Before the baby came, which was six years after our marriage, and ever since our honeymoon, Anita came up with a variety of experiments to satiate her lust. She was simply unstoppable and I was finding it extremely difficult to put up with her needs.
She was a perfect daughter-in-law and most of my friends and family were envious of me. Outside the privacy of our bedroom, she looked so innocent and so demure that it would be impossible to imagine that she would be even capable of experimenting with sex to such an extent so as to exhaust a virile man like me.
She would always dress conservatively. Invariably decked up in saris and high-necked, long sleeved blouses and very occasionally giving even a hint of her large breasts by keeping the border of the sari firmly in place by means of pins, it would be extremely rare for even me to get a glimpse of her large breasts ensconced in the blouse.
That she was a big girl was evident; no clothes would hide that fact. But she always kept those curves well hidden. Even the gowns she wore at home were large, loose and shapeless.
In the bedroom and with the door locked, she was totally different. She had a large wardrobe full of provocative dresses. One-piece silk wrap-a-rounds, short and tight mini skirts ranging from woolen, cotton to sheer nylon and silk, tight thigh hugging cut-off jeans with audaciously low-cut and sleeveless T-shirts, fishnet stockings, outrageous thongs and crotch-open panties, one-piece form fitting leather outfits…you name it, she had them all.
Her friend who was an airhostess kept up a steady supply of these outfits. Whenever there would be an occasion that I came out of the bathroom at night, I would find her standing in front of the large mirror (she loved mirrors) dressed up in these outfits and striking provocative poses that invariably gave me a hell of a erection.
She would also spend a lot of time making up her hair. She had plenty of them on her head (apart from the hair on her head, you wouldn’t find a single strand elsewhere on her body: she waxed them and shaved her pussy regularly). She would sport a ponytail, tie them up in a bunch above her head, divide them into a pair of plaits or simply let them loose.
I often worked late at nights (in the beginning she never gave me a chance to) and for that purpose, I had built for myself a small desk, complete with a PC, a printer and the more outdated drafting table.
Many a times, she would shut off the light on her side and go to sleep; other times she would simply lie down on the bed, blanket up to her chin and wait for me to finish my work and join her.
On one such occasion, I was working later than usual and I guess she got impatient.
“Ash,” she called out softly.
“Yeah?” I asked her without looking up from the drawing I was studying and had to finalize before the next morning.
“Ash,” she called again.
“What is it, Ann?”
“Look.”
I turned around. She was laying on her back on the bed the blanket as usual up to her chin. She had a mischievous look on her face.
“What?”
“Look again,” she grinned impishly.
“I see nothing,” I complained looking around the room.
“Nothing now, and everything suddenly,” she whispered and in one swift movement of her hands, she threw the blanket away from her body.
Underneath she was stark naked! Her legs were wide apart and she let her hands fall to her sides. She flicked her tongue over her lips and even as I watched, her legs came up. Up and up they rose till they were perpendicular to the bed.
“Eat my pussy,” she said, kneading her breasts.
Needless to mention, the drawing was forgotten and in less time than you would say ‘shit’, I was on top of her, in the classic sixty-nine.
She had drawn upon all her experiences from reading on this position. I would be on top of her or she on top of me. Or, we would lay side-by-side, legs thrown over each other’s shoulders savoring the taste and the smell of each other. Then there was that position where she would hang half out of the bed so that her feet would be firmly planted on the floor and waist up she would be lying on the bed; I would be astride her and waist down would be hanging over the edge of the bed, my mouth fastened on her pussy as she would suck me. When I would be the one at the bottom, I would slowly get up so that I would be standing on the floor and her thighs would be over my shoulders. I would bury my face between her legs and down below she would use her mouth on me.
One special occasion I remember was when she was wearing an obscenely tiny patch of garment across her tits: a simple strip of cloth that went across her nipples and was tied up at the back. This offered her entire tits in view, save for the two-inch wide strap across her nipples. Down below, she was wearing a micro-mini skirt revealing her strong thighs and, when she bent, her naked buttocks.
We were lying beside each other and she was fondling my prick and I had my hand up her skirt, fingering her pussy.
“Want to know what Vera got for me this time from NY?” she asked me. Every time she asked that question, it was like someone putting a lighter under my testicles!
“What is it this time?”
She produced a plastic bottle from the side-table. “This,” she told me.
“And what’s that?”
“It’s called scented Pheromone; it is mixed with some kind of oil from Africa.”
“And what is it supposed to do?” She had my interest by now.
