Chapter 1: Donna

We were lying on our bed, buck naked. The lighting was limited to the small night-light shining through the open door to our bathroom. I could see just enough to know that the man in my arms was indeed my husband, my lover, the father of my children. Briefly the hands, the mouths, the bodies of all the other men I've known flew past my consciousness – and conscience – but I pushed them away for another time.

As we kissed, our tongues entwined, saliva flowing back and forth. My mouth left his and moved down to his nipples. He squeaked, almost a giggle, and then he groaned. It was not a groan of pain but rather one of pleasure and he pulled my face into his chest.

I gasped as two fingers, the middle 'fuck you' digit and the ring finger right next to it, explored inside me, seeking as always that little piece of my inner self known as the g-spot. My lubrication, ever available, oozed out of my pussy. By itself, my own aroma brought me toward an orgasm. My legs tightened to avoid that result; it was a result that could only be enjoyed by the use of an erect cock. That's right; fingers and tongues can give me an orgasm, and that's ok as far as it goes, but for a fantastic CUM, I really need a hard cock blasting its creamy gift into my pussy.

He wasn't yet erect as my mouth bent toward that beautiful cock that had given me two wonderful children, one of each flavor, both now happily away at college. Taking it – the cock, not the college - in my hand, I squeezed the crown, my tongue swiping at the teeny little wet spot, that double-use slit that was used to delivering pearly cum and yellow piss. My tongue traced the underside of his lance until it reached his balls. My lips wrapped around them, washing his wrinkled sac. With my hand holding the base of his shaft, I began to jerk him off, toward making him cum in my mouth.

He moaned as my hand worked on the project that all boys learn when they're still teens, when there are no mothers or sisters or school sluts ready and willing to clean his pipes. And so my hand began to jerk his cock faster and faster. But like an experienced courtesan, fuck that, like an experienced woman, I knew that it takes a while for a cock to regenerate enough for a second orgasm. And as I just mentioned, I didn't want to waste one in my mouth, no matter how sweet the taste of his cream, no matter how lovingly he fills my mouth. So I had to slow down.

Regretfully I removed my hand, gave a quick suck on his crown, and placed his own hand on his cock. My fingers entwined with his as I used his fingers to help him masturbate. I've found, during my misspent youth, that few boys or men are willing to let a woman see them jerk off. Maybe they fear that she will think the less of him or worse, that he'll embarrass her by making her think that she alone can't get him to cum. Whatever. I see it differently; I'm flattered that he will let me in on this innermost secret. Anyway, he finally tired of playing with his cock without any satisfaction. I think it was because I didn't have the strength to pull his pecker as hard as he could. Must be a boy thing.