I Married a Blow Job Queen

My wife Nancy Jean and I have been married just over seven years. Seven good years. We both had decent jobs, made good money, a horde of friends and middle class suburban lifestyle.

Nothing great, nothing extraordinary.

I suspect we were a fairly normal couple in most respects, even in the sex department. It surely wasn't as active as when we were dating, but we still managed lovemaking sessions a reasonable three times a week or so.

Nancy Jean has always been an active lovemaker. She would take the initiative from time to time, getting me to do what she turned her on best. Other times she'd be more submissive, and I would be the boss. Either way, we seemed to work well in the bedroom together. Maybe not frequent enough for me, but adventurous and satisfying when we did connect.

I learned early on that oral sex was an integral part of Nancy Jean's lovemaking wishes. She taught me to go down on her the way she liked; how she wanted to be taken to the highest degree of satisfaction. She had creamy white thighs, a trimmed bush, and active backside. By that I mean she would throw her hips at my face as she enjoyed my mouth. And on her part, she gave the best head I had ever had, bar none. She loved sucking my cock, and knew more tricks than the porn stars we'd see in blue movies.

Nancy Jean and I attended high school together, but I moved away the summer before my senior year. My wife and I didn't date back then. She was older, having been held back a year in middle school because of illness. I knew her as a pretty girl who told me jokes in biology lab, one who loved to spend time in the library studying rather than daydreaming about boys. At least that is what I always thought.

As luck would have it, I ran into Nancy Jean by accident at State University. I had transferred there from a local community college, while she had attended since graduation from high school. We literally bumped into each other at the student union. After overcoming our surprise of seeing each other, we spent several long hours catching up over dinner.

After a few dates we became inseparable. It was in my car, overlooking Tinicum Lake late one Saturday night, that pure and demure Nancy and I first made love to each other. There was no intercourse that night, but I did bring her to orgasm with my mouth and she reciprocated with every boy's fantasy.

"I'm old fashioned, I guess, but I want to save that for my wedding night," said Nancy one night after I asked for the one millionth time to climb between her creamy thighs and insert my hard cock into her pussy.

Heck, I wasn't complaining. Her blowjobs were superb, and I never went back to the dorm horny. It was in my dorm room one Tuesday night, with my roommate down the hall, that Nancy pulled her head off my dick and uttered the four wonderful words I will never tire of hearing. She looked at me, smiled, and told me to do one little thing: "Cum on my face".

Seconds later, I did, giving her a pearly necklace which she proudly wore for the next few minutes.

If I hadn't been in love before, I surely was then. And on numerous occasions over the next 18 months I shot my hot sauce onto her face, with Nancy Jean savoring the creamy loads like fine wine.

We had intercourse for the first time on our wedding night, and for the next several months the missionary position became our favored way of having sex. Later we experimented with different locations and positions, like all couples do. After a while we began varying the way we orgasmed between intercourse and good, old fashioned, oral sex. And when she took me orally, invariably I climaxed on her face.

Not once did I have a reason to complain.

Which brings me to the night of our 10-year high school reunion. It was a festive evening at the Embassy Suites near the airport, complete with everyone telling those tall tales which abound at these get-togethers. This one was now a vice president of this or that, another had her own company, while still another was a professional athlete.

We were late getting to the festivities, mostly because I begged for and received a fantastic toe curling blowjob in our hotel room before heading downstairs. That meant Nancy Jean had to head back to the bathroom to rework her makeup, straighten up her pretty light blue chiffon dress, and brush her brunette hair to perfection. It was worth the wait. We were doing Tequila shots while she made herself presentable, and had a bright buzz when we hit the elevator.

Nancy Jean and I cruised arm in arm around the banquet room, talked to some old friends, and joked with others we hardly remembered. Some we couldn't recognize, while others looked as if they stepped from high school into the hotel. Throughout the evening I sensed men's eyes on my wife, and from time to time snickers, but I chalked it off to remembrances of embarrassing moments which every has of their high school years.

We continued our belts or libations, danced a few slow numbers, and drank some more. Soon the buzz became a blitz for my little wife. I always knew when the booze was hitting her because she would insist on standing, and the resultant swaying gave away her inebriation. We danced a few slow songs together, and from time to time guys would cut in and I gave way and would watch them dance.

Every once in a while I'd see a hand slid down a little too far, but Nancy Jean would gracefully tug it up onto her back and smile.

Midway through the night my evening, and my marriage, suffered a serious---pardon the expression---blow.

I was answering nature's call, sitting in a stall in the men's room, when several guys entered. Obviously on the down side of several dozen cocktails, they laughed at each other's jokes while doing their business. When their conversation turned to their high school days, I received the shock of my life.

"Did you see Nancy Jean Cochrane? She still looks as hot as ever," slurred one. "She looks great, just like the old days in that dress."

