Morning Intrusion

I awoke to the insistent drumming of the shower running in the master bath and groggily remembered that my husband, Mark, had an early meeting for work. I stumbled into the bathroom, squinting my eyes against the bright lights over the vanity, the scent of his aftershave already clinging to the air. As I was finishing on the toilet, Mark turned off the water and pulled back the shower curtain. He was briefly startled because he hadn’t heard me come in, but then he leaned over and greeted me with an affectionate good morning kiss, his lips lingering on my cheek. As he stepped out onto the bath mat, still clad only in a pair of pristine white boxer briefs, I admired his fully nude, smooth and slender build. He had minimal body hair, which I found incredibly sexy, a subtle dusting across his shoulders and chest. I couldn’t help but notice he was sporting a semi-erection, the head of his penis pressing against my face as he reached for his towel behind me. The warmth radiating from his body was intense, a silent invitation. I couldn’t resist the temptation and gave the tip of his wet penis an equally affectionate good morning kiss, a playful exploration of the sensitive flesh.

A boyish grin flashed across his face as he began drying himself off, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the moment. Still seated on the toilet, I just waited and watched him with my naughty little grin, letting the anticipation build within me. In a matter of moments, his half-hard penis had lengthened and stiffened, now standing proudly at full mast. I asked him, my voice a low purr, if he had time for a quickie blowjob. I rationalized that he couldn’t conduct his meeting with a tent in the front of his trousers. He easily conceded, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Like many men, his testosterone was highest in the morning, fueling his desire with an almost primal intensity. I beckoned him toward me, grasping his stiff member in my hand and pulling him closer, a possessive gesture meant to emphasize my control. I wrapped my eager lips around his shaft, the cool dampness a tantalizing contrast to the heat rising within me, and got to work.

Although it wasn’t “work” at all. In fact, I always wondered why oral sex is called a blow “job” as if it were some chore. Far from it. I get immense pleasure from orally pleasing my husband, a connection that transcends mere physical sensation. I don’t profess to have a clit in my throat or anything like that, but the mouth is undoubtedly an extremely erogenous zone, a gateway to pleasure unlike any other. French kisses are hot and passionate on their own, but oral-genital contact can be simply mind numbing, whether it be fellatio or cunnilingus. There are also elements of control and surrender in oral sex. Unlike during intercourse, where we women are more passive recipients of our man’s lustful thrusting, fellatio gives me the opportunity to take a more active role in escalating the intensity my husband’s desire with my masterful tongue and lips. And when I go down to my husband, he can totally surrender to my oral ministrations and be completely consumed by his carnal desire.

I wasn’t always so open about my sexuality. I grew up in a conservative Christian family and was fairly sexually naive. Along with several of my teenage girlfriends, I took a vow of abstinence until marriage and proudly wore a purity ring throughout high school. I wasn’t entirely pure, though. I had a boyfriend who I let myself get a little carried away with while making out. Kissing soon turned into petting which then quickly escalated to heavy petting or essentially mutual masturbation. I experienced feelings that I had never felt before – a thrilling mix of shame and exhilaration, confusion and longing. However, things always ended a little too soon and much too messily. I was afraid to look too closely at his erection, remembering how warm and hard it felt in my hand and how desperate he was for my touch. I remember once washing my hands afterward and realizing the irony of having his sticky, pungent semen all over my promise ring.

In college, a whole new level of worldly temptation became readily available without any parental supervision. It seemed as if everyone was having sex. Even one of my best girlfriends from high school quickly abandoned her purity ring for alcohol, frat parties, and premarital sex. I tried to resist and focus on my studies, but I found it increasingly difficult. I had a couple of brief boyfriends, but they soon became adamant that sex was not only expected but required for the relationship to continue. The pressure was relentless, the constant reminders of my own supposed moral failing chipping away at my resolve. But finally, I met a young man who was more shy and reserved. He spent more time at the library than at the drunken parties. We dated for months before we even really kissed, building a foundation of respect and understanding that felt different from anything I’d experienced before.

But once we kissed, I was hooked. He was the most sensuous kisser I’d ever encountered, his lips soft and insistent, drawing me in with a captivating intensity. And it wasn’t long before I found out the full extent of his kissing ability. He introduced me to the ultimate kiss – cunnilingus. I was so turned on by him, by his kiss and his erotic touch, that I didn’t even have a chance to protest the first time he went down on me. The next thing I knew his exploring fingers were replaced by his exquisite tongue, a slow, deliberate exploration that left me breathless and yearning for more. He took my orgasm to a height I didn’t even know possible until then, pushing me beyond the brink of ecstasy, leaving me weak and trembling in his arms. It was a whole body experience that I felt all the way down to my curling toes, a primal connection that bypassed logic and reason altogether. After my intense climax, I finished him off with a handjob, my forte, a playful tease that left him begging for more. But it was the first time I ever gave serious thought to the possibility of sucking cock, intrigued by the idea of taking control in a way I hadn’t before. I knew plenty of other girls that did it, but I never thought I was one of “those” girls. He was gracious and appeared unfazed that I didn’t return the oral favor, simply grateful that I provided him a much needed sexual release.

But after a few more mind-blowing sessions of his amazing oral expertise, I began to feel a little guilty that I was not reciprocating. I began looking more closely as his penis as I masturbated him, tracing the curves and ridges with my fingertips, marveling at the power contained within its taut muscles. I felt its turgid inner core, the pulsating heat radiating through my hand, and examined its engorged mushroom head, feeling its firm texture beneath my nails. I studied its thick veined shaft, tracing the intricate network of blood vessels that nourished its sensitive flesh. It was mesmerizing, this transformation from being pliable and flaccid one moment to being erect and rock hard the next, a perfect illustration of male arousal. I was even enthralled watching his ejaculation, from the first powerful spurt to the final pulsating ooze, feeling a surge of primal energy as he lost control. But to take it in my mouth? I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. But as I mentioned in my previous post, my college roommate, Chloe, encouraged me to take the plunge, ratcheting up the pressure with a persuasive argument that if I could commit to sucking him off, I should also commit to swallowing the fruits of my labor. After all, my oral lover had not hesitated as my wet juices flowed freely onto his lips, tongue, and chin.

My first blowjob is somewhat of an obscured memory. Perhaps because I had so much anxiety about doing it. Perhaps because I don’t want to remember how poorly I did it. Or perhaps because I gagged a little as I swallowed for the first time. I am not sure why I don’t remember it more clearly. But I do know that I quickly got better at it because I had an ardent desire to pleasure him as he had pleasured me. Mark’s memory is clearer, and yes, that shy but sensuous young boyfriend in college would one day become my beloved husband. He claims that from the very moment I took him into my mouth it was transcendental, a moment of pure bliss that continues to resonate within him whenever I bless him with the gift of fellatio.

Although now I love to linger and relish the whole package of sights, smells, tastes and sensations while performing fellatio, I had promised him a quickie that morning. I didn’t want to make him late for his meeting. I knew from years of practice that if I concentrated on his swollen glans, sucking and licking intensely, I could bring him to orgasm quickly. His breathing soon became rapid and shallow, his muscles tense and vibrating with anticipation. He held my head gently in his hands, his fingers intertwined in my hair, a sign of his dominance and control. I cupped his balls in my hand, feeling the heat radiating from his body, and he released a big sigh after having held his breath during his intense early morning orgasm. “Wow” was all he could say, a simple expression of his profound satisfaction, and I felt confident that I had just made his day.

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