Allen Grosserhaun looked up at the skylight in the ceiling of their bed & breakfast suite and then back down at the tableau in front of him, as if to convince himself either that he was really seeing what his eyes told him or that he really was hallucinating. At the moment he was so submerged in sensory overload that even if the latter turned out to be the truth it would have been perfectly okay with him, simply for what his imagination had allowed him to experience.
What he saw when he opened his eyes again was the relaxing yet enticingly warm and stimulative bubbling waters of the Jacuzzi, and the mouth, lips, and tongue of his wife, Deatra, languidly licking and sucking on the head and shaft of his cock.
Three weeks this fantasy had been going on, ever since his twenty-year high school reunion and the watershed fight he and wifey had had the day before his departure. It was like the porno version of "Groundhog's Day" - a recurring dream so incredible that he most definitely did not want to do anything that had the remotest chance of waking him up from it.
It had started the Sunday evening he had arrived back home from the reunion. Already racked by a growing tide of guilt for the previous night's infidelity, he passionately embraced Dee, only to have his passion matched by a smothering of her kisses, followed by a tonsillectomy for the ages.
“I missed you, honey. And I’m sorry about Thursday night,” she had purred. “But I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Feeling like his transgression was a neon sign around his neck, Alan bluffed, “Really? What is it?”
“Just have the kids go play at the neighbors for an hour. Then come back and find out,” Dee said throatily in a horrible Mae West impression.
Alan dutifully complied, anxious to please Dee while really expecting nothing more than the usual tame, limited brand of intimacy that was all she had ever allowed.
Curiously she led him to the bathroom, where romantic jazz was playing on the radio. She then began undressing him in excruciatingly provocative slow motion, and when he was nude she proceeded to perform the same strip tease upon herself.
Allen knew that the gawking look on his face must be at least as cretinous as how he was feeling, but it wasn't affecting Deatra's concentration in the slightest. In fact, she had just gotten started.
She then sultrily reached for the bottle of lotion on the counter, had Allen hold out his hands, and poured a generous amount on each set of fingers, took his hands and gently rubbed them together, and then whispered, "Rub this on my calves." Of course, the most practical way to do this was to kneel at her feet so that he could reach them, which, not coincidentally, also brought his face mere inches from her pussy.
It was at this moment that he realized with a start that Dee's pussy was shaved bare as a baby's behind. His wife had never, ever, not once in all the years they'd been married, even so much as groomed or trimmed her bush, even to look presentable in her old-maid one-piece swimsuit. It had always been a mop of fur so thick Allen had oftentimes wondered if it was meant to be a natural chastity barrier. And now that thicket was gone, leaving nothing but her rose pedal lips and the little white clit that was seemingly coming out to greet him.
Suddenly unable to help himself, Allen dared to bring his hands up the back of Dee's thighs, cup her buttocks, and bring her pubis to his mouth. And the wonder of it all was that she didn't stop him - in fact, she sat down on the edge of the bathroom counter to give him easier access, and he plundered her.
After what seemed like all too short an interval, she gently raised his head up and frenched Allen with undiminished gusto, then opened the shower curtain to reveal a full hot bubble bath. "Lay down," she breathed in his ear, and being on autopilot at this point, he did. She then straddled him facing away and leaned down with her ass in his face and her mouth actually poised mere inches from his dick.
"Oh, my, dear, God," Allen thought hazily. Once in my life and now twice in two days, and this time with the woman I just betrayed. Powerball winners didn't get this lucky.
He couldn't see what was going on at the other end of the sixty-nine. He didn't have to. He felt his penis disappear into something unbelievably hot and moist while resuming his licking up and down Deatra's crease, intermittently sucking on a labia and taking a swab over her swollen clit with an increasing frequency that slowly built into a mounting urgency. And somehow, some way, Dee not only kept up, but actually matched the same pace and equivalent oral ministrations.
A thought occurred to him then, as it had once, years before, with Jill - "Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?"
But before he could be distracted by his guilt again, Dee came with a shuddering squeal, and started getting up. Again, Allen wondered if that was it, and that this had all been a huge tease after all, when instead she just crawled forward a ways, still facing away from him, looked back and smirked, "Saddle me up, cowboy."
Allen gaped in astonishment. This wasn't happening. HIS wife, doing everything he'd ever dreamed of, and now inviting him to fuck her doggie style? It was just like that first time with Jill. And also like that first time, he was too horny to really want to puzzle over it.
Within seconds he was in her to the hilt, belly slapping against her moist asscheeks, hands alternately on her hips and her breasts, her little yips of pleasure propelling his orgasm until it burst into her innards accompanied by a cry of sheer, undiluted ecstasy.
But like a game show, "that wasn't all!" This skid of untrammeled lust reprised itself the next night, and the next, and the one after that. Mr. and Mrs. Grosserhaun had buggered each other with unflagging, freewheeling enthusiasm every single day from that one to this. Allen could hardly believe that this was the same woman that was kin to all those old hillbilly fogies, fossils, and hags, and their half dozen metaphorical teeth between them whose dog & pony show he had spent the afternoon enduring.
