Savannah's Anniversary Present

Savannah and Derek had been married for seven years. She was twenty-six, and he was thirty. It was the night of their anniversary, and Derek had no idea what was going to happen. He'd asked his wife if she wanted to go anywhere special for the night or the weekend, and she had said simply, "We'll stay home, and I'll make sure we go someplace very special."

As they cleaned away the dinner dishes, Savannah was proud of the suspense she'd been able to create. She knew her husband understood that she had something sexual in mind, and she knew that not knowing the details was driving him wild. Normally he did the planning. This was very unlike her, but she knew he would love it.

Sex had always been part of their relationship. They were both unusually attractive. Derek was tall and slight, built out of nothing but perfectly tanned skin over lean muscle. He was a runner, a mountain biker, and a rock-climber. He kept his dark hair short, but always stylish. He smiled mainly with his eyes, which were a rick dark brown. He was the skinny boy that was so obviously strong, that women had to actively restrain themselves from reaching out and touching, just to prove it was real.

Savannah, too, was thin and athletic. She was a swimmer when she wasn't doing aerobics or yoga. She didn't tan a lot, but her smooth, clear skin naturally had the color of creamy caramel. Her dark hair had hints of red in the right light, and her eyes seemed to match. Her smile was slanted, half sincere and half sarcastic, but it was always engaging. Her breasts were perky and round, her rear end likewise. It was the sort of thin yet feminine figure that men usually found only on the internet.

And yet they were both real. And both extremely lacking in confidence. Derek was the sweetest guy in the world, and was so was accustomed to being used and abused that he was hesitant to reach out. Even though he was invariably the hottest guy in the room, he wilted into the corner rather than command attention. His posture was rigid with muscles, but his unease with himself still created a slump. Savannah was too smart for her own good. Men who found a real-life internet hottie didn't want her to be smarter than they were, or to prefer reading a book to watching porn together. Other women didn't want their smart friend to also be prettier than them. She retreated into long, loose skirts, conservative tops, and black-rimmed glasses.

But, about seven and a half years ago, they had found each other. She was a lonely and very horny virginal co-ed. He was a lonely and very horny virginal recent alum. They met in the coffee shop and when their eyes met, their self-erected barriers to confidence had gone away. He had asked her out, she had accepted, and the next day they were no longer virgins.

A few months later, they were married.

Seven years later, they were still in love, now more confident thanks to each other, and sex was still an important part of their relationship. Their sex was pretty conservative most of the time, but always good. Tonight, Savannah was going to make it a little more special.

She had dressed in a very slinky, very small black dress, black stockings, and black heels. Her panties were a black satin thong, with a sequin heart over the front. Her bra was black satin demi-cup. She had asked her husband to dress up in a similar fashion, and he had definitely done so. She didn't know what kind of boxers he had on, but she was guessing black silk. His pants were black dress slacks, well-pressed. His shirt was a charcoal grey button-up with a black silk tie.

Once the dishes were put away, Savannah began walking to the bedroom, knowing that Derek would be watching the naturally exaggerated sway of her hips, and knowing that it would entice him to follow.

In the bedroom, she motioned silently for Derek to stand just inside the door. He obeyed, and she smiled seductively at him. She peeled off her dress, leaving herself in bra, panties, stocking, and heels.

Savannah strutted toward him, but paused at least an arm's length away. "You get to screw my brains out tonight, honey," she said, pitching her voice low and sultry. That kind of forthright, unimaginative sex talk was very unusual for her, and a bit of a turn on for her husband.

She stepped closer and stretched up to brush her lips across his forehead. She purred. "Seven years is when we're supposed to start cheating," she said.

He caressed her bare hips and stared into her eyes. "I don't want to cheat."

"I don't want to cheat either." She pressed her lips softly against his, and then used her upper lip to pry his lips apart. His mouth opened, and she slid her tongue in, gliding it along the wet surface of his own tongue. "In fact," she said into his mouth as they began to kiss in earnest. "I want to give myself more completely to you."

Derek clutched at the curves of his sexy wife's butt and kissed her neck. He ran his tongue up and around her ear and then murmured into it, "I want to give myself more completely to you, too."

"Good," she purred. Then she giggled uncarhacteristically and stepped back, motioning for him to stay put. She walked around the room slowly, making sure he could watch her graceful, sensual movements. She had been told many times in her life that, when she walked, she swayed her hips and arched her back like a whore, but if so it was simply the way she walked. She had, however, practiced long and hard as a girl to move her arms with fluid grace, and she was proud of that. She used the motion of her entire body to keep her husband enticed as she lit nearly a dozen candles and put on some low, instrumental music. Next, she turned out the lights. "Are you ready?"

"For what?"

She smiled and walked over to her bedside stand. She pulled out a bottle of vanilla-flavored oil and waggled it at him.

Derek blanched. "You know I don't like oil."

