Goat

Just 4750 words this one, a twenty minute read, so a very short story for me. But then, it's not really a story.

This morning, our anniversary morning, I didn't get a gift from my wife. Not even a card. I wasn't surprised because we hadn't talked for a week. Not since Beatrice walked in on me masturbating. She said she thought we shared that, why didn't I wait so she could watch or do herself too? I reminded her she hadn't been in the mood for months and how else was I supposed to survive? (My story "Beatrice, Moana and Sgt Sparkles" describes the three different women Beatrice has crammed into her petite French frame.) She pressed me for details, like what was I thinking about while I wanked? I showed her my phone, and the porn I'd been watching. She was annoyed, then got a bit fruity watching the porn with me and we fucked, like one of those maintenance shags a marriage needs now and then. But afterwards, she got moody and sullen. I mean, even worse than when I post my erotic stories.

Beatrice prefers me to write to satisfy myself during our sexual droughts, because she knows that my female characters are always just different versions of her. She likes to "check" them before I post or publish anywhere. If a story makes her cum I'm allowed to share it. If not, then I rewrite according to her notes. Either is exciting for me. She reads them naked in bed and while we can't touch during this time, she likes me to lie between her spread knees, watching her "reaction." Stories quickly get her wet -- just the situation of reading something dirty while I lie between her legs apparently. Occasionally a story makes her touch herself. Sometimes she even wants me to lick her while she reads and this is a uniquely gratifying way to please a lover top to tail, inside and out. Sometimes she tells me to junk the story, other times to rewrite with more or less of this or that, or to stop holding back, or to think of the emotional context of the sex. She loves messy oral, especially cunnilingus, so I always have to squeeze in as much of that as I can.

It's an odd ritual, I'll admit, and while it works because we do end up having great sex after, I always feel like my story has presented some kind of ultimatum. As if -- after a prolonged bout of sexlessness -- I've said, "Look what you made me do. What're you going to do about it?"

Beatrice is her own person, though, and if she didn't want to play she didn't have to. The best times are when I'm horny and she isn't and she tells me to write her a story to get her going. That's my favourite. It gives her a week or two's reprieve from my lascivious pestering while I craft something, then gives us an afternoon delight when I show it to her.

However there's this awkward period after, when she's cum over the story, and so given me her seal of approval to publish it. She refers to this tangential sharing of our sex life as "sublimated dogging" and enjoys watching the reader numbers tot up for a published story, but she's impatient with my worries over whether readers like it or not. "What does it matter?" she says. "We enjoyed it. Who cares if anyone else does?"

"They care," I say. "I want them to enjoy it as much as you did."

"You want them to cum too? Why? Are you married to them?"

She's right of course, and that's when she gets moody with me for "wanting to get strangers off."

But recently I've not been writing for her. When she's not in the mood I just sort myself out instead. That's what got her annoyed when she caught me with my dick in my hand I think. It was clear I was excluding her.

When I tried to talk about it, she just said, "Darling, we are arguing. When I win this argument, then we can talk again, oui?"

"How can you win an argument if we don't talk?"

She smiled and shook her head as if to say, "If you don't know that, then I can't tell you."

So I wasn't surprised when I didn't get a card for our anniversary. Instead, as we stirred from sleep she kissed me softly. "I am sorry I've not been in a sexy mood," she said, her croaky french accent, as ever, getting me instantly erect. I kissed her harder as if to say, no problem, then gave her the card I made. I was proud of it, it was a heart with a QR code in the middle that linked to a playlist of songs that meant stuff to us. You know, like an old fashioned mixtape. I even called it that: Mixtape For My Love.

"I have nothing for you," Beatrice said. "Sorry. I have only this." Then, pink-cheeked and not able to meet my eye, she presented me with this letter:

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My Love,

My friends moan and moan of husbands who have sex just for their own gratification, and leave their partners unsatisfied. Worse, my friends, they don't have any expectation for satisfaction at all. They are just happy with whatever they get, even just the brief passion of having their men cum in them or on them. I've had lovers like this too, before you. I used to think, why do men feel they can act this way, so selfishly, and why have we women put up with it so long?

