For several days after Colleen first exposed my cuckold desires she was buoyant. It was as if my confession lifted a weight from her chest, as if she could breathe again. I didn't know then that she had been wracked by guilt over her adulterous desires, and my permission to explore those desires freed her from that enormous burden. She positively bubbled with excitement.
"Paul, you know I love you, and I'll never regret marrying you. You have shown you care for me in so many ways. But I don't even know how to begin to thank you for this! This is the greatest gift you have ever given me!"
I smiled sheepishly. After a diamond pendant and a Mazda Miata, how was I supposed to take it that my greatest gift was permission to fuck someone else?
She noticed my wan expression and suddenly took my face between her hands, holding my eyes steadily with her own.
"Oh, don't look so worried. This is a gift to yourself, too. It was clear last weekend that you were more excited than you have been in months. I am going to make you just as happy as I am."
I conceded her point. She searched my face for a few moments then took my hands.
"C'mon, baby, let's have some fun. Go get Hercules from the nightstand and meet me in the living room."
I hesitated for a moment. Hercules was her dildo-- at seven inches long and thick as a toilet paper tube he dwarfed me. It was tough feeling inadequate next to a piece of plastic.
"Now!" she said, experimenting with her new dominance.
I hustled for the bedroom.
When I returned to the living room Colleen had already started to undress. Her workout pants and shirt (she had been at an aerobics class earlier) were in a pile next to the leather chair and, as I stared, her bra soon followed. She turned toward me clad only in blue & green striped cotton panties and white socks. I sucked in my breath. Colleen has some of the most magnificent breasts I have ever seen, porn actresses included. They are not particularly large, but so perfectly shaped they belong in a museum. They slope gently from her shoulders to beautiful pink tips, then curve back to her torso like twin doves. The scattering of freckles across her chest are hypnotic-- you cannot look away.
She grinned at my admiration. "You like?" she asked. I nodded and gulped. "Do you agree that I deserve more than you can ever offer?" I nodded again.
"C'mere, baby, you have a new role in my life: you are to serve me, to provide whatever I desire." She was smiling broadly, clearly enjoying her authority. "You haven't been holding me back, you just don't have the tools to help me get there. Well," she laughed heartily, "I guess you have one in your hand!"
Colleen parted her feet and put her hands on her hips.
"Get on your knees, Paul. I want you to worship my pussy."
I dropped to the floor between her open legs and stared upward. Her face was curtained by her auburn hair, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as the excitement of her control over me sunk in. She was a goddess-- breasts rising and falling with her breathing, her toned stomach, the cradle of her hips. But the prominent feature was that magnificent mound. Her panties were stretched tightly over the twin swells of her vulva, dark between her legs with the sweat of her recent workout. Not a hair showed-- she kept herself neatly trimmed for the tiniest of bikinis. With her hands on her hips she pushed her crotch forward over my face.
I started to reach for her panties to take them down.
"No, Paul," she said, "leave my panties on. You don't deserve my bare pussy," she grinned.
I put my hands back on my own thighs and lifted my face to her cotton-covered muff. The aroma was intoxicating. Her exercise had matted the fabric to every fold of her labia, and the moisture was clearly supplemented by her own sexual flow. There was nothing rancid about it-- it was both fresh and fragrant. I held my nose just centimeters from her crease and inhaled deeply. I turned my head slightly and gave the insides of her thighs a short lick; first one, then the other. I moved my tongue to the juncture of her legs and her groin, where the elastic bit into her soft flesh. I licked the line it drew, from the front of her thighs to as far as my neck would permit between her legs. She squatted lower and spread her legs farther to give me more room and I made my return trip right across the panel beneath her ass. A new aroma here, not unpleasant, but definitely wilder. It was an oak forest contrasted with the French garden of her cunt.
"Yes," she murmured, as a brief spasm shuddered through her legs. I looked up and directly into her wide eyes. She was studying me, still gauging my reaction to her domination. "Lick my dirty panties, you worthless piece of shit. Lick the sweaty crotch of my panties and make me cum!"
It is hard to describe how these words felt. My wife just called me worthless, but I'd never felt more valuable to her. I had something to give: my slavish attention to her needs, and I suddenly felt a much-loved dog. And, like a dog, I put my tongue to work expressing my love for her.
I began lapping at the tight fabric in broad strokes, dragging saliva over the wet gusset and working it into the creases formed by her swollen lips. She grunted her pleasure and began gyrating her hips like a pole dancer, grinding her crotch against my mouth and chin. My neck ached with exertion, but I pressed right back into her, thrusting my tongue against the hard nub I could feel at the apex of her slit.
Cream began to seep through the sloppy cotton and I eagerly lapped it up. The fabric loosened as it drenched and I was able to force it right into my pretty wife's hole, fucking her almost as deeply with my tongue as I once had with my cock.