"I know," she agreed. "But you know how much I love it."

"Yes, but --"

"So," she said slowly, setting the bottle down and walking toward him as if she was on a catwalk, "if you want to give yourself more completely to me, give me this. Give me something you don't want to give anyone in the world. Something that you don't even truly want to give to me."

Derek bit his lip. He started to say something but then stopped. He looked at her. Then he looked around the room. Then he looked into her eyes. "Okay," he said quietly. "If it's what you want."

She smiled and began slowly undressing him. The tie came off quickly, but she opened the buttons of his shirt very slowly, kissing her way along, tasting each part of his firm, sexy body as it was exposed. "Just wait," she said. "There's something in it for you too."

She eased the shirt back off his shoulders and then gave each of his nipples a quick suck, just enough to get him turned on. Then she slid his belt out of his pants. And then, as she nuzzled against his crotch, she opened the pants and slowly lowered them down.

"So," he managed to say as helped him out of his pants, shoes, and socks, "what is it that's in it for me."

Savannah tugged him toward the bed. She lay back on the foot of the bed, her legs spread, legs hanging over the edge. Smiling, she pulled him down on top of her. Their mouths met, and they kissed for several minutes, his hands massaging her breast so vigorously they popped out of their demi-cups.

"You're going to like this," she promised him. "A lot."

She then clutched at his head and dragged it down to her breasts. She let him kiss them only briefly before dragging his head further down to her silky tummy. She let him kiss that a bit longer.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

He didn't answer, but she knew he was. She pushed his head between her legs, so that his kisses were now firmly planted on her panties. He kissed them hungrily for a moment before looking up at her. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"I told you you would like it."

"Oh my god," he groaned, licking at her slit through the satin of her thong. "Oh my god. I love you so much."

"Savor it, honey. Take your time."

"You really mean it?"

"Eat my pussy, Derek, please eat my pussy," she begged. It was something she never let him do. She had known when they were dating that he really wanted to. She knew he loved the taste of her. He always licked his fingers after they'd been inside her. But she loved to kiss, and she hated the taste of herself on his mouth, so she never let him lick her. But tonight, she wanted to give herself over to him.

Derek had no intentions of speeding through this opportunity. Once he had saturated her thong with his saliva, he crouched at the foot of the bed and slipped her heels off. He then rubbed his face all over her stocking-clad legs, his mouth open obscenely. Slowly, he rolled the stockings down, bit by bit exposing her smooth, tan legs.

"So hot," he muttered, sucking on her now bare calves. He then teased the underside of her knees with his tongue. When his mouth first came into contact with her inner thighs, Savannah couldn't help moaning and clutching at the bedding.

Derek grinned and worked his way very slowly up her thighs, not moving an inch higher until he had left a hickey on each inner thigh. By the time he reached the top, his wife was wet and fragrant, squirming and flexing her fingers into the bedspread.

"Eat my pussy, Derek," she begged again, knowing that the simple dirty talk would heighten the excitement for him.

Her husband pressed his face between her legs, sucking at the crotch of her thong and moaning and humming loudly against her.

"God damn you, eat it!" she demanded, flush with arousal. She reached down to pull off the thong herself, but he swatted her hand gently aside.

Slipping one finger inside her to probe within her warmth for her g-spot, Derek used his other hand to rip the strings of the thong. He flung it aside and paused for a moment to admire the swell of her mound, the neat fur of her bush, the inviting pucker of her labia.

"Please, honey!" Savannah whimpered, pulling his head into her now exposed womanhood.

She'd never allowed him to practice, so he didn't know much technique, but his desire seemed to make up for it. At first he kept fingering her while bathing her entire mound and labia with his tongue. Once she was so turned on that she was humping against his finger and his face, he used his free hand to expose her clitoris. It was firm and reddish pink. He flicked it firmly with his tongue. She gasped at each flick, and then when he took it between his lips and sucked, she screamed.

Savannah grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head up. "Too much, baby, too much. Not there. It's too much. I can't handle it."

Derek smiled and ran the underside of his tongue in one more circle around her clitoris, but then relented. He removed his finger from her slit and drew his tongue slowly down the crease, savoring the array of flavors and textures there. Pressing hard enough to insert it, he licked slowly back up, tasting the warmth of her inner pool of juices.

He reached under her to pull her up tighter against his face. Humming and moaning, he rubbed his face back and forth across her, smearing his face with a shining slick of her wetness. Then he took each of her inner lips into his mouth, playing with its clever folds very gently.

Derek could sense his wife's body tensing and warming with approaching climax. He slid his hands out from under her and used them to gently hold her open, allowing his tongue better access at her depths. He stabbed at her with it, kissing and sucking as he did. He slurped and hummed and moved his face around, searching for an angle that might get his tongue up at her g-spot. He knew his tongue was long enough if he could just find the angle.