But you are different. Since we met I can't imagine how anyone stands for a man that makes no effort. What does it even mean, "Effort?" Like cleaning the car or taking out the trash? You never make me feel like you are making an effort. You make me feel like it is your greatest joy to please me. As it is mine to please you. If someone doesn't feel that way about their lover, then is it love at all?

I am so lucky. You say my orgasms, they are my gift to you! This is a very kind thing to say, with your fingers or lips or tongue or cock all focussed on MY pleasure. It is clearly your gift to me, no? But then you say love "doing" me -- the feeling of me in your mouth or on your erection or your fingers -- so it's a greedy, self-pleasing kind of gift, and my climaxes for you, my extreme pleasure, that is all you want in return! Such fucked up logic -- where giving pleasure pleases you -- but so so sweet and super sexy. But I suppose that is what lovemaking is. When you love someone of course you only desire their pleasure. And also this is why, when we cum together, the love is almost unbearable, because these gifts, they are multiplied and multiplied, the giving and receiving all at the same time.

But tonight, the night of our twentieth anniversary, I want to look at it another way. Turn it upside down on its head. I want to prove that if my orgasms are my gift to you, then your cumming is also your gift to me. And today that is all I want from you. Today I will be selfish. I want ALL your pleasure. More than that. I want from you the greatest pleasure you ever had! Like the kids say, the "GOAT." If you have a problem with this, and I know you will because you will feel selfish letting me work only to please you, then I will remind you of the many times you have worked for my orgasms alone, or maybe for our combined pleasure too, but never just for your own. These are the most important times, and the ones I have cum over many times since when I recall them:

1. When, on the first morning of our honeymoon in Thailand, you licked me and fucked me and licked me and fucked me. Again and again, turning me this way and that to your cock and to your mouth. I felt mauled by a sexy bull. A sexy bull with a single very hard horn, and a very agile tongue!. I had never ever been fucked like that, devoured like that, in every way, soft then hard, shallow then deep, slow then very, very fast. It was like an overture for all the sex of our life together and I came and came and you didn't! Not for an age anyway. And this was difficult for you I could tell. I saw you in the mirror when you fucked me from behind against it, your brow wrinkled. and grinding your teeth with the effort of clamping down and it was the sexiest thing -- how hard you had to try not to release so you could keep making me cum so hard! Then, when you finally did explode, with me on my back and my feet in the air, you still thought of me first. You pulled out and blasted hot all over my clit just how I love it most, and I came huge, one last time, as you licked your cum all over my happy happy cunt and made my orgasm last forever. I still feel it now, that warm, dreamy bliss, especially when you kissed me with your messy mouth, with our combined most secret flavours, and sealed our love.

2. When you found me pulling on my knickers after my shower, and took them off me again, and worshipped me on your knees at my feet. I nearly came with you just kissing my clitty, but you turned me round, bent me over, and licked me carefully just to the edge of orgasm many times for maybe a whole hour. Your cock, it was so needy it bucked and dripped, but you made it wait, and made me wait, until I was quivering and taut as an overpuffed balloon. When you finally released me from my hellish heaven, I burst so hard I squirted all over you! Only then did you fuck me and cum in me, and gave us the gift of our daughter.

3. When you massaged me on the kitchen table like it was a sex altar, your hard hands rubbing every bit of my body, even my fingers and toes, but avoiding my hungry minou! Even as my ass it arched up to your touch like a needy cat! Then at last, you slid thick fingers between my thighs, into my slippery heat, two fingers deep inside, two on my clit, and your thumb at my anus making me shudder and cackle and cum. But you weren't done of course, and slid my ankles apart and leant over and buried your face down there too, and patiently ate me to another yummy cummy. Your cock jumped about right next to my face and I was too cunt happy to even suck it! Only after I came again did you get onto the table with me, throw a leg over my hips and feed your hungry meat into my salivating slot. I came very quick this third time as you pounded me from behind. We came together laughing, remember? That day we made our giggly boy.

So, now it is my turn, lovely man.

Today I will give you your GOAT. The Greatest Of All Time. You are hereby solemnly, heartfully, notified that you will have the orgasm of your life. And it starts... right...

Now.

