Her Secret, My Pleasure

I love knowing my wife is still a little shy about spreading her legs open in my face. Beth and I have been married for 14 years, so it’s exciting that she still feels the thrill of being naked and vulnerable for me. I’ve often assured her how desirable she is and how I love everything about her. This makes her shyness exciting since it means she knows showing me her pussy is still a big deal. Our kids are with her parents tonight, so we have the house to ourselves. After dinner and a shower, Beth enters our bedroom wearing only her panties. She sits back against her pillow, and I kneel in front of her, wanting to take my time. I start massaging her feet, rubbing away the day’s tension, signaling that this night is for her. I’m happy when she lets me kiss her feet, as she doesn’t always want to spend time on this. Soon I move to her toes, sucking her pinky between my lips and into my mouth, in and out, wetly. I gradually move up their ranks, sometimes two toes, but mostly one. By the time I get to her big toe, it’s unmistakable: I’m mimicking her, sucking her toe like she sucks my cock. I love hearing her moan. Next, I move to her other foot, going to her toes right away but taking my time on them.

I think of how a mother’s breast milk lets down from her baby’s first few moments of sucking on her nipple and imagine what’s happening to Beth right now, her vagina getting wet from me sucking her toes. I love building up the suspense, but now she has me take off her panties, and she hesitantly opens her legs. We have a bedside lamp on low, so I’m rewarded with the view between her legs: white thighs, brunette full pubic hair, pink pussy lips. I love the contrast between her smooth white skin, dark crinkly hair, and wet pink slit. I lie down on the bed, my face a few inches from her crotch, and close my eyes in order to enjoy her scent fully. I’ve always loved the smell of her, sometimes faint, sometimes stronger, always intimate. I don’t wish to claim my wife is fortunate in having me as her husband, but if there is one trait that perhaps sets me a little apart from some men, it’s that I seem incapable of getting used to this. Every time I see her pussy, I go right back to the same thoughts I had the first time. I just can’t get over it.

Her pussy lips are mostly closed; I like thinking she feels a little vulnerable. I lick her, running my tongue softly and shallowly from the bottom of her slit up to her clit. I don’t get much of her taste, though, and hardly any wetness. I nibble her smooth thighs a little, brushing my face against her pubic hair. It takes more teasing and gentle licks, but soon I see my goal: her labia more fully opened.

In I go, running my tongue up inside her, deeper this time, and a new world opens up, my tongue flooding with sensations. No more of the somewhat dry, hairy, closed texture; my tongue now travels in her wet, smooth groove. It’s wet like her mouth and tongue but different in shape. I feel the soft walls of the groove, thankful her lips have generously opened, allowing me in to feel and taste her private wetness. And that taste! It floods my senses, the complex, savory, and salty flavor of her pussy she’s spread open in my face. It’s like colorful fireworks in my mouth. I still can’t get over it.

I give her long, wet, full licks up her pink slit, savoring the taste and feel. To give my cock more room, I adjust my boxers. But I keep them on. I try to have a night just for Beth every once in a while to try to even things out. She usually insists otherwise, wanting to make me happy too, but I’m hoping to do such a good job tonight that we fall asleep afterward. I want to eat her out from my favorite position now, kneeling on the floor, right at the bed’s edge. Beth moves to the edge of the bed, perpendicular to it, her bottom almost hanging over. She’s on her back, legs bent and up in the air, her knees almost to her face. She holds her legs spread open. Sometimes she feels too vulnerable like this, but I love the sight: smooth white skin, dark crinkly hair, and glistening wet pink slit.

Kneeling, I lower my face into her crotch, knowing what she likes. Most of the time, my tongue is flat, licking up and into her wet pink slit. Sometimes, though, I move my head up and down, my tongue going in and out of her. I wetly push against her clit with my upper lip when my mouth moves down. We spend many minutes like this, with one of us occasionally moaning. When Beth’s legs tire, she scooches back a little, lowering her feet onto the bed again. I know it’s time to settle in now and find a rhythm.

I know how she likes the pace and to tease her under, above, and along the sides of her clit. I only tongue her actual clit every once in a while, as if by accident. The room becomes quiet, just the wet sounds of me using my tongue and lips on her. Some nights, I use a finger inside her or rub her nipples, but not tonight. It’s just her pussy and my mouth. I stay mostly at her clit now, tonguing it a little more insistently and harder. She has subtly started moving her hips, pushing her pussy into my mouth. “Oh, this feels so good. I’m such a lucky woman… I don’t think many guys like this as much as you.” I smile to myself at how far I’ve come. This comment, seemingly one of comparison, would have caused me to obsessively spiral four years ago. While Beth’s pussy has been my one and only, she spread her legs for one other man before me, her fiance Alex. In the first six months of our marriage, after we became sexual, Beth made the mistake of oversharing with me. (I take fault in this, too—I confessed to her that sometimes hearing her talk about her sexuality was exciting to me.) Perhaps she thought it was very adult, or that it would bond us, or she was simply too giddy and thus guilty of loose lips. Most of what I know about her sexual past comes from that oversharing, and I used to be haunted by it.

I wrote about her past sexuality during her engagement with Alex and the gift from God that helped me accept it in my first story. When Beth’s past sexuality does come up—rarely—God’s grace allows me to find her even more desirable, and it brings us very close together. I can celebrate my wife’s oneness, her complete sexual being, and her mystery. Tonight is just about us; I intended for this story to just be about us. But I’ll give an example from Beth’s past to show the transformation which God’s grace makes possible. She once shared a little about her first time being eaten out. (Yikes!) Just when I thought she had finished talking, she laughed and confessed to some uncertainty about her actions afterward. I can still hear her soft voice. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I was… pretty sloppy. I just put my panties back on.” I used to get depressed about this, fighting it, bottling it up, not letting it go. Now, years can go by before it comes to mind, and if I do happen to think about it, I love it. I love that Beth used such intimate language with me, knowing the image it must have evoked. I’ve fantasized about this detail, picturing my future wife pulling her panties up over her wet, sloppy pussy. It seems like the more graphic the detail and the harder it is to sugarcoat, the easier it is to celebrate. I think of God being amused with me: Oh, you can’t forget it? You won’t let it go? You can’t, more respectfully, leave it between the two of them (and Me)? OK. I’ll make you picture it so naughty that you’ll have no choice but to desire her completely! Then, gracefully, the detail recedes before the much larger totality of our love. Back to the present, just the two of us, me with her pussy. My lips make a gentle wet seal against her pussy lips, and I spend most of my time on her engorged clit, sometimes softly sucking it into my mouth. Initially, with my tongue wetly moving and searching along her folds, her clit could seem elusive. But now it dominates, too large to hide, and my tongue seems almost too small. So I go a little harder, more rhythmically, asserting its presence. Eventually, I feel her legs tense, and I know it won’t be long. I wetly slide my tongue up along her clit harder now, keeping a steady rhythm. She groans, raising her ass off the bed a little, lifting her wet, sloppy crotch to my mouth. I’m so happy this lasts, her orgasm taking its time, inexorably building, hinting at a large release. And then it comes, my lovely wife moaning. It’s a big one. I feel it in her whole body, and I feel her pussy spasm several times against my mouth, at first hard, then fading away as the release floods out of her. It’s such a privilege to be here. Her hands unclench, and her legs gradually give up their tension. After a while, staying clear of her sensitive clit, I gently tongue her out, lapping up the intimate evidence of her orgasm. Then I lay still for a long time, resting my head against her thigh, enjoying the view of her sloppy pussy, looking at her smooth white skin, dark crinkly hair, and wet pink slit.

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