Knees Beneath Her Burning Touch

I had a sense that tonight was going to be sexually heightened. We returned from dining with friends, where an innocent reference about my wife’s prior engagement with Alex had occurred. (Across the country now, he is in no way in our lives.) Someone made some mild, good-natured innuendo about it, but I parried with a joke, Beth and I squeezed hands, and we were on to a new topic.

It helped that I could diffuse the situation. Readers of my other stories will know this is a relatively recent development, and that my wife and I have found a way, with God’s help, to put her past in a healthy and minor perspective. Almost a full year had passed since the events described in my last story, a year with no thoughts given to her past sexual history.

Beth was extra affectionate with me the remainder of the evening, even rubbing my cock under the table a few times, something she usually wouldn’t do in the presence of others. I could tell this was on our minds, and in a good way.

Later, at home, I was excited when she removed my pants and underwear and directed me to sit on the edge of the bed. Then she put a pillow on the floor and knelt between my knees. The lights were low.

It didn’t take long for me to get fully erect with Beth’s face so close to me. She bent forward a little, placing her forearms on my thighs, and moistened her mouth. Then she turned her head sideways and ran her lips along my shaft, getting me wet, too. She repeated the motion several times. It felt divine, but it also made me yearn for more.

I didn’t have to wait long. Beth gripped my dick with her hand, moved it toward her, and lowered her wet mouth onto me. She moved her head up and down, encircling me with her lips and maintaining a firm wet pressure around me. I loved feeling her move over the ridge of the head of my cock. I imagined how the round and now wet corona must feel to the sensitive skin of her lips. She moaned a little, and it vibrated along my cock. It was ridiculous how connected that made my cock seem with her mouth.

She pumped her hand in rhythm with her sucking. Unable to help myself, I moved my hand to replace hers, gently pumping myself as her head bobbed up and down. I loved feeling the outside of her mouth against my hand as I helped her to blow me. Against my thumb, her upper lip got moist, while her chin made contact with my index finger. I stopped my gentle pumping, spending some glorious time moving my cock all along her wet, open lips and along her tongue when she stuck it out. She seemed so wanton during this.

But she wanted to be in control again; she displaced my hand and resumed sucking me for a long while; I could hear only soft, wet sounds.

“I like imagining how we look now.”

“Yeah? You like picturing me on my knees?”

I couldn’t tell if she was being provocative here or not. Was she alluding to how she’d look to me from the side or back as an imaginary observer? That was exciting. Simple phrases like “on my knees” sometimes have more potency than explicit ones.

I scooted up a little on the bed, positioning my balls closer to her mouth. She took the hint, bending down and licking under my balls. It felt exquisite: extra intimate (and therefore a little dirty), a tiny bit ticklish, and wet. I loved feeling the friction between my skin and her tongue. In the groove between my leg and pelvis, her tongue seemed pointy. (That’s where the ticklishness was centered.) Along the underside of my balls, it felt flat and wet. I liked that I could sense the heft of my balls as she lifted them with her licking, allowing some of their weight to rest on her wet tongue.

“That feels so good. I like when you do that.”

“Do you? I like it too… I always have.”

There it was again. Was she being naughty? Except for conversations early in our relationship, Beth had never mentioned her past, and certainly not when we were in an intimate moment. Since my breakthrough five years ago, her past had only come to my mind two or three times while we’d been intimate, and never as a result of some purposeful comment from her.

I groaned at hearing this, hoping to reassure her so she’d continue, in a limited way, to explore the sexual tension in the air. She stayed quiet and went back to licking my balls. Then:

“Plus, it was good to give my mouth a break.”

A bombshell! I felt my heart drop excitedly in my chest, and Beth quickly hid her face, gobbling down on my cock. There was no doubt about it now, with her use of the past tense. She was referring to her own sexual history, and in the most potent and risky way she could have chosen.

I hesitated here because this has been painful for me at times. Alex had a bigger cock than me. Although I’m a little above average in girth and length, he was “much thicker” than me, as she said in one of those classic times she overshared early on. She knows this fact was no doubt a big reason for my past jealousy, so I was floored that she said what she did. That’s why she hid her face so quickly.

