My wife reminded me again last night.
Nothing was said. Sarah simply leant forward, taking some of her weight on her arms. She raised herself from her squatting position on my groin, my spent erection slipping from between the lips of her smooth, exquisitely hairless pussy. Then she moved up my body, until her cunt was right above my open mouth, daring me to taste my own semen as it trickled from her.
I licked at her, probing her succulent depths with my tongue, tasting myself, as the bitter sweet memories flooded of the sexually precocious, ripe, luscious Lauren, on her hands and knees, of the other students who had stayed with us, and of the summer nights when the semen seeping from my wife's promiscuous cunt was not my own, but had come, spurting and spewing deep within, from thrusting, more youthful, foreign bodies.
My giving Sarah prolonged pleasure with my tongue has been a regular and highly enjoyable part of our love-making long before the temptation that was Lauren. Right from the first time that we went to bed together, I have been going down on Sarah.
That first time, to my surprise, her pubis was smooth and silky, as was every inch of my future wife's flawless, milk white flesh. The tumbling, jet black mane of hair that fell around and down her shoulders would have suggested thick curls covering her mons, but it too was pure milk white, and delightfully bare. There was not a single curl to find its way onto my tongue, not even a trace of stubble to graze its surface as I licked around her lips before delving in between them. Apart from that black mane, nowhere it seemed, on her lithe, full breasted body, was there a single follicle of living hair.
Her lips barely protruded, delicate pink, and when I parted them the inner flesh was so translucent that tiny veins of blue showed beneath the surface, itself gleaming wet, so wet that a trickle of watery fluid seeped from her to moisten the sheet on which she lay. I lapped at the gathering of liquid within. The taste of her cunt was wonderful. Not just the taste, but the sheer ease with which she exuded her vaginal nectar, slickening her cunt walls, so that penetration, even with the girth and length that I enjoy, was and always has been since, exquisite, unbridled pleasure.
Instead of mounting her immediately, I touched the exposed pearl of her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, wet from her own secretions. She shuddered. Her hand moved to my head, gently inviting me to continue what I had begun. I slowly licked, sucked, and lapped at her. I ran my tongue around the edges of her lips. I probed and explored between them. I savoured the fluids she secreted. I bit gently on her mons, wondering at its silky smoothness, how it was that there was no hint of hair ever having grown there. I teased her clitoris, my fingers opening her to expose it, protruding from its hood, as I licked above it and below, on either side, and tentatively, gently, on the nub itself.
Sarah moaned. She writhed beneath me. She squirmed and squealed and groaned. She shuddered and shivered. She arched her back, her hands pressing my head to her, then backed away, closing her legs, thighs against the sides of my head, then opening them again, as wide as they would go, inviting me to lick and lap and suck and savour her yet more.
When she came, it was serene. There was no crying out, no thrashing of arms or legs, no twisting or turning, nothing as physically climactic. Instead she whimpered, her release resembling not the crashing waves of sea on rocks, but the ripples on a pond when a stone is thrown, undulating softly through her body, her breasts shuddering. Only her eyes evidenced the intensity of her orgasm. For several long minutes they stared, fixed, wide, at the imagined sensual heaven that only she could see, or feel, or know. I waited, as her body trembled, long minutes, until finally she emerged from her private bliss, smiled, and invited me to come inside her now.
Soon into our relationship, long before we married, Sarah shared that she rarely manages to reach her orgasm from penetrative sex. She enjoys all of the sensations that fucking brings her, and loves to feel the hardness of a cock inside her. She relishes the knowledge that she is desired, that her body excites, and that her cunt, with its wet secretions and tight walls, can make a man lose all control, and thrust and slam at her until he finds his own release. She adores that moment when she senses that he is about to come, when he pauses momentarily, only to power his cock harder and deeper, and flood her with his semen, spewing it with each thrust, again and again, until he is fully sated. But however good or long or hard, or whatever size, width, or length, Sarah rarely achieves her own orgasm from all that frenzy. Yet just with a tongue, she can find her sexual heaven.
Sarah also shared, hesitantly, almost embarrassed to reveal it, that while lying, legs parted, offering herself to be licked and sucked is more than pleasurable, she much prefers to kneel, to lower herself onto an awaiting mouth, to have a man beneath her, paying homage to her cunt, making her feel that she is being worshipped.
For my part, nothing is more delicious than lying on my back, with her above me, lapping at her, tasting her, swallowing her sweet secretions as she shudders with pleasure, her slender hands caressing her own full, white breasts, pulling on her thick, pink teats, distending her palm width areoles, the light pink skin so delicate that the blue lines of veins show through the sheen of perspiration.
I love to fuck my wife, but first I worship at her smooth, hairless shrine, take her to her trembling release, and only then do I desecrate that shrine, violating it with the thickness of my cock head, stretching it wide, sinking my shaft deep within it, plunging and thrusting at it, defiling and despoiling it with my fucking, and using it as a depositary for my semen, spewing the thick creamy contents of my balls deep inside her sacred place.
And when I have come in her, not every time, but once in every while, as she did last night, Sarah will ask me to worship at her shrine again, knowing that I will taste myself, and relive all that has happened because of Lauren.
There is a secret behind my wife's smooth, hairless, pubic mound. Four things came together. She started university, with the new found freedom to do as she wished. She was given a credit card by her father. She had visited the National Gallery and seen paintings of the female nude, more voluptuous than modern female youth, not as full breasted as Sarah would have expected, or as she was herself, but significantly, where the pubis was not covered with a needless strip of cloth, there was just a slit, smooth and free of hair. Finally, another student mentioned that she had had laser therapy at a beautician's to remove unwanted hair forever from her legs.
Then, Sarah had had fine black hairs kept in trim by daily shaving on her legs,a finder growth that she had just accepted on her arms. After mulling it all over, she had come to a decision, and booked an appointment with a beautician for herself.