I smiled with pride at the mention of my wife's maiden name. But that smile was short lived.

Another replied, "You bet, she always had a great ass!"

"No kidding," said a third man. "But I'll bet her mouth is still her best asset."

"Oh, you know it," said the first man. "Nobody gave a blow job like Nancy Jean."

"Remember our names for her?" asked one. "Naughty Nancy for one."

"Nancy Jean Hoover!" chimed in another.

"How about Super Sucker!" added another voice.

"Messy face Nancy," laughed one. "You know, for that sticky makeup she used to get on Saturday nights."

The guys laughed at their comments.

"Messy is right on the mark, I've never known a woman who liked cum on her face as much as Nancy Jean," said one man, laughing. "She never swallowed, but that didn't bother me. I loved cumming on her face! She could teach my wife lessons!"

"Oh yea, that was great. I can't imagine how she can walk around tonight and not blush. I mean, I bet she sucked off at least 20 guys here."

"Twenty? Try 30. Heck, we remember when we voted her Nancy Jean, the Blow Job Queen of Ridley High?"

"Yea, and she truly believed that fake Oscar we gave her was for her acting in the senior play...heck I voted for her because I wanted her to keep sucking my dick!"

The guys left the men's room and I couldn't move. My wife, my loving wife, being talked about as if she were a lowly slut. When I knew her she was 18 and a perfect young woman. Sometime in the year after I left school she became addicted to cock.

I splashed cold water on my face before leaving the room, my mind a jumble of emotions. My wonderful, decent wife had the reputation of a class whore. I didn't know where to seek her out and smack her, or take her out to the car and get her to use her well-known talents on my hardening dick.

Out of the rest room, I glanced around and finally saw my wife talking to her high school sweetheart, Biff Barnes, the football quarterback. We had met earlier in the evening and he struck me as a mental midget. But there Nancy Jean was, throwing her head back, laughing, and seemingly oblivious to his obvious undressing of her with his eyes.

Sauntering over to the twosome, I managed a smile. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe the comments by the guys in the men's room. I wanted to confront her, but what would I say. It happened before we were even dating, much less married. In a way it was a turn-on to know she had a bit of a reputation. On the other hand, I was jealous that others had sampled her ample charms.

Why ruin the night, I finally decided. She's having fun with her old friends. If she wanted rope, I'd give her some and not ruin the evening.

For some reason, I decided to leave the banquet hall and slyly look in to see what would go on in my absence. Thinking back, it was a mistake.

I mentioned to Nancy Jean and Biff that I needed to get some old photos to show around from our room, and my wife made no move to join me. I made my way out of the banquet room, but doubled back to a different entrance and gazed inside.

I spied Biff glancing around, and then motioning to the door with a nod of his head. Nancy Jean smiled, mouthing "yes", and watched him leave. Seconds later, she followed.

The two met in the hall, and stole their way out a side entrance. When I reached the back door, I caught them walking toward a car on the side parking lot. Biff opened a door, reached to unlock the back door, and the two got into the back seat of his car. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out they weren't going to merely be discussing old times.

My first inclination was to go over and beat the two of them to a pulp, but instead slipped behind an evergreen tree. The windows on the car were already starting to fog over. I had a perfect view of the two of then necking, and could clearly hear his words between pants.

"Suck my dick, Nancy Jean. Suck my cock like the old days."

There was a murmur, then a loud "zip" as his trousers were unhooked. Then my pretty wife's head lowered onto his cock. I had to move a bit closer, but there was no dispute of what she was doing. While it was in the realm of reality that a poisonous snake could have bitten him...and she could have been sucking out the venom, I sincerely doubted it. Why, his hand was on the back of her head and she was alternating licks and love bites on his bulging dick. His moans were loud as she slurped his cock.

I watched in shock as her head bobbed in his lap, licking him like a Popsicle. He murmured dirty phrases at her while thrusting his pelvis up at her face. There was no doubt he loved it, and it wasn't long before his breathing became fast and furious, and her head lifted off his dick.

"Cum on my face, lover," was all she said, and after several sensuous strokes his volcanic dick erupted searing hot lava ropes of cum all over my wife's cheek.

Nancy Jean kept stroking his cock until he was totally spent, gently rubbing his hot sauce all over her now sticky face.

The two quietly spoke, but my ears couldn't catch the words. Not that it mattered. My pure, innocent, loving wife had just blown someone she hadn't seen in years, and right before my eyes. I backtracked from the hiding spot and made my way back to the hotel banquet room, my mind wondering how I should handle its newfound revelation of adultery. First I stopped at the bar, grabbed a beer, and then looked at the entryway where Biff was smugly making his entrance.

He said something to a blond man, and the two high-fived while laughing at what must have been either a great joke or more likely, words about my wife. The blond shook his head, looked around the room, and then went out the way Biff came in. I sipped my beer, my eyes trailing Biff around the room. After a bit I realized the man he had spoken with minutes before never reappeared.

