(L) – This story contains strong language.
It was a few days before Christmas, and the baby had already gone down for the night. A winter storm raged outside of our cozy apartment while soft Christmas music played, and colorful Christmas lights gleamed off of our tree. Shiny ornaments and candy canes adorned it, and three stockings hung on the wall. It was just me and him now and nothing else to do.
Earlier that day we had all wrapped gifts together; me, my handsome man, and my baby girl. I let her pick the wrapping paper for each gift, and she helped put the gifts in each bag. My heart was filled with joy today as I marveled at the sweet girl God had blessed us with as she made her first Christmas memories. Last year she was still a baby, but now she was walking and talking. Watching her participate for the first time really warmed my heart.
The weather is usually bad this time of year in the Midwest, but this winter storm was one of the bad ones, which meant there was a higher likelihood of sliding into a snow bank than there was of making it to work, but I was positively delighted to be stuck at home.
No work meant I got to spend all day and all night with my husband. Usually he’d be off to work during the day, and I would work during the evening hours, but not today. Today we were all together. Me and my little perfect family, and now just me and the love of my life.
He proposed an idea to me tonight.
“Hey, my beard needs shaving. If I mix you up a drink with that eggnog we bought, do you think you could shave it for me?”
Well, how could I refuse an offer like that? He recently decided to shave off his hair as well, so he also wanted me to shave his head. His love language is physical touch, so although he can shave it himself, it always feels special when I do it. It’s a simple act, but it makes him feel loved, so usually I do it for him.
He keeps his beard but trims it and shapes it. His decision to shave his head was because his hair wasn’t the thickest mane ever, and kept getting thinner on top over time. It really wasn’t that noticeable from an outside perspective, but it was always an insecurity for him and he was always fixing his hair.
He got sick of it one day and asked what I’d think if he just shaved it off. I told him I’d support any decision he’d make, and would think he’s handsome with or without his hair. Ever since he shaved it off, he hasn’t worried at all about it, and that was definitely worth it—not because it looked bad by any means, but for his peace of mind.
Sipping on my eggnog, I shaved his head as we sat together in the living room. The buzzing of the shaver hummed for a few minutes while I worked. By the time I was done, I was feeling a little buzzed too. Shaving for him isn’t always a catalyst for sex, but there is something about it that makes the both of us feel closer and more intimate.
It breaks the touch barrier in an easy way while keeping the pressure off. This tends to be important, considering my history of sexual trauma, as sometimes even just cuddling or kissing can make me feel pressured or anxious, which is a real mood killer. I know I have no reason to feel that way, but I still do at times.
Getting back to the story at hand…
After we were done with the shaving, I started kissing him. The more I kissed him, the more I started giggling, because I was so happy to be right where I was that it felt almost mischievous. Pretty soon we were both laughing in between kisses.
“Do you want something from me?” he asked in between laughs.
“Yes!” I laughed. “I want your penis!”
“Okay!” he replied. “I can help with that!”
As he got up from the couch to move towards the bedroom, I positioned myself on my knees, stopping him before he reached the door.
“Oh, okay!” he said, surprised. “Right here?”
I responded by pulling down his pants and going right for what I was after, licking his dick right away.
“Oh my gosh!” he said, shocked again. “Yes!”
I started sucking only a few seconds after I started licking, taking him into my mouth fully as his erection grew. I can take him fully, despite my admittedly small mouth—up until a certain point.
When he’s fully erect, it’s quite difficult to do, and I can only achieve it by deep throating him, which I can’t do for very long. Luckily, he doesn’t make me try this for very long at a time—not that I really could. Between the fact that my mouth is very small and his penis is well, not small, it doesn’t work out.
Tonight, however, I did proceed to deep throat him, which made me gag as I took his full length into my throat. But that didn’t stop me tonight. I reveled in the feeling of him in the back of my throat with pride, as he grabbed my hair and fucked my face.
I felt a new level of submission to him, knowing that I was perfectly comfortable letting him use me this way. It was so hot the way he pulled my hair in a firm but loving way. It allowed him to be in control, but his hand didn’t yank or pull painfully, as an inexperienced grip might. He had full control over where my head was positioned. I rested and relaxed, because he knew how far to go, how far was too far, and how to handle me roughly without hurting me.
This is what makes married sex better: the trust and the knowledge of the other person allows you to go further in complete comfort. The more you communicate and experience, the more you’re able to do with each other, and the better it is when you do.
At some point we moved to the bed. After he was done using my throat, he had me bend over on the bed and gave me what I really wanted. Positioning my hips how he wanted, he pulled me toward him, entering me from behind.
I immediately began moaning and saying, “Yes!” as he fucked me hard, calling me a good girl for taking his cock. He told me how slutty I had been, and how naughty I was, only increasing my wetness and pleasure at the thought of it.
“Yes, I am such a slut!” I admitted. “I am YOUR slut!”
“Good girl! You are my slut!” he said before firmly slapping my ass. I felt myself slipping forward on the bed due to the force behind his thrusts, and he responded by pulling me back towards him again as if I weighed nothing.
“Yes!” I moaned. “Fuck me! I’m cumming!”
He kept up the pace and I felt him ramming into me as I came, feeling an additional wave of pleasure with each thrust, filling me to my heart’s content while I moaned. I felt my vagina clasp tightly around him, pulling him in, allowing me to feel every part of him and every bit of pleasure that could be felt. Every thrust felt magnified in this state.
He paused for a moment as my orgasm concluded. As I was recovering, I still felt as though I was floating on the endorphins.
“Lay down,” he ordered.
I didn’t even think of doing anything other than what he said to do.
He entered me from above this time, hardly giving me time to catch my breath. Each thrust continued to light up my nervous system with pleasure until he pulled out and spilled his semen on my cunt. He caught his breath, leaning over me with his hands firmly planted on either side of me.
I heard and felt his hot, heavy breaths on my face and chest. I felt like I had been claimed by him again in a very primal sense, and there is no one I would rather belong to.
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