*** Note: This is the second installment of a story that began with a Winter Holidays 2012 contest submission. I hadn't really intended to expand it, but the story was pretty highly rated, and comments I got both publicly and privately encouraged me to write more. There won't be 12 installments, as some asked for, but if the ratings stay high I'll keep going a few days at a time until all 12 days are covered. I hope you like it. ***
On the second day of Christmas, Wendy had given me one of her mind-blowing blowjobs. It had everything: gentle licking from the tip of my cock almost to my ass and everywhere in between, licking and sucking of my balls, deep throat, tonguing my balls during deep throat ... She put every trick she knew into that blowjob, and she kept it going for almost half an hour before making me explode in her mouth. Then she kissed me -- not a closed-mouth peck like usual after a blowjob, but a full-on open-mouthed french kiss, with her mouth still full of my cum. Even after our amazing and first-ever cum play of the day before, this surprised me; she usually swallows, and has told me before that she doesn't mind swallowing but doesn't really like to keep it in her mouth. And even after two orgasms the day before, it was a big load. I gagged a little and was initially disgusted, and I started to break the kiss. She held me tightly to her and rolled us both over so the load drained back into her mouth. Then she swallowed it, and we fell asleep together.
On the third day of Christmas, she asked, "Remember what I did on our wedding night?" Oh god, yes, I remember: We'd made love, and after I'd come inside her she'd given me a blowjob. The sight and feel of her cleaning our mixed juices off my cock with her tongue was unbelievable, the hottest thing I'd ever seen. She'd done that only once more in our 16 years of marriage, even though she knew I absolutely loved it. She did it again, with a twist. She made love to me slowly and passionately, her on top, sometimes sitting up in cowgirl position, more often lying on me for maximum skin on skin. She timed it well and we came together, clasping each other tightly as we rode the wave. Then, instead of moving down to suck me, she spun around into 69 position. I looked down my body to watch her start to greedily lick and suck our juices off my cock. Then I looked up and saw some of my cum oozing out of her glistening pussy. I knew what she wanted, and surprised myself by wanting it, too; with her mouth doing magic on my cock, I was in that "I'll do anything for you, just don't stop" frame of mind in no time. I pulled her hips down to me and buried my face in her pussy, lapping up everything. And for the first time, I swallowed my own cum. I didn't set out to do it, but as the pressure from my tongue parted her lips a glob fell in my mouth, far enough back that it was either swallow it or stop what I was doing, and I didn't want to stop. We both came again in that position, and she spun around and kissed me again; she had swallowed my load this time, but I could still taste myself on her lips and tongue, just as she could taste both of us on me.
Talking the next morning about the previous evening's activities was becoming a habit. We both wanted to make sure we had enjoyed ourselves and weren't getting into anything we didn't want to. It was the most openly we'd communicated in a long time, and that was a great addition to our rekindled sex life. The improved communication was even showing signs of spilling over into other parts of our life.
The morning of the fourth day of Christmas was no exception. Lying on our sides facing each other and caressing each other a little, Wendy asked, "So, how did you like eating your cum out of my pussy last night?"
"I was so into what was happening, with my mouth and yours, that I didn't mind it," I said. That wasn't quite the truth; the truth surprised me, and I was a little afraid of how she'd react to it. But the new openness we were sharing inspired me, and I decided to go for it: "Actually, I kinda liked it. ... Are you OK with that?"
"I'm unbelievably OK with that," she smiled. "I never thought I'd like what we've done the last few days -- the playing with the cum parts, I mean," she added quickly. "But it's really, really hot."
"I liked eating you after sex better than I liked the mouthful you gave me after the blowjob the day before," I told her. "If you want to do that again, would you put my cock inside you first? I think that would be better for me."
"Sure!" Wendy said. "I might try that again sometime, but it wasn't my favorite either. Maybe I'd like it better if you were in me when we kissed, too." After a pause, she said, "I've got big plans for tonight. You gonna be 'up' for it?"
