Funions Onions Bunions

"Funions, onions, bunions, I feel like I'm floating..."

My gorgeous wife was not quite levitating off the marital bed, but the impact of the painkillers she had been prescribed after her foot surgery was apparent. She was giggly, something that I had not seen in years. Two kids, economic and social pressures, will do that to you.

I still loved her as much as the day I had met her, and she was still kind and generous towards me, but by the end of the day, the energy was drained not just from her body, but from her soul, and from our marriage.

Even those morning quickies we used to enjoy so much had dissipated. It had been a month of Sundays since we had a romp interrupted by a little face appearing at the end of the bed asking about breakfast.

That had always made Freya giggle uproariously, almost like the drugs now were doing.

So, it really caught my attention when she added "...and I feel so horny, hornier than I have since that night we met... I want you to fuck me now. The kids are at school, so no one will interrupt."

I had taken the week off work because the doctor recommended that Freya not try to get out of bed for a few days.

"Are you sure?" I asked. Even though the trope is that guys think of sex 24/7/365, I was so exhausted from caring for kids and post-op Freya that sex had not been on my mind. Now that it was, I wanted to make sure that her consent was clear in case she had regrets after - if for instance, she ended up at the ER with a freshly damaged foot.

"Yes, get over here and fuck me before I change my mind, or give one of the neighbours a call to do the deed if you won't."

She giggled again.

"Though in reality, I guess the biggest risk if you wait too long is that I will fall through this fog and go back to sleep."

Her hand slid across my hip. Her fingers found my shaft, already turgid from her chatter. She gave it one firm stroke then held it throbbing in her palm. In the days when we used sex as a way to relax before sleep, I had often snuggled my butt against her thighs, waiting for that hand to reach around and do just what she was doing now.

"Oh, at least part of you seems eager."

"But the doctor said to keep your foot elevated." I looked at the pile of pillows under her lower leg.

"Thrown up over your shoulder seems like elevation to me. Now get over here." she added emphasis by giving my surging erection a stiff stroke. Her thumbnail teased the slit atop my helmet as she did so - a tactic that she knew always made me instantly rock hard. It did not disappoint her this time either.

My inner voice finally stopped being a buzz kill and instructed me to do as she asked. But something told me not to just crawl on top of her and slip my cock into what I imagined was already a well-lubricated cunt.

I rolled so that my flank pressed against her arm, my body at an angle that allowed her to continue playing with my manhood as I nibbled her shoulder. A familiar shudder travelled through her body in response, encouraging me to slide my hand across her hip. I did not go straight for the prize, taking time to run her tummy in a slow circular fashion that I knew sent tingles to her pearl.

"Mmmm, feels good," she muttered, as if really floating on a cloud a mile up in the air.

As she tugged on me, my tongue travelled from her shoulder along her collarbone, and then licked her chest to the valley between her perfect little tits. I had always loved their perkiness, and how responsive her little brown nubs always were.

This time it was no different. I had not shaved that morning, so my rough whiskers teased her flesh. While I moved my mouth across to swallow one nipple, my fingers followed the trail from her navel to the top of her slit. She spread her legs wider apart, making it easy for me to trace along her labia and penetrate her first with one digit, then two, three, four.

"Oh, fuck yes," she cried out. "Fist me."

When we had first hooked up, her cunt had been too tight for that, but two kids had stretched things out, and in a good way, since she had quickly grown to love being fisted, but only when she was especially turned on.

She had her first climax of the afternoon as I nibbled the second nipple and obeyed her instructions. Her free hand encircled my wrist to guide my penetration while she still stroked my shaft with purpose.

"Fuck me now. I need your cock inside me," she begged as she caught her breath.

"Not quite yet," I replied. I rolled carefully over between her legs, cautious not to disturb her newly repaired foot. Then I started to kiss down from her breasts, pausing to take extra care around and inside her navel, just like she loved.

As I moved, she released her grasp on my cock so gently that I felt her reluctance, captured by her deep sigh. I thumbed her clit as I worked, keeping her primed, but not making her squirm too much. Her fingers grabbed hunks of my hair, twisting my head to ensure that my lips, tongue and teeth pleased her pearl just the way that she wanted it.

Her hips humped up off the mattress to meet my mouth. I felt her injured leg slide over my shoulder just as she had promised. Her whole body seemed to vibrate as I made her clit dance.

"Need to come again," she shouted. Good thing the kids were at school.

I felt her body tense. I imagined her toes were curling if that was possible fresh out of bunion surgery. At least I did not hear stitches ripping. After a second or six, I was occupied holding on, avoiding being bumped out of bed, as Freya's second climax rocketed through her like an earthquake.

I bobbed my head up to look at her as the aftershocks settled through her flesh, thinking that she may be finished, ready to rest. After all, the doctor had warned her about the need to sleep for healing.

Freya giggled again.