When he finally did, Savannah cried out and began clawing at his head and beck. He rubbed his tongue along the ridges of her g-spot, feeling it change from a hard surface to a spongy one with stimulation. She was getting incredibly wet, her fluids spilling out of her, all over her thighs and his face.

His hands abandoned their task of holding her open, and he began simply kissing and sucking at everything he could. When his mouth returned to her clit, she screamed again and her hips suddenly jerked up and down as she came harder than he could ever remember.

"Don't stop," she begged. "Don't stop."

She was whimpering. He could hear tears in her voice. Her body was tense and tight. Her womanhood searing hot. But she begged him to keep going, so he did. Her body shook and shook with more climaxes, every one signaled by a sharp cry of what sounded like agony.

Finally, at long last, she'd had more than she could take, and she pulled him up by his ears, kissing him passionately on the mouth. It was a wet, sloppy kiss that left saliva and smeared lipstick all over their faces. He could taste her tears. She could taste her own juices. But neither could remember a more delicious kiss.

"Thank you," she panted into his mouth.

"I should be thanking you," he said, slurping on her tongue.

"No, honey, you don't understand." Savannah nipped at her husband's tongue and then sucked on his check, managing to give him a big, nasty hickey. "That was amazing. I should have trusted you long ago. Thank you for letting me feel that."

"Damn, I love you," Derek granted, pulling her bra off and slipping out of his boxers. "Give me that oil."

Savannah grinned. She had envisioned a long, drawn out oiling process, but they were on fire right now, and it wasn't the time for long or drawn out. It was time for messy and wild. She knew Derek hated the feeling of oil, hated how it felt sticky on his skin. She was confident, though, that once their slippery bodies were tumbling around on the bed, he would change his mind.

Laughing, she grabbed the oil and poured it on his back and on her chest. Laughing some more as he tried to keep kissing her even through this, she just abandoned all strategy and poured the oil all over everything she could find. She would trust the movement of their bodies to get it spread around properly.

As soon as the bottle was empty, she chucked it across the room and then rolled so that she was on top of him, straddling his waist. His hardon was hot and full against the crease of her backside. He had been very turned on by giving her oral, and she loved the look of his manhood in full rage. She smiled warmly and made eye contact with him, pressing her body against him and using her breasts to rub oil all over his chest and stomach.

She worked her way down his body, dragging his erection through the valley of her oiled breasts. Giggling, she wanted to give him a good appreciation of the things the oil enabled, so she literally crawled underneath him.

They were already getting slippery and slick from the oil, and soon she was rolling all over his body, slithering like a sexy serpent making sure they were both good and coated. Staring into his eyes, she slid her mouth around the head of his erection. She tasted precum mixed in with the vanilla flavored oil.

"What do you think of oil now?" she asked.

Derek's answer was to return the favor, and crawl all around her body, letting both of them enjoy the slipping of his hard muscles against her lean softness. Before long, they were both rolling around each other, like oiled animals at play.

At last, when Savannah was on her belly, and Derek was wriggling down her body, he finally decided he needed more than slipping and sliding, and he eased himself into her from behind. She was so wet and they were so slicked up that even laying flat like that with her legs pretty much together, he had no trouble.

Several violent thrusts later, Savannah panted, "Let's try something different."

She slithered out from under him and got up to her knees, thighs closely pressed together. Derek was thick enough that they normally wouldn't even try something like this, but the oil made it possible for him to press himself down through the soft, slippery flesh of her thighs. The penetration wasn't deep, and was at an awkward angle, but the entire stroke, from tip to shaft rubbed intensely along her clitoris on its way into her.

It was slow and sensual. For him, every part of his manhood was receiving constant attention from his wife's soft, oily flesh. For her, every stroke was like the slowest, strongest clitoral stimulation she could imagine.

Savannah chewed her lips as they maintained intense eye contact. She pawed at her own breasts, enjoying how the soft yet firm spheres felt in her hands, all slicked up with oil.

As they continued, she became so aroused that her body found another well of fluid from somewhere deep within, and soon her juices began to mix with oil on her thighs. As she became a slippery, it grew increasingly difficult to maintain dedication to the slow, deliberate position she had chosen. Her arousal was so intense that she could feel her cheeks warming.

With a growl, Savannah surrendered to passion. She pushed her husband to his back, and then rolled him onto his side. Taking advantage of the oil, she slid between his legs into a closed scissors position, legs spread for legs, her womanhood accepting his manhood. They strained their heads to maintain as much eye contact as possible, but only for a few strokes, for soon she was more concerned with bouncing herself against him as hard as she could.

Neither of them had a lot left, and a chorus of grunts prefaced the explosive mess of a simultaneous orgasm that left a massive pool of sexual fluid from both of them in the middle of the bed.

Exhausted, Savannah and Derek slowly rolled into a spoon position at the head of the bed. They were oily and sweaty. They were drained and floating on a hard-earned high. They were very much in love.