I couldn’t believe she said that.

But I loved it. It was so sexy to think of it. How could I find any thought of my wife’s sexual history palatable, even exciting, especially on a topic as fraught with intimidation as him having a much thicker cock? With God’s help, I’ve learned that giving in is part of the miracle, giving in to my wife’s sexuality while balancing myself against larger truths.

“That was pretty hot, baby.”

I whispered it, gently holding her hair, assuring her that all was well and that she’d only added to tonight’s fun.

What she said, in this heightened mood since dinner, further charged the air. It allowed me a share in her sexual past and made it incrementally less like an act she performed on him with me on the outside. It brought me in, slightly, to her sexual past and her private being. I felt privileged by her honesty and vulnerability. But we said no more about it tonight. To say more would have risked peril and, importantly, would have suggested that the past had more hold on our individual psyches than it does.

But I did permit myself a few indulgent thoughts and questions, just for me—and now you—because I couldn’t help myself. I confined myself to today’s topic. (I’m not quite ready to explore all the thoughts of her pussy taking a large cock.) Today, it was intriguing enough to think of Beth on her knees.

I pictured Beth back then, her lips stretching to accommodate Alex’s thicker cock, occasionally taking a break to lick his balls and let her jaw relax. I wished I knew just how very thick he was, but I will never ask her, and she would not be that explicit with me now anyway. Maybe it’s good I missed my chance in the beginning.

More uncertainty: I know that if she wasn’t fully ready, intercourse could be a challenge due to his size. So I think she sucked him off and swallowed pretty often. I’d love to ask her for certain, but I won’t. I’d find her even more alluring if she said yes, but maybe not knowing for sure is better.

And here’s the naughtiest thought, a blowjob comparison, probably unfair to her. Although she’s quite attentive to varying her technique while pleasuring me—licking, sucking, nibbling, and also paying attention to my balls—her comment showed that necessity really is the mother of invention. Additionally, there’s an undeniable visual difference at play. If an outside observer saw Beth tonight with me and had somehow also seen my (then) future wife on her knees servicing Alex’s larger cock, I suspect he’d say, “Oh, there, that, with Alex, that was true cock worship.” Would that be about right?

But I’m sustained by larger truths. Some are explicit. Her mouth got tired, so (she said once) she prefers my size for blowing. Yet it is undeniably sexy to picture her there with Alex. My cock tells a bodily truth, getting excited at the thought. Still, some truths are more important ones. In a loving, committed relationship, what she did with him (to him!) was not shameful, even though had I been around, he wouldn’t have become her fiance. And finally, because our entire relationship is so characterized, our sex life together is more fulfilling, playful, adventuresome, and deeper for Beth than theirs was.

As I hope is clear from my earlier stories, this acceptance is a gift from God. After everything else I tried, it seems a true grace that, through Him, the very thing that threatened us now even becomes at times a source of good. As it’s written in Revelation: Behold, I make all things new.

Here’s the mystery again. I hesitate to remain blunt now writing this, but Beth and I hope to help others who still struggle as we did. The blunt celebration of sexuality is part of it. If I suppress it, it’ll return daily. But if I celebrate now, it’ll recede for months, years, and when it does return it will only add to her charm and mystery.

So, to be blunt: how can I desire her mouth, lips once stretched open by her lover’s thick cock, engorged with friction along his shaft, holding inside his warm, creamy ejaculation? All is made new. Yes, history remains, faintly coloring the present when remembered. Yet, all is made new.

I love this woman dearly. I love her soul, her body, her mouth.

I felt my own ejaculation building. She slowed down, knowing this is what I like now, holding me instead of pumping, her wet lips firm around my hard cock. She stilled her tongue, allowing the groove along the center to develop.

Soon, the groove filled with my white semen, copious because of these intimate thoughts of her and the heightened sexuality in the air tonight. She showed me, and then she swallowed it down.

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