I woke up in the morning feeling amazing. Still satiated from the previous night, especially after we went for round two not ten minutes after the dishes were clean. She felt amazing in my arms, curled up and tucked in to my body. Still had to get up, still had to work. I gently untucked myself, replacing the arm she had been sleeping on with the firmest pillow within reach. I stood up and stretched, feeling lighter on my feet and without many of the nagging aches of age. I knew she wasn't using the pressure points on me, it was probably just how amazing the week had gone.
At least, I thought so until I looked in the mirror to shave. My shirt was distinctly looser than a week prior, and removing it showed the beginnings of muscle development happening. A bit of the weight was dropping from my midsection, too. Sex with an unbelievably hot wife was amazing exercise, as it turned out, and I was getting a lot of it. Both for the past few days and for the foreseeable future.
Thursdays had morning office hours, unlike Tuesdays, so I couldn't take my time. I grabbed coffee and a quick breakfast, and was out the door before Lucy woke up. Though I was tempted to take another picture, to play with the point mapping some more, I knew it was pointless. Her measurements were going to change enough that I would need to hunt for the last four points this evening regardless. My students had noticed my increasingly good mood by now, and the rumor mill had begun. Was I getting tenured? Was I having an affair? Somehow, none of them even came close to the truth.
My phone pinged me during lunch, Lucy's number. The message was simple, and once again had me rock hard. "I'm already overflowing the new bra."
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A couple of hours later, as soon as I possibly could, I put a sign on my office door saying the afternoon office hours were unexpectedly canceled. I made the trip in record time, well faster than the law would have approved of, so it was a good thing that there were no police between myself and home. I swung our door open to find my wife trying on a swimsuit.
At least, I think that's what it was supposed to be. A small, shimmering silver bikini to offset the deep tan of her skin. It would have been pushing the limits of decency on her two days prior. Now, though, it wasn't hiding anything. The back of the bottoms had slid firmly up between Lucy's ever-more-amazing behind, the front existed to mold into a cameltoe and nothing else. She was bulging out of the top in all four directions on each cup.
She heard the door and turned. "Oh, thank you for coming home early! Can you help me out of this? I put it on before lunch and now I can't get them off!"
Boy HOWDY will that get your attention fast. Her breasts were firm, but thankfully soft enough that I could press them down enough to escape the heroic bits of silver material one by one. The bottom was more difficult. I'm fairly sure we stretched it out, but it eventually peeled off. With that, my wife was gloriously nude before me.
I stood, and found that I still had to look slightly upwards to see her face. She wasn't wearing heels, so I knew that this would be how it went from now on. Her muscles, which had only been hinted at before, showed the definition of a fitness model now. As if a fitness model would have those amazingly huge and perky breasts, they had to have been at least an F cup, possibly more.
Her skin was perfectly smooth and clear, the tone even and without a hint of tan line. Even her cheek bones and jaw line seemed to have adjusted themselves, gaining that perfect look that drew observers to her sapphire eyes. There was no hint of gray in her hair, just a glorious gold. She walked over to one of the bags, pulling out a loose shirt from the day before. I could tell that it would not be anywhere near as loose today, even at a glance, but she did not bother to put it on just yet.
She caught me admiring. Not like I was trying to hide it. "Before you ask, it feels like it slowed down. What you see is what you get until you give me more. I think, though, that you are going to want a more direct demonstration of what has been going on inside of me."
She dropped to her knees, unzipped my pants, and without the slightest bit of hesitation deep throated me. There was no resistance, no gagging, and never once did her mouth and throat stop working every inch of my length. There is no shame to saying that I did not last more than about a minute until I was firing off directly down her throat, pulse after pulse after amazing pulse of pure pleasure.
I fell backwards onto the couch after it was done. Hadn't even realized she maneuvered us so that it would happen. She smiled again, looking satisfied. Looking like she had just eaten at a Michelin starred restaurant. "That should help you think straight once you catch your breath." I nodded. "Well, then, it's not quite four in the afternoon. What do you say we clean up a bit and have ourselves a movie night in before you finish what you started? I was going to suggest going out to a nice place to eat, but I don't I have any shirts that fit well enough to go out."