"You look like a puppy dog with that grin, and your tongue hanging out of your mouth like that."

My head nodded, maybe a bit like a St. Bernard looking for approval.

"Woof," I replied, provoking another cavalcade of giggles.

"Are you still good and hard? I still need that good fucking."

Her fingers were still in my hair, and she grasped tightly enough to haul my mouth to hers for a stunningly strong smooch. Not coincidentally, my cock trailed up her inner thigh, nestling in the pelvic groove. Her hips rotated beneath me, shifting my hardness toward her gash.

"Fuck me, fuck me hard and fill me up with great gobs of goo."

She emphasized this demand by again grasping my cock, and without further ado, plunged it deep into her moist cleft. Both our hips quickly and enthusiastically found a rhythm that smashed our loins together. My length drilled deep into her depths. Her clenching abdominals clashed with my throbbing thickness. Her leg was still over my shoulder, and she used it to urge me to go faster and harder.

My hands found her heaving breasts. My fingers closed on either side of her eraser-like nipples and gave them a squeeze. I felt the reaction shudder through her flesh.

In the brief pause which followed, I froze, fearing that I might have overdone things, that her pleasure was about to surrender to pain. Or maybe just that she was nodding off due to the drugs, not a lack of enthusiasm. Or maybe two orgasms were enough for her, and like the bad periods when our sex life flagged, she was about to spurn me, using her condition as a polite excuse to leave me unrequited, though she never seemed to mind if I finished myself by hand. Of course, her vanilla tendencies usually prevented me from ever blasting my seed onto her flesh, let alone licking it clean.

In any case, I had reached, nay, passed, the point of reason. My passion demanded release. Perhaps today, she was sufficiently relaxed that I could at least spurt seed onto her skin and taste my cream as I bathed her with my tongue.

My doubts were soon answered though as Freya giggled again and asked, "Why are you stopping, silly man, I told you I need your seed, and I need to come again while you fill me."

I resumed thrusting, and she responded, but it lacked the earlier zest. Again, my spirits started to sink until Freya grasped my wrist and guided a hand along her side, around her hip and demanded "put a finger up my butt. I know how you love doing that, and I'm usually too uptight for it. Today, the drugs have me all relaxed, so, please, take advantage."

Another giggle.

"I'm so stoned I think that I might even like it." Yet another giggle. "Though I doubt anybody could love it like you do. And I don't have a prostate for you to stimulate. Tell you what - you finger MY ass, and I'll trigger your orgasm with the finger up YOUR ass trick."

How could I reject that deal?

I grinned, my smile inches from her eyes, and nodded. She held that look as she shifted my hand and lifted her buttock. I barely noticed her fingers trailing along a similar path on my upraised rump. But notice I did, with a shiver of anticipation. My biggest best blasts of baby butter always occurred when Freya's finger found the forbidden passage and stimulated my prostate. It was something that she seldom was comfortable doing, so usually happened on special occasions, or when Freya was especially horny. At least one of our children had resulted from just such a situation, I believed.

Freya's finger fondled my anal cleft, then paused. I copied her movements.

Though she seemed hesitant about penetrating me, something I often requested, she simply wriggled her rump and lowered herself, forcing my digit past her sphincter until it was fully inside of her, right to the last knuckle.

Since I could not copy that exactly, I did hump my rear in the air, seeking satisfaction. At the same time, I waggled my finger inside of her, feeling my cock throbbing through the very thin membrane separating the spaces.

Freya rode higher in the air, crashing back to the mattress. After a single gulp for breath, she plunged her digit right to my prostate, like a well arched arrow hitting a bulls eye.

Luckily, I took the pause for air as a sign, and I had bravely thrust a second finger inside my bride's butt hole, waggling both in counter-tempo just as she stimulated me. This resulted in us triggering each other's explosion. My load unloaded deep inside her womb, coating her walls with the enormity of my enthusiasm. At that precise moment, Freya seemed to levitate up off the mattress, unleashing one last, loudest scream of passion, before crashing back down and burying my invading digits much deeper than intended.

"Ouch," she screamed. This time at least I knew I had not destroyed her foot. I eased her over enough onto one side to remove my offending fingers. She withdrew her leg from over my shoulder.

She sighed contently as she snuggled back into the mattress, gathering bedding around her even before I had lost enough tumescence to safely withdraw my cock. Once my dripping dick was clear, I arranged the pillows to elevate her foot.

"Oh, poor baby," she mumbled as the medication drew her towards contented slumber. "You didn't get a blow job."

"That's okay, next time."

"Yeah, nex...ime..." she mumbled, then just before she began to softly snore, she whispered "funions, onions, bunions, oh my..." and giggled once more.

Of course, when she woke up, Freya not only had no recollection of the promise of a blow job, she had no memory of the best sex of our married lives.

I wondered just how long we had to wait to have the second bunion removed.