I said, "I don't know if I'll have two in me tonight, but one won't be any problem."
"Well, one is all I promised anyway," she said, winking. "It'll be a good one."
But by bedtime that night, nothing had happened. When she climbed into bed, Wendy flopped back on her pillow and said, "I'm exhausted."
This brought up a flood of bad feelings for me. For one thing, she hadn't really done much all day. Neither had I, it wasn't that; I just didn't see any reason she had for being exhausted. And for another, one of the biggest problems in our marriage, from my perspective, was that she didn't follow through with much of anything. The last three days, our sex life had been fantastic and other areas of our life seemed to be getting better -- and now here she was, bailing out yet again.
What she said next taught me not to judge so quickly. "So it's just gonna be a hand job tonight, OK?"
I looked at her and said, "It's your gift to give; it's always going to be your choice."
So she reached inside my pajama pants and played with me. She got into it enough that she tossed the covers off so she could watch. When I got close she told me to raise my shirt, and I shot my load onto my stomach. She cleaned me off with a warm cloth, kissed me goodnight, and we went to sleep.
The next morning, the fifth day of Christmas, she opened the conversation again. "I'm sorry about last night. I told you I had big plans; I don't know why I was so tired last night, but I just didn't have the energy for anything else. It was important to me to keep giving as I promised, though, so I hope it was OK."
That meant a lot to me. I hugged her, and told her again that how she gave me an orgasm each day was completely up to her. "I hope they're not all hand jobs from here on out," I said, "but even if they are, it's one heck of a present."
"Oh, don't worry about that," she said. "I told you I had big plans. Just because I didn't follow those plans yesterday doesn't mean I won't another day. Maybe even today."
Then our daughter was up and wanting breakfast, so I was left to wonder what those plans might be.
My thoughts kept turning to that throughout the day as I applied for a couple of jobs and made some small repairs around the house. Wendy was out most of the day, taking our daughter to a playdate and running errands. The three of us played a board game that evening after supper and laughed a lot, which was really nice. When I came out of our daughter's room after reading and singing to her at bedtime, there was a note taped to the wall saying, "Come to the bedroom."
I did not waste time. When I got there, I found the blankets pulled down off the bed, a large towel in the middle of the bed, and a large bottle of lube in the middle of the towel. Wendy was nowhere to be seen. Another note was taped to the bottle: "Get naked and lie down." I did, quickly. I figured that big bottle of lube meant we were going to try anal for the first time. I was right -- sort of.
I hadn't been lying there long when she walked in. She was wearing that blue babydoll and matching lacy panties I'd bought her a few Christmases ago and had never seen her in until now. She looked stunning. One small part of my brain congratulated myself on a purchase that flattered her so well, minimizing her extra pounds in the middle and accentuating her amazing breasts. Another small part wondered if I was falling back in love with her, because "stunning" is not a word I would've used to describe her a few days ago, and it's not like she'd lost weight or changed her appearance since then. Mostly, though, I just admired my wife -- and then I noticed that she was carrying a gift bag.
She caught my glance and said, "Yes, I have a surprise for us tonight. Any idea what the lube is for?"
"I think maybe we're going to try anal tonight," I said.
"You're right," she said.
She set the bag down on the bed and playfully smacked my hand away when I reached for it. Then she knelt between my legs, picked up that big bottle of lube, poured a good-sized glop into her hand, and rubbed it ... on me. On my ass.
Now, I'd always loved the little bit of attention she'd given my ass over the years. She used to trace circles with her fingers near it, and when I was really lucky she'd do the same with her tongue, but she almost never quite got right to it. Once in all our years together she'd put a finger inside me a little ways while she was sucking me, and I had absolutely loved it. I don't really care what you think about that; if you think it's gay or something, you haven't tried it. It's one of the most highly sensitive areas of the body, and the right attention feels fantastic. But this seemed like she had more in mind, and I was nervous.