MIDNIGHT RHAPSODY
I awoke at two in the morning with my wife's hand working my flaccid penis to a state of hardness. When she got it hard, she positioned it between her legs and I helped her slip it into her. She moved her hips and took it deep in her very wet and willing pussy, and I began thrusting it into her repeatedly. She sighed and our pace of fucking increased rapidly. Her hands gripped my ass cheeks and pulled me against her, and her legs clamped behind my waist, pulling me even tighter against her mound.
She rarely had initiated sex before, especially not at two in the morning. Her breathing was close to my ear and I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. She was ravenous, and our early morning fucking was frantic and passionate and loving. As she came she yelled out and pushed hard against my pubic bone.
Even before we had fully recovered, she scooted down and took my sticky cock in her mouth. I reached to her pussy and wiped some of the foam off her labia and coated my cock with it as she sucked. I took another swipe through the foam and slipped my finger under her lips and she began sucking it off my finger while she also suck on my cock.
"Let me taste that pussy," I said. She quickly changed position and put her hands on my head and directed me to her pussy, which was now covered with thick, white foam and slippery, wet lubricant.
I licked the foam from her lower lips and swiped my tongue between her labia and gathered as much of her as I could. I swallowed. She tasted lemony and slightly salty. It was wonderful, and I savored the flavor of my wife's sex like an animal in heat.
The sheets were wet, our bodies were covered with sweat, and our minds were fully occupied with one another. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she cried, tightening the grip she had on my head with her thighs.
I pushed my tongue against her clitoris and moved it rapidly back and forth. I stuck a finger into her and coated it with pussy juice, then reached up with the finger covered with her sauce and she took it into her mouth and sucked it like a candy, moaning as she sucked herself from my finger.
When she finished sucking on my finger she took a deep breath and sighed. "Where did she come from?" I said.
"I don't know," she said breathlessly. After a minute she said, "I woke up thinking about my second. You know, Randy."
"So Randy got you that hot?" I said.
"Well, he just got me started. You picked it up nicely," she said.
"You got me started," I said. "Nice way to wake up," I added. "So," I said, "you ever think of Randy when you're awake?" She was quiet, then even though it was dark, I could feel her smile.
"Sometimes," she said.
"It was good, huh?" I said.
After a pause, she said, "It was good, yes."
"If the fucking was so good," I said using a word I rarely use with her, "why did you guys break up?"
"He moved. Job. It was more important than me," she said wistfully. "It was best. We were better in bed than in life," she said hugging me. "You and I are great in bed and even better in life," she said, kissing me softly.
"So the sex was great, but the other stuff was not so good?" I said.
"Right," she said.
"I could pretend to be Randy," I said.
"You'd have to grow a couple of inches," she said, laughing at her frivolity. "Sorry," she said. "That was cruel. You'd do that?" she said trying to salvage the moment. "Roleplaying?"
"Either that or inviting him here occasionally," I said with a grin.
She was quiet in the dark next to me, like she was imagining it. I could hear her breathing intensify as she though about it.
"Could you do that?" she said.
When we went to sleep I was fairly sure she dozed off thinking about the sex she'd had with Randy. It was exactly one week later that I woke up again with my penis in my wife's hand. It was close to the same time of night and we once again had amazing sex that ended with another late-night conversation about what had happened between her and her ex boyfriend.
"You remembering Randy, are you?" I said.
Her silence was telling. I put my hand on her hip. "If it inspires sex like we've just had, I don't care," I said. "Your thoughts are private, your own, and I have no right to interfere with them or keep them from you. Why don't you tell me about what you're thinking?" I said.
I went on to ask her to tell me about their sex. I explained that I could think about it like porn. "You could tell me about what you did, how good it was, and what you really liked about it."
"That wouldn't bother you?" she asked me.
"I know you liked what the two of you did," I said. "I would be a fool not to realize that. It's not like you have been unfaithful. That happened before we even met. You can tell me about it. It will be exciting to hear. Really, sweetheart, you can be honest with me. You can tell me what you liked, what he did that was good, or better than most. I'll just listen."
"Does that turn you on?" she asked, a little suspiciously. I nodded. "Why is that?" she said with just a bit of sarcasm.
"I am not sure," I said, "but, honestly, it does."
"I am just wondering why you want to hear about my having sex with someone else," she said.
"Because it seems to really turn you on to remember," I said. "I realize I have been as chauvinistic and possessive in the past as the next guy, so I'd like to make up for that.
As I said before, the sex after you have thought back to those times has been unbelievable."
