With the gentle buzzing of my phone, it suddenly hit me like a bucket of ice water just how incredibly bizarre, risky- CRAZY it was for me to have set things up this way. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves; butterflies fluttered in the pit of my stomach, and I didn't quite know what to do with my hands. I forced myself to remember why I had set up the evening- my husband's birthday- the way I had. I did it for the right reasons, based upon what I know of him- which is pretty much everything. Everything would be alright. I tried not to think about what would happen if my husband rejected the intricately assembled plans I had drawn up a month ago and executed without a hitch. I tried not to think about how on earth I would segue into what I ultimately had planned. I tried not to think about the young man hiding in the basement study, waiting for me to call him up...
This is a story about how I managed to give my husband a once in a lifetime present for his birthday. But before I tell you about what happened, I think you probably need to know a few things about He and I, so you have a little context to work with, as you hopefully read through and enjoy this story. This is of course a very personal story, and erotic in nature. Please feel free to act out however you feel if you find the narrative agreeable to your erotic sensibilities.
My husband and I have been married just over a year, and prior to that we dated for about a year. Both of us were ready to settle down when we met, and by and large the past two years have been the happiest of my life. And, being reasonably happy, as well as sensitive and caring and loving towards each other, it follows that we enjoy a very healthy sex life (actually, it is WAY better than I thought it could be.
Men and women are very different- as we were made so. Thus, I have fallen into the role of feminine submission (in a sexual way only), while he is my masculine counterpart, who pursues me, protects me, and- occasionally, ravages me. ;-)
I would say that we are not to different that most people when it comes to our sex life, though like most, we have our own little quirks, kinks, and proclivities (my husband more so that me.) In particular, there is a particular sex act that we perform on a regular basis- you could say that my husband has a fetish- a very strong drive to finish the act of lovemaking with me by crawling up my body, sitting on my chest, thrusting his throbbing, quaking penis directly above the center of my face, as I lay powerless beneath his huge, muscular body... Well, you get the picture. My husband has a facial fetish- he likes to mark me with his seed- I am his. And by and large I enjoy it- it's one of the purest ways to show him love I can muster.
It's interesting, thinking on it now, how very insecure and secretive he is about this little quirk of his sexuality. I still remember the way in which I learned about his fetish- we had several long (and unbearably exciting!) conversations about sex before we were wed. I still remember watching him with fascination, curiosity, and a small bit of excitement as he revealed to me- his voice soft and his heart full of apprehension- that he had a sexual fetish he felt very self-conscious about. I told him that I would try to understand and that he need not worry- we were to be wed soon- by that point, there was nothing that would change how deeply I loved and respected him... "so trust me with your secret- there's nothing to fear," I said with warmth and compassion in my heart.
In a roundabout way, he carefully gave a backstory to his sexual history, and how for reasons unknown to him, he had always gravitated to a single sex act- ejaculating onto the face of his partner. "I have a facial fetish," he confessed. I had of course known what he was talking about, but I had never had someone do that to me, nor had I ever thought to ask for it. He continued on, explaining to me how primal this desire was, and he shared that he was afraid that if I was not receptive to him in this way, he would feel hurt. I snuggled up to him in that moment, and pulled him on top of me in the bed where we lay that night, and with my large blue eyes gazing up into his, I smirked and whispered, "baby, once we are married, you can do whatever you'd like to me. I am yours, and you are mine." He smiled so big, and thanked me, and kissed me- and though I didn't say anything, I felt his penis press against my leg, suddenly as hard as it could possibly be. I felt a little twinge in between my legs, and I smiled inside at the thought that very soon, I would be split open by his hot, hard manhood.
But it was not until after we were married sometime that he divulged the final aspect of his infatuation with seeing his seed splurting in great gooey gobs onto my waiting face. Earlier that day, he had done something very sweet for me- something simple, but so loving, and I had promised him that when night fell I would reward him in the way men most like to be rewarded. I winked as I said this, and shot my slender hand out to give his penis a little squeeze.