You'll go to work as usual. I will not. I've taken the day off to dedicate this entire day to your -- OUR -- pleasure. All day, while hefting your lumber and working your tools, you'll know that at home I'll be thinking very filthy thoughts about you, reading our stories and watching porn and thinking of you, and generally getting myself insanely horny dreaming about what I'm going to do to you tonight. I (probably) won't touch myself. Though I plan to do a lot of looking at myself. And by my "self" I mean my minou. My cunt. In the mirror, with my knickers pulled aside, or half down, or naked after my shower, spread and dripping! In case you don't believe me I'll send photos to prove it. You might decide to send me a cheeky dickpic showing me how this makes you feel. I'd like that, alot, but it won't make me cum. I mean, I'll want to cum of course -- looking at your big, pretty penis and knowing it's hard just for me -- but today I refuse to climax until I'm with you.

In this way, our day apart will be our foreplay!

When you get home, you'll find me alone in a warm house full of candles and the kids will be at a sleepover with my sister. Neither of us will need to cook. I've already ordered a delivery for later to re-charge you after I've completely drained you. You should go directly to the bathroom where I will have prepared you a bath. More candles. The scented ones from the spa place we loved on our honeymoon.

I'll have some cocktails ready for us and even though it's winter I'll be dressed in the long, floaty summer dress you like. My feet will be bare because you call my naked toes cute and claim they drive you mad with the thought I might be naked all the way up my skirt. To avoid all doubt, I will not be wearing panties. And yes, I'll be very. Very. Wet.

We'll kiss -- so much kissing -- while you soak, but I won't let you touch me under my dress until we've had two cocktails each. I'll be touching you, obviously, as we chat and drink and I lather you up and rinse you down. I will be very, very clean already, of course, because when I'm clean, I'm dirty.

Naturally, I will tease you. I'll give you glimpses up my skirt while I'm sitting on the butterfly chair and chatting with our cocktails. I'll cross and uncross my legs, or put my foot up on the seat, waving my knee, or hook my leg over the arm of the chair and let the floaty cotton fall where it may.

When I wash you, you can stroke my bottom and boobs through my dress. This will be very much encouraged so you can feel my vulnerable skin under the light material. And some kissing and nipping through the cotton would be nice too. For example, when I wash you, my covered breast will brush against your lips and make my nipple stiff. And I will definitely, definitely turn my back to you and lift my skirt and jiggle my naked bottom. This always makes me laugh because you make this noise, part chuckle, part groan, and it comes out like a rumbling, purry growl. I'm not laughing at you, but at how sexy it makes me feel, knowing you adore my "bubble bum."

Especially when I touch my toes.

When I present my podgy wet bits to you from behind I'm certain I'll be drooling down below -- because I am dribbly already, at this moment, as I write it down. And you'll see why the last few days I've not let you see me naked. I secretly had one of those waxings you love, and I'm totally smooth underneath with a very neat patch of fur just on my mound. It looks and feels soooo cute and sexy. My inner lips poke out like a cheeky tongue.

You'll want to worship me, naturally, with your fingers, then your mouth and then your cock. You won't be allowed. I'm worshipping you tonight. No. I'm worshipping us. And I will start by worshipping myself for you, right in front of you. I'll give myself a little quickie just to take the edge off. It'll seem like torture, watching me bent double, feet planted wide, fiddling with my wet cunt, and twitching and gasping and cackling, but it'll be for your benefit. I won't want to cum too quick during the next bit which I know you'll want to last.

So, I'll make you watch me masturbate -- the work of seconds! -- then you'll have to watch me suck my slimy fingers before I take up a towel and make you get out of the bath. I'll rub you dry, and me wet again, while we kiss with tongues so you can taste my salty-sweet sex juice from my mouth first, like an amuse-bouche.

When you are dry I will take off my dress in front of you. You will not be allowed to touch me. I will touch you, with all of me. I will stroke your front with mine, with my warm bare skin, and turn about like a hungry moggy brushing my rear at you. Then you can kiss the spot on my neck that makes my knees wobble and I will let you stroke my breasts and belly while I roll my ass against your cock, and maybe climb onto it like a witch on her broom, and slide along it.

