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The continuing humiliation of voyeur husband.
My eyes involuntarily closed - holy cow, this is maddening. Everything in me wanted to throw this man down and take him. But the teasing was so hot, I played along.
When I did the same to his thigh, I noticed how hard he was. My fingers brushed against his erection, and he exhaled: a long, low breath. Both of us, it seemed, were rocking our pelvis' back and forth, sometimes thrusting upwards, slowly, seductively, occasionally glancing sideways at each other, yet never making eye contact. This was an unspoken contract - let's please each other and then go our separate ways. It was fine with me.
I reached up and took his zipper in my fingers, and pulled it down, slowly. His eyes closed and a low moan escaped him. His obvious aroused state prodded me on. He sprang out of his pants, stiff and smooth, and I lightly stroked his shaft with my fingertips, teasing him, making him want more than just fingertips. His head was bowed, his eyes closed, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. I wanted him badly.
His hand stopped touching me as he enjoyed my hand around his cock. My fingers running gently over the head of his cock elicited another moan from my seat partner, and I took a firmer hold of him and began pumping my hand up and down, up and down, matching his thrusts through my hand. Watching the blanket rise and fall was getting to me.
I reached over with my free hand, and took hold of the blanket. He startled, and looked at me with a question in those delicious blue-green eyes. I smiled the wickedest smile I could muster, flashed my caramel eyes at him and ducked under the blanket. He didn't resist. He covered the rest of my body with the blanket, and laid his arm across my back, and I began.
I've always been good at fellatio. I take it deep and vary my technique and - most guys love this - I swallow. I care about pleasing my partner. In other words, I aim to satisfy. I enjoy doing it, myself, as well. The moans, the movements from above me, they all encourage me into going longer. I usually do, with relish. I'm like Tinkerbell - I can go "straight on till morning."
I got close enough for him to feel my hot breath on the head of his cock. He stopped rocking and was still - waiting, I suppose, for the inevitable. I reached over and spread his thighs a bit, and held him around his hips while my other hand held his cock. My tongue began to draw lazy circles on the smooth head.
Another moan from outside the blanket. Mmmmm, I love hearing that. I gently let him feel my teeth, the hard, smooth surface giving him a different, unexpected sensation. He resumed a slight pumping rhythm again. Fine with me. Give it to me, honey, I'm ready and willing!
I am a noisy "headmistress," I admit. I take delight in "oohhing" and "ahhing" and purring and all the lovely sounds that go along with erotic activities. So, I was moaning with my mouth full, as it were, as I introduced his cock, little by little, into my warm, wet mouth. In a little, out again, in a little more, out again, and a little more, and out, and then all the ways down till I could feel his cock in the back of my throat, till I could gulp and constrict his cock, till his pubic hair tickled my nose and mouth. I loved going this far down onto him. I felt his hand resting on my head - he obviously was kinda fond of it, himself.
I think I probably could have sucked a golf ball through a garden hose, giving the length of time it'd been since I'd had sex of any kind.