I nodded again, eyes wide. My breath was only just starting to come back to me, and that mental image wasn't helping. She disappeared over to our room as I got back to the kitchen and started putting movie snacks together. Even without going out, some things just set the mood right. Popcorn popping, cans of soda fizzing, she came back out and to the kitchen.
If anything, she had understated the fit of her shirt. It was a button-down number that would have been stylish and attractive for a night on the town. Now, though, it fit her like it was painted on, the buttons hanging on for dear life, leaving a solid three inches between the bottom and a pair of yoga pants she also squeezed into. I could clearly tell that there was absolutely nothing under them, either. I froze in place, my heart going from a normal-ish rate to a million beats per minute instantly as I watched her pull out a cutting board and knife, working some kind of magic with meats and cheeses for a charcuterie board. Watching her bounce as she sliced and chopped was hypnotic, and only the microwave beeping at me snapped me out of it.
We grabbed the food, made our way out to the couch, and proceeded to Netflix and chill. Literally, she had a musical pulled up on screen (something about a Cuban honeybear), and we cuddled on the couch. Snacking, holding each other, kissing, flirting, and just generally enjoying that we were both there. Around the finale, though, both of our self-control began to crack a bit. My hands strayed to her luscious breasts first, pawing them over the clothes shortly before going for the straining buttons and snaking in under the shirt to feel her more directly. I could see her eyes flutter, her breathing picking up, as her free hand went south and felt its way down my abs and to my own rising hardness.
She turned towards me, the one hand unzipping me and getting my pants out of the way. The other came to my face, feeling it as if to memorize it. My other hand strayed south as well, under the waistline of those yoga pants, finding her hot, wet, and eager. The second I found her clit, she stiffened up, both breasts falling out of her now-unbuttoned shirt. "I can't wait any longer, love. Finish me. I want to feel you in me, I want to become everything this is leading towards." She stood, letting her shirt fall back off of her, then sensuously removing her pants. Much less patiently, she took my clothes off of me as well. She stepped forward and climbed onto the couch, straddling me and wrapping those gorgeous legs around me as she sank onto me.
The sensation was indescribable. It felt like before, but even more so. It felt like she was perfectly molded to accept me and only me into her, and at my deepest I could feel that I was exactly bottomed out in her. She was twitching and pulsing inside, as if in a constant state of orgasm herself. Certainly, from the look on her face, she might well have been. She started to move, slowly up and down on me, working me with both her motion and her inner muscles. Her breasts were shoved in my face, and I felt like I was going to drown in an ocean of cleavage. I would die a happy man if I did.
"Now, Jay. I want to feel it, I want you to transform me!"
Who was I to disagree? While my lips found a nipple, my hands came to her knees, to the side and just towards the back, and went searching. It didn't take long to find the two pressure points, given how much work those areas were currently doing. She felt me starting to work at them, sinking down onto me and pausing her efforts to let me focus. Moments later, I felt them both release themselves under my attention. She once again immediately came, crushing me into her like she wanted to take me in, her pussy spasming and pulsing around me like it had a desperately horny mind of its own. She did not scream, did not need to, I could feel the intensity of her in my arms as I hung onto her for dear life, fighting with all of my will not to orgasm right there.
I managed it, though I'm not sure how. About a minute later she settled, panting, and looked at me with desperation. "That was even stronger than yesterday. Are you ready, love?"
I did not respond with words. Instead, my hands moved to her hips. Buried deep within her pelvic cradle, near enough to her core that I could feel the pressure on my dick as I worked on them, were the last two points I had marked. It was difficult to press these two, both because of just how deep into her they were and because they were awkwardly far away from anything to press against, but her panting and soft vocalizations of pleasure told me I was on the right track as I worked on them. Eventually, I felt them put up the now-familiar last bit of resistance, and they suddenly let go.
The reaction was again immediate, but this time much more dramatic. She could not hold back her scream of ecstasy, her orgasm feeling like it was clamping down on me without ever wanting to let go. I could feel more than just the orgasm, though, this time the changes happened rapidly enough that I could feel them, too.