That night we were especially open to exploring each other sexually, and after a good long time of pleasuring me, I took over and stroked him with my hands- bringing him at least 4 times to the precipice of orgasm, then backing off before he lost control. I had learned that prolonging his excitement led to his internal sexual organs to manufacture more and more semen, which led to more powerful orgasms, but more importantly, a higher volume in ejaculate. But tonight was special- there was just something in the air. When I had tortured him enough, I laid back upon the bed, and asked him to come straddle my shoulders, so I "could take a closer look at him." He gladly obliged, and swinging one knee over my supine body, he sat down lightly upon my chest, looked down at me and grinned. My upper arms were pinned at my sides, hemmed in my his muscular thighs. I liked how regardless of how many times we had done this, I always felt a slight thrill of powerlessness beneath his powerful body. I reached up with my hands and pushed his lower back forward, prompting him to spread his legs a little wider, as well as scoot a little farther forward. I looked up into his eyes- oh, he was so ready to explode! But before he did, I wanted to tease his mind just a little more... so I asked an unusual question- the first thing that came to my mind, really- certainly a kinky question, but not so strange considering that he had swung his swollen penis right into my personal space- not to mention the fact that once again it would be his spasming testicles dumping their greyish gelatinous DNA-custard into the thundering reservoir at the base of his wonderfully thick, beautifully shaped cock, before being ejaculated violently out into the space beyond the enormous head of his dick, to come careening down upon my delicate little upturned nose, mysmall, red mouth, and pool in huge gooey gobs upon my large feline eyes. So before he crossed that threshold, I stopped him in his tracks with this question:
"Baby," I purred, "Do you ever wonder what it's like to be on the receiving end of a facial?"
My large blue eyes gleamed in anticipation, and my eyelids- with their long black lashes narrowed into a sultry stare. I could tell that his head was spinning, flooded with pleasure-producing endorphins, intoxicated by lust at the prospect of releasing the unbearable pressure I had built up deep inside his loins for the past hour.
But his answer surprised me; I had expected him to simply smirk and try to skirt the question as superfluous; instead, he simply said, "yeah, I have... I've thought about it..." I could tell that he suddenly felt vulnerable having made the admission, which meant that he had not just thought about it in passing, but had explored the idea in fantasy. I reached down and grabbed my wet pussy, suddenly inflamed by my own imagination, and surprised myself by what I said next. "I bet you'd like to know exactly what it feels like to receive a facial." His thighs tensed up, and he brought one of his large hands forth and grasped his beautiful penis just below the plump head and gave himself a little twist, sending an involuntary shudder through his entire body. I was onto something here- could it be that he was keeping a secret fantasy from me? I pressed him further, asking him to tell me if his facial fetish went deeper than he had heretofore revealed. "Don't cum yet," I cooed, "in fact, you can't come on my face until you tell me what you mean."
He let go of himself, and I raised my head up off the bed to place my little mouth upon the underside of his wonderfully thick penis- a little kiss, then my tongue darting out for a lick, my gaze never wavering from his eyes- he shuddered and my man's big dick flipped up in response to an involuntary muscular contraction at its base, then flopped back down with a light "smack" against my lips and cheek. I giggled and laid my head back down, and told him to spill the beans.
"It doesn't really matter, because it's not like I'll ever actually do it- and I've never told anyone this- but I'm just... curious, I guess, what it would be like to have someone cum on my face." He paused for a moment, then continued as I lay there enthralled, still fingering my clit- an action that was quickly drawing me closer to an orgasm of my own. "I'm not gay- I'm not attracted to men at all. But- in my fantasy- you are the one jerking off a guy- and" -he had obviously worked this out in his mind, I thought, giggleing inside at his sheepishness- "Well, the only ay I would do it was if the guy had a great body- shaved, and a perfect dick. A big dick. And I wouldn't want him to cum on my face..." he paused again, changing directions in his mind. "Think of it this way," he said in a deep, soft voice, "It's like, like you, my wife, are just borrowing a dick- making it yours- it's you who are controlling it- it's yours. And... yeah, I would love to have you give me a facial."
My guts snapped shut like a trap and a came- hard. The thought of being the one in control, of having a big, throbbing dick in my hands, of getting to aim it, and unload it all over my husband's face- well, I'm not really sure I can say why the idea was so erotic to me, but it was. I started furiously grinding my sopping wet pussy, and with a feverish look in my eye, I growled, "Oh God baby, jerk off all over my face!" He grabbed his huge dick and scooted up a little higher, positioning the enormous plump head directly above the center of my face, and started spinning his hand around the shaft just below the angry red bulb with rhythmic precision. I looked him straight in the eyes, then looked back down at his huge, perfect dick and heavy balls. I loved how perfect his dick was- we had measured it at 7 inches long, which was plenty long enough, but it was so thick that when my small hands grasped it, my middle finger and thumb only touched if I squeezed. And he had great balls- they were big and heavy and swung low most of the time- though right now the flushed tissue of his scrotum had clenched up tight as a net, nestling his tender testicles right into place at the base of his quivering dick. His hips started gyrating, and his breath caught in his throat, and then he started moaning- and I along with him, as another orgasm ripped straight through my hips and burst like fireworks in my brain. With a mighty groan, his legs locked up, and as my pussy crushed down against itself in ecstasy, I locked my eyes on the glistening slit at the tip of my husband's penis as I always did, powerless to do anything but watch as his firey hot seed rained down upon my waiting face.