"He couldn't be..." I thought to myself in disbelief. Like cold water hitting my face early in the morning, I snapped my head back. A light in my brain went off as I made a beeline back out to the car. What I caught was the tail end of the blond jerking off his dick against my wife's face.

History repeated itself as the man rubbed his spent dick against my pretty wife's now messy face. She laughed at something he said, and he patted her on the head before emerging from the back seat, tucking his shirt into his pants.

Sitting in the shade of the evergreen, watching the white man sauce cascade down her cheeks, I realized my wife was indeed a slut.

As further evidence another man came up to the car and knocked on the window. The door opened, and he slipped inside. Again, history repeated itself.

"Oh Johnny it's so good to see you," my wife cooed. "Did you bring me a present?"

"You bet, Nancy Jean," said a familiar voice, one I had heard earlier in the evening in the men's room. "Nancy, I brought you this here lollipop. Remember it?"

My wife laughed. "Remember it, how could I forget it? It was a regular part of my younger days, and it supplied me with a lot of protein if I remember correctly!"

The two laughed, but not for long. Soon their talking had ended and my wife was slobbering and moaning over his cock while he was moving his lower half toward ecstasy. Nancy Jean was licking the velvet cock slowly up and down, then circling its head with her ovaled lips and sucking on it. She worked the tip, not taking an inch into her mouth, but the guy didn't complain. His head was back and his hands caressed my wife's head as he rocking inside her mouth.

"You want my cum on your face, Nancy Jean?" asked the excited man. "I'm gonna cum soon."

She lifted her head off his cock.

"Do it, Johnny, shoot it on my face."

He obediently put his hand on his cock began jerking off. Up and down his hand caressed his dick before it ejaculated all over her face. As he lay back, exhausted, she kept rubbing the dick on her messy, sticky face.

My wife, the world class fellatrix. A cum freak. The super-sucker of two millenniums. Hours ago it was me getting blowjob, now it seemed like the entire senior class was going to empty their gonads on my wife's face.

Three more men were entertained by Nancy Jean's talented mouth before the ritual ended. I noticed that as she waited for each new arrival she would rub the sperm into her face, sometimes licking it off her fingers. Not one man had fucked her, surprisingly, and she never undressed. Only the guys disrobed in the sweaty back seat of the car, and each left with a huge smile on his face.

The ordeal ended as it started, with Biff re-entering the car after the rest of the men had shot off their creamy loads in her wanton face. Biff unzipped his trousers before entering, easing down his pants once he slipped into the vehicle. This time he lay back against the door while Nancy Jean knelt on top of him, rather than merely bending over for the blowjob. She had to work double time, as the man had already shot his jism once. And work his cock she did, alternating sucks with licks on his well-cleaned dick.

"You're an angel, Nancy Jean, you are an absolute great cock-sucker. So much better than my wife. Your mouth feels just like it did years ago, the best in the world." The man continued to marvel at my wife's oral talents, but I tuned out the words and just watched her actions.

She was unbelievable. She never missed a beat, and seemingly never tired of the assault on her mouth.

"Yummy. You taste so good Biff, you have made this a night to remember!" she purred in an understatement of huge proportions. "I've wanted this for so long."

And she got it, as Biff's cock erupted its hot sauce once again over her face.

I'd seen enough, and this time I walked slowly back toward the hotel. Again I sat at the bar, quietly awaiting the arrival of my wife. My mind was a jumble of emotions, but sitting there my cock spouted a hard on from the thought of what she had done. I was pissed, amazed and shocked, all in one.

Soon Biff arrived in the room, and he joined his friends --- undoubtedly each a blowjob recipient --- and tossed down a beer. A bit later, after stopping off in the ladies room I surmised, Nancy Jean re-entered the hall to a round of applause from the men.

Men leered, wives looked on with questioning eyes.

My wife smiled, looked around the room and spotted me, and strode over. The look on her face was priceless, but I couldn't detect any embarrassment. Her face was made up, with no telltale signs of recent activities. Her dress, however, was another matter. There were several wet spots above her breasts on the dress, and a noticeable stain on a sleeve.

"Hi honey, have you been back long?" she asked.

"A little bit, where have you been?" I inquired. "I've missed you."

She looked at me and bent over to kiss my cheek. I could smell soap, but there was an air of cum along her ears.

"Oh, I was just freshening up," she said. "And catching up on old times with some of the guys. They haven't changed a bit over the years. Then, clumsy me, I spilled stuff all over my dress and had to get soda water to clean it off."

No, I thought to myself, the guys hadn't changed.

Apparently neither has my wife.

My wife Nancy Jean was and is still undoubtedly the Blowjob Queen of Ridley High.