, sweating, panting, squeezing, scratching, biting, jiggling, suckling, groaning. On and on and on.

As my consciousness faded to gray and then black, it struck me that I had no idea when I popped the question way back then just how wonderful our sex life would be. Or just how glad I would be that we waited till our wedding night to have our first time with sex.

Oh, there had been no doubt in my mind from our very first date that Angela was the girl I was going to marry. But somehow that precipitous plunge from the hilltop of being best friends over the waterfall of being head-and-heels in love had left her a little more confused than I was. And so a months-long period of wooing, talking, kissing, meeting prospective in-laws, even shopping for diamonds “just for fun” was required before she realized I was in this relationship for keeps. And that life was about to change forever, no turning back.

We were now all set to start our senior year together at the Christian college we attended. Classes began on Monday, and once school officially started, there was a ban on alcohol. I had to act fast. I sent a “Dear Jane” note to her room, suggesting in no uncertain terms that our relationship could no longer go on, that we both needed a change, that I’d been praying that God would give me some sort of sign if we should keep seeing each other, that she needed someone who was able to be more than a “boyfriend” (all true but deceptively worded for my little joke), and that she deserved far better than me (remains very true!), and… (turn page over)…WILL YOU MARRY ME?

She was to meet me at midnight in the town park to give her response, bringing with her the little bottle of wine I knew she’d stashed in her luggage if the answer was Yes, or else a rope for me to hang myself if the answer was in the negative.

Lucky for me she has both a sense of humor as well as a sexy body. Although I didn’t get to experience the Sexy part until our marriage some time after graduation, our courtship provided such a depth of non-carnal knowledge of each other, and a deepening of our mutual love, that it was the easiest most stress-free moment in the world when we finally consummated our love on the wedding night. Four times.

So now these nostalgic thoughts have breezed through my post-orgasmic brain, she has climbed off my shrinking manhood and is in need of a few more orgasms to complete her evening. My fingers settle into her vagina a little ways, find the waiting swollen place where her G-spot lies, and start to stroke in a familiar rhythm. Angela’s breath catches in her throat, a fresh wave of glowing pink blush appears across her bosoms, and her back begins to arch backward. Just as I feel the first climactic contraction forming through the velvety vagina around my knuckles, I stop the rubbing and grin wickedly. So, Angela, can you name the marriage date when we first discovered you have a G-spot?

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Celestial Slaps: Guess What's Next?

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