Chapter 3

Mornings are wonderful on 'our weekends'. Not having to jump out of bed at first light to feed and keep our children occupied is such a blessing. Perhaps I should feel guilty, but when our two little ones are at Grandma's house, Johan and I get to be and act like we always have with each other. For two whole days a week we can relax and be two horny people who both enjoy sex, having fun, playing with toys, and all kinds of other 'regular' things too. 'Our weekend' stretches from Sunday night until Tuesday afternoon when one of us picks up the kids from Grandma's. The intervening time we spend as we wish. Or perhaps I should have said as Johan wishes.

You see Johan is my 'ideas man'. Or at least, that's what I call it! He likes to decide what we are doing and when we do it. I love that, because during the week when I'm making dinners and breakfasts and lunches and getting people ready, I feel like everything revolves around me. I have to do things and organise people, and I make meals and I clean and wash. I relish my responsibilities and I adore my children. But nurturing, feeding and providing entertainment for two children under four is no mean feat. Add to that a sexually demanding husband and I'm out on my feet most nights, not to mention sore each morning! And no! I'm not complaining!

I appreciate the time we have alone together so much. We are fortunate to be in the position we are. Johan's mother adores our children and loves to have sleepovers at her house. And Johan has been able to arrange to work only four days a week, even though he does spend a fair bit of time in front of the computer, such is his job. We are not super rich, but we want for little. I thank Johan and his shrewd investments for that, every day.

In fact, I thank Johan for a lot. I thank him for rescuing me from a life of boredom in a small town. I thank him for seeing in me, everything he wanted in a woman. I thank him for the love and care he shows our children and the love and care he shows me. For the things he's shown me and taught me, and for the things we share and learn together, I thank him every day of my life. Johan is not just responsible for what I have, but also for where and who I am.

I mean, here I am, an 'unsophisticated, average, small-town girl', married to a 'sophisticated, well-above-average, experienced city man'. I lived in a luxurious house in one of the best parts of town. Our street was one of the prettiest, with its large houses perched on spacious lawns surrounded by leafy and manicured gardens.

I know it was borne of insecurities that existed before I met him, but I often had the vague feeling that it was all a dream, and one day I would wake up back in 'Hellsville' (that's what I call Hallsville, where I grew up) and none of it really happened. Perhaps strangely, I felt like I didn't deserve my life, like I must have cheated somewhere along the way. It was like an echo, just a shadow of a doubt. Like it could all be taken away one day when Johan woke up and finally realised I was still just an 'unsophisticated, average, small-town girl'. Of course, these thoughts were fleeting and I always brushed them away as nonsense.

Every day that we've been married, he's told me how much he loves me, and usually more than once. He touches me all the time whether it's simply caressing my ass in passing, or a quick kiss in the kitchen while I'm cooking. He pays such attention and he never seems to interrupt me at the wrong time, which my girlfriends say happens to them all the time.

When he wants me, it's rare for me not to submit gleefully. I love him so much. He is so dominant and so passionate. And God, he's so big! And I don't just mean, 'down there'! He's tall and blonde and muscular and fortunately he can handle himself in a scuffle, so he doesn't get into many. And of course I'm tiny by comparison and weigh less than half he does, which means our sex is kind of one-sided. Like, he does what he wants, and I do as he says! I prefer it that way actually. I mean, he does what I want as well, but I usually have to ask. Or beg. Johan loves me to beg.

But I'm getting off track. Like I said, I love everything about him and everything about being with him. I don't know what I would do without him. Which makes what I've done so exciting, and at the same time so terribly scary and almost crazy. It's like tempting fate. On the one hand, I'm excited by the prospect of a fantasy actually coming true. I mean, Godddd, when I think about it, I can feel myself getting wet, and my hands start to tremble!

On the other hand, anything could happen. I might not like it. Or I might even get hurt, but Johan promised me I would be safe. But he also said in some cases, I might not know if he was there or not. That prospect made me shiver. I could really be at someone else's mercy! That's what made it both exciting and scary. But also, I wondered, what if I liked it too much?

I rubbed my thighs together as these thoughts flitted through my mind on Monday morning at 6.23 A.M. Johan was snoring softly, and after checking the time, I put my head down and closed my eyes for a few minutes more.

I wondered if Johan had a hard-on. Sometimes he got them in the mornings. "Mmmmm," I murmured quietly, imagining his cock in my mind, hard and straining. I've had a long-standing affection and curiosity about cocks. They're just... they're amazing! Some girls think cocks are just weird and funny looking. I bet that's because they've never had a good look at a nice, hard, throbbing cock up close. They are just beautiful. But I think the best part is they get hard all because of me. I think that's my favourite thing about them. They're just so direct.

Johan gets hard because of how he sees me and what I'm doing, and the pleasure I give him. I guess that's why sucking cock feels so natural to me. 'Pleasure from giving pleasure', you know? I love it. I love everything about it. And I mean everything! God, just the thought of sucking Johan's nice hard prick makes me wet. I love being on my knees, looking up at him and watching his face, his cock getting harder and harder in my hand or mouth. His loving fingers running through my hair and his sweet words of encouragement. Or sometimes, the nasty words that make my nipples harden and throb.