Or maybe not "enduring" at that; in truth it wasn't as bad as he once would have thought. The past few weeks hadn't just been more and incomparably better sex than they'd had in the previous year; it had also been an outpouring of selfless love from his wife such that he'd found himself almost compelled to not just give back, but to change his long-set attitudes on things. Whereas it had been guilt that had motivated him to go to Dee's family reunion, he found that he actually did want to go precisely because it was important to her. And it no longer mattered to him why she considered it important; she simply did, and because of that it was important to him as well.
But the guilt still was there, in the background, always watching, ever vigilant. And so, for good reasons and bad, Allen's pursuit of good husbandry unwaveringly continued, for fear that if it didn't, it all might come crashing down around him.
~ ~ ~
Deatra, for her part, didn't really know anything of Allen's lapse. She merely had her suspicions.
She had always been prudish, and while she had enjoyed the unaccustomed attention she received from her first-ever male suitor, and while Allen never pushed her to do anything she wasn't ready for during their courtship, she really wasn't very interested in the physical aspects of love beyond the sort of superficial curiosity anybody would have about something they'd never experienced. Consequently, the couple never engaged in sex before marriage, and Dee even felt "dirty" about the necking they did do.
Even after they were wed, and Allen's libido proved to be as robust as she had dourly anticipated, she tended to keep him at arm's length. Having experienced the rudiments of sex, she found that while she didn't dislike them, she didn't have more than a passing need for them, either. And she found the more adventuresome aspects in which her husband had expressed a plaintive interest in trying together - namely, oral sex - frankly disgusting. She didn't even like touching his penis with her fingers, or having him touch her vaginal opening with his, and always rushed to wash her hands and her private area as quickly as she could afterwards.
As the years went by, Deatra fell into a rut of seeing Allen's sexual appetite for her as an imposition, as drudgery, as a pain in the twat that would never go away. And so she minimized their intimacy as much as she could, almost unconsciously, and made no pretense of enjoying more than the occasional one of the interludes that they did share together.
It was a rut, but a most comfortable one, especially as, after a while, it had had its desired effect - Allen hardly ever tried to initiate sex with her, but accepted what crumbs she deigned to ration out to him.
And then had come that Thursday night three weeks ago, and Allen's pent-up anger and frustration unleashed. She had never seen him like that - as mild-manneredness goes, her husband would have made Clark Kent seem like a raging maniac - and coming when it did right before he and the kids left town for the weekend, it had a magnified effect on her.
So on Saturday night she had called Allen's parents' house where he and the kids were staying to apologize and promise to make things up to him, only to be told by his mother that he had called to say he'd be out late with some of his old high school friends. And she knew that one of his high school friends was also his old flame, Jill Miller.
But…no. Allen, HER Allen, slip it to another woman? Sure, if he'd had his way the past fifteen years he'd have pumped her full of enough cum to float a battleship, but he'd never had a roving eye; his fidelity was positively stodgy.
But then…Jill was the first love of his life, and while he hadn't gone into extensive detail, Dee did know that he had given his virginity to her in shockingly steamy fashion. And his marital sex life had been anything but satisfying for him of late.
Her initial flash of natural instinct - to angrily confront him about where he'd been Saturday night - was quickly swept away by a guilt of her own over her lack of trust in Allen despite his never giving her a reason to doubt his faithfulness, and soul-searching over whether she might have driven him to "graze in another pasture" if he had cheated.
Conflicted, pensive, and fearful, Deatra dug out their old "marriage manuals" and began re-reading what the authors had to say about what made for a happy, healthy matrimonial love life. And a resolve began building in her heart that it wasn't what Allen had or hadn't done that weekend, but what they were going to do together henceforth that was going to matter.
Thus were Mrs. Grosserhaun's plans laid, and for the first time she could ever remember, her desire kindled, for hubby's return.
~ ~ ~
As exhilarating as the past three weeks had been for Allen, they had been even more so for Deatra. She had been surprised to find that she didn't feel dirty when she'd shaved off her pubic hair, or read up on the techniques for performing fellatio, or did the stretching exercises meant to make her more limber for more acrobatic intercourse positions - instead, she'd felt liberated. As though for the first time in her life she fully understood that she could not only be her husband's "early morning angel" AND his "midnight fantasy," but that she could enjoy it as much as he would. Especially the fact of the satisfaction it would give her to give her husband as much pleasure as he could tolerate.
It had been like the honeymoon they had never had, and it didn't matter that they weren't in Hawaii or some other exotic location. So engrossed in each other were they that they could have been on the Moon and they'd have scarcely noticed.
Thus did she find herself where she now was, head bobbing slowly up and down Allen's shaft and loving every minute of it. When she saw him look up at the ceiling skylight and then back down again, she looked up into his eyes with her mouth around the head of his cock and, as if a current had just flowed between them, abruptly sucked the whole length of it into her throat.
Allen almost lurched out of the hot tub.