“It’s a lotion that increases sexual attraction when rubbed and massaged on the body. That additive also has some properties that increase the period of fuck activity”
She was very succinct, my little wife.
So I ended up lying on the bed, clad in my briefs and nothing else. She was wearing that tiny halter (if it could be called that) and loose skirt: an outrageous combination really, but one which suited her fine. It revealed almost all of her gorgeous tits and covered up most of her buttocks.
She first made me lie on my stomach and she straddled my hips. The musky oil was cool and soothing and soon, I was drifting to a peaceful nap as her strong yet gentle fingers massaged the liquid into my back. She did my shoulders and then slid down and began doing the legs. She carefully massaged each toe, the heels and then proceeded to rub the oil into the cheeks of my buttocks. To do this, she had to lean down and I felt her breasts brush against my legs.
“Turn over, big boy,” she announced and when I did, she gasped and then giggled.
“It seems that big boy’s little boy has become big,” she said.
“If you do that, it will even if you don’t use that Pheromone thing,” I told her.
She carefully avoided my prick when she did the front of my body. I could see half of her tits hanging down and brushing over my body as she painted me with that liquid.
Finally, I could take no more. I had, by this time, an enormous erection and it seemed to me that it was bigger than the one I normally have.
“Damn it, girl,” I admonished her, “Isn’t it time that you oil me on the part that you have so studiously been ignoring all this time?”
She laughed and gently tugged down my briefs, allowing my prick to spring out from its confines.
“Oh, oh, that’s a hell of a boner,” she chuckled.
I shuddered when she took me in her slippery hands. She began to massage the oil into my prick, moving her fist gently over the throbbing flesh: up and down, back and forth. I peeped below and through her cleavage that was hovering over my stomach, I could see my prick standing tall, glistening with the oil and definitely appearing larger than ever.
I suddenly realized that I hadn’t even felt like spurting my juices; normally, such attention (minus oil) would have me coming in no time.
I continued to look at her. There was concentration written all over her face as she milked my prick in her hand. She held my testicles in the other and anointed it as well till oil was dripping over the bed sheet.
“Let me do you, Ann,” I told her in a hoarse voice.
She was delighted and rolled off my body to lie face down on the bed beside me. Getting up on my knees, I reached for the lotion and straddled her strong thighs.
I began with her shoulders, pausing to pull away the knot of her halter top, in the process revealing the whole of her back above the waist. I doused the liquid in a liberal dose onto her skin and began to massage.
“Ahhhhh! That’s so good,” she murmured, turning her face on the pillow and offering me a look at her in profile.
She closed her eyes. “Relax and enjoy, baby,” I told her and poured more of the stuff on her back. As I massaged, I let my hands drift down her sides so that my fingers brushed the side of her large tits. I rubbed the curve of her waist, slipping down her thighs to massage her lower back.
She lifted her hips when I pulled the skirt and I whisked it off. She was naturally not wearing any panties, which was excellent because it let me to immediately begin to massage her ass cheeks.
She began to moan as I rubbed down the back of her thighs, her legs and then her heels. Like she had done to me, I oiled each toe of her legs before instructing her to roll over “little girl”
She did. The sight of her, naked with her back on the bed never failed to enhance my arousal. Irrespective of what state I was in, this sight always took me up a gear as it did now. Her large heavy breasts stood up proudly, defying gravity, the nipples erect. She had this habit of always spreading her legs apart when she would lie on her back and that very clearly showed her wet pussy, devoid of any hair.
It took me a lot of effort not to throw away the bottle of the lotion to the ground and myself on her top. I slid up so that I was now sitting on the top of her thighs.
As I leaned down to rub the front of her shoulders and neck, I felt the tip of my prick rubbing against her mound. This made her moan again and her lips parted. She opened her eyes and fixed her gaze upon me as I gently lowered my slick hands till I they covered her tits.
“Oh my God!” she wailed when I began to massage them. It’s strange, but when a guy gets to massage an attractive lady, he always wants to do the boobs more than anything else. I was no exception. I had prolonged it as much as I could, but when I felt the heaviness of her swollen tits, the hardness of her nipples and the soft, slick and warm mounds of flesh, I did not want to touch her anywhere else, at least not for now.
She writhed and wiggled and moaned as I kneaded and caressed her breasts. My hands kept slipping from them: they were so oily and slick.
“You like my tits, don’t you?” she asked her silly question through clenched teeth.
I managed to smile and nod and began to pinch her nipples between my fingers. She thrust her heaving chest towards me and her hands slipped down to grab my erect prick.
“I can see that you like them,” she said, fondling my prick with her oily hands.