I'll take you to the bedroom. I'll hold your hand and lead the way so you can watch my body wobble nude and know my cunt it is naked and bald and swollen and wet underneath for you, and only for you, because it is more turned on by you than anything else in the universe. You will see the tracks of its delight glistening all the way down to my ankles I think! Even my toes will have juices on them!

Then I will sit you -- naked and rigid -- on the edge of the bed. You'll see I've rolled the three-panelled dressing mirror over to give you multiple views, and you might wonder, multiple views of what? We will watch ourselves for a moment: You, a delicious lumpy brute, naked next to me, a wicked tinkerbell. And I'll let you anticipate why I have this mirror here.

Then I will face you, kiss you, and stand on the bed astride your lap...

God I love your eyes on my cunt. Hungry and flaming. I won't let you dive in straight away. I want you to savour me. When you sit beneath me, between my feet, you lean back on your hands and my pussy is a bit too high for you to reach. Good. You can look up at me while I open my cunt lips and wriggle out a drip onto your dopey smile.

When I'm ready, I'll bend at the knee and bring my rudest lips down to yours like a slobbering angel descending from heaven.

Now let there be no misunderstanding. Let me be specific. My aim today is to bring you the greatest pleasure you have ever felt and I will do this with my mouth on your penis.

Eventually.

I will take my time getting there. First, I will feed your orgasm with mine, fatten it up, before I wolf it! So first you must endure the words of this letter, from my dirty brain into yours. Then you must endure my waxed-clean body displayed to your eyes and, naturally, you will have to survive the torture of my cunt in your mouth and then on your cock. All these are my sideways steps to getting what I want most, your dick in my mouth...

So my love, you must eat me. It's up to you how you do it, but I hope it's kisses, then tongues, then clitty sucklings and fingers inside me saying "come kitty" to my orgasm. Whatever. All you have to do is do me in the way that does you. The way that pleases you most. I'll be watching your cock to check that you are, too. Pleased I mean. I'll cum of course. More than once hopefully. FYI: When I say "stop stop stop" after I cum the first time on your tongue? Like I always do? Because my bliss, it is too intense and I beg you to stop? Well, don't stop. I love it when you don't do as I say, but do what you want, insatiable for my cunt and my squirty cum. I love it when you hold my entire throbbing pussy in your mouth so I can burst in your lovely warmth then you lean back and bring me with you and I pass through that "too much" barrier, into the animal, "more more more" and, at last, squat on your face!

Well it wouldn't be a celebration without our favourite position would it? And I will have cum a few times so you'll be down there for quite a while, gobbling me. I'll probably sit in your palms and get comfy so you love me up a long, long time, while I play with your erection, testing it, tugging it, imagining it in me. Imagining how you will taste.

Anyway, more yummy cumming from me all over your face and now it'll be your cock's turn for some love. I'll want to cram it in my great big gob and suck out my reward, of course. And I'll have to sixty-nine you a little (or lots) but it'll be for another orgasm for me, not you. I want to put my other slavering maw to work first!

You won't have to lift a finger. I'll hop off your face in another clitty orgasm, but only to waddle south in search of something -- the only thing -- that can properly fill me. The one thing that satisfies my yearning hollow. And after a day of abstinence and much, much tongue, my hollow WILL be yearning.

I'll sit on your happy dick, sweet man, and chew on it with my hips. You will want to cum, badly, and you absolutely must NOT. The longer you last, the sweeter your reward. When I'm on top, I do the riding, you know the rules. All you'll have to do is meet my thrusts and grind deep when I grind.

OK you might say, hang on, who's treat is this? And I will tell you. My Love, every time I orgasm for you -- on you -- consider that you are the only man that's ever made me cum, even once, let alone over and over. With every climax, I'm honouring you, my delicious husband, the only man I ever met who turns me on and properly satisfies me. And let's not kid ourselves, my breathy, french-gabbled orgasms, they make you feel like the king of the world.

Well, you'll be royalty tonight for sure because I'll certainly cum riding you, hopefully I will be crouched on your lap, my knees at your shoulders, and your big arms wrapped ten times round me. Hopefully we'll groan into each other's mouths. Fuck me and kiss me and fuck me again. Stretch me, and fill me until I'm the pastry on your sausage roll! I want all of you inside over and over. I only ask one thing. Do. Not. Cum.