I love that with my mouth, I can make a cock hard and straight and strong, wanting to fuck me. I love that I can make a man's eyelids flutter and make him grit his teeth with the sensations provided by my lips and tongue alone. I love that I can make him moan and groan with pleasure. I love that I can make him crazy and that with my mouth, I can give a man the most intense pleasure he can feel.

To cum.

God.

If I suck well, it gets harder and harder and harder. Then it explodes if I've done really well. Johan bucks and moans and all that amazingly, nasty, gooey cum comes rushing out, sometimes in all directions, and it's incredible! It's from inside him. It's proof of the pleasure that I gave him. It makes me feel incredibly satisfied to know I am the source of that pleasure.

And Johan loves watching me swallow his cum. The taste doesn't really bother me. It's just... well, bland really, and kind of... I don't know... goopy. Sometimes it's vaguely salty, and sometimes it has a touch of a metallic aftertaste, which isn't pleasant. I've found a slice of lemon straight after does the trick! But honestly, it's not bad, and certainly not bad enough to detract from the whole point.

Which is, it's his essence. It's his lifeblood, his ecstasy. At that moment, when I swallow him down, I know I have pleased him. I know.

"Mmmmmmm..." I squirmed, running my fingernails over my breast. Johan's snoring grew a little louder. I was enjoying my thoughts and I didn't want to get out of bed yet. He always told me that if his snoring got too much, to turn him on his side. So I did as I'd been told. I was still half asleep as I moved into position to turn him.

Well! My hand slipped off his hip and across his abdomen to rest on his hot, rigid, pulsing cock. It was so hard and so hot I almost gasped. All of the thoughts I'd been having about sucking cock came crashing back as instinct took over and my fingers gently curled around it. I opened my eyes a little to spy on him. He was still sound asleep! I was so glad he was a heavy sleeper. A smile spread across my face. "Mmmmmm..."

I figured eventually he would wake up, but this was delicious and almost naughty. I swallowed. Softly and very slowly I squeezed his cock. He would hardly have felt it and he didn't react. I liked the idea that he was asleep and hard and that I could touch him. I licked my lips.

Then a new game came into my mind. It would be the 'See how long I can play with Johan's cock before he wakes up' game. Maybe I should have thought it was a bit wrong to play with my man's cock while he was asleep, but I didn't. The thought that I had his nice hard cock all to myself was making my clit tingle.

But, I decided, to play the game, he had to be asleep. My pussy, tender from last night's hard fucking, started to swell. I could feel a trickle of my juice dripping down across the inside of my thigh. I wanted to see his cock! Reluctantly, I slowly released it and drew back my hand.

I mustn't wake him, I thought, biting my lip. Ever so slowly I started to fold down the sheet, uncovering his muscular chest, then his torso. I tried to concentrate. I remembered to breathe and decided I had to think of a points system. I almost giggled and hushed myself. Johan mumbled something incomprehensible and I froze, watching his closed eyes. The sheet was almost off!

God, I chastised myself, I have to be quiet. I almost didn't get ANY points. Then I almost giggled again!

Before long he started quietly snoring once more and I lifted the sheet down and folded it across his muscular thighs, revealing his awesome cock. "Mmmmmm..." I moaned quietly, reaching for it. My mouth was dry. Gently propping myself up on my elbow near his hip, I wrapped my fingers lightly around it again and getting comfortable, I checked his eyes again. I decided if I could get him to cum while he was asleep, that would be the jackpot. That would be a hundred points! I shook my head and smiled. That would be almost impossible. Wetting the inside of my mouth with my tongue, I decided that pre-cum would be twenty points.

I ran my thumb over the head of his cock while I held it. Thick, slippery pre-cum welled up in front of my thumb and I smeared it around the head, making it shiny. "Yeahhh..." I said quietly, "twenty points..." I stifled a giggle and almost snorted.

This is such fun, I thought to myself, squeezing him lightly again. God, I can't believe he's so hard. By this time my breathing was starting to labour. I released slightly and reached lower down the shaft, then tightened a little and very slowly stroked upwards. In my mind I imagined the tube in his cock was full of pre-cum. I held my breath as my gentle fist moved higher. Then a huge silvery drop pulsed out, dripping slowly down the head and shaft, over the back of my fingers, then dripping in a thin, shimmering thread onto his stomach. It was such a hot sight. And I was only halfway up the shaft. I could score well here, I thought to myself, smiling.

As softly as I could, I readjusted my grip and started up the rest of the way to the head of his cock. Squeezing just a little, I watched entranced as pre-cum bubbled to the tip and dripped in an almost steady stream over my fingers and down to his tanned tummy. I tightened a little when I finally reached the top and the head of his cock flared red and throbbing above my grip. Somehow I managed to let go without waking him.