AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Real good.
But sometimes, I need, want more. Sometimes I want them lips, that tongue, to go lower. Need my smooth-shaven balls in her mouth, her tongue sweeping around my asshole. Dipping in it. Tonguing it. Sometimes, I want her to slip a finger inside my ass and massage my prostate.
But that’ll never happen. Not with Krista. Not the way I need it.
Now, hold up. Let me finish before you start twisting your lips up and passing judgment. I already know what some of you lames are thinking: What the fuck? Ass play?
Yeah, I’m a man—a straight man, be clear—who wants, nah, loves, ass play. It’s my fetish, my deep, dark secret. One I wish I didn’t have to keep from Krista. One I’d rather share and enjoy with her, my lover, my wife.
But I can’t. I won’t. That particular desire happens to be some shit she’s not into. Not that I’ve flat out asked her to slide her tongue, or her finger, inside my ass. But I’ve asked her, numerous times, to lick my balls, to gently suck them into her mouth. And she’s failed miserably at each attempt.
She tells me my balls are too big, that her mouth can’t fit them in. Or she sucks them too roughly, grazes them with too much teeth. So I’ve stopped asking her. Shit. My thing is, after almost twelve years of marriage, I shouldn’t have to ask her, or coach her, or teach her, how to suck this dick and lick on these balls. Hell, I shouldn’t have to tell her how to please me, period. She should already know! She should want to explore more. Should want to be more adventurous. Should want to freak me. And allow me to freak her.
But she doesn’t.
She can’t.
She won’t.
Sadly put, Krista doesn’t know how to let go. My wife’s painstakingly conservative when it comes to sex. She believes firmly in what roles—and positions—there should be in the bedroom. Missionary, doggy-style, spooning—those are her three positions. Anything else is too much for her. So in a word, my wife’s a prude. Like I said, the pussy’s good. But that’s it. Creativity and openness are nonexistent.
So there’s no way I can ever ask her to let down her guard and allow her tongue and fingers to explore my ass. Freak and Krista just doesn’t go in the same sentence. And it damn sure isn’t going to ever exist in the same room.
Hell, the one time I gently broached the subject to test the waters by—hypothetically speaking—asking her, her thoughts on men who enjoy having their ass licked and fingered, I thought she was about to hit the floor. I’d stretched the truth and told her some cat was talking about how he loved having it done to him and only dated women who enjoyed doing it.
Krista’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Ohmygod! He’s a real nasty freak asking his woman to do some shit like that,” she snapped. “What kind of nastiness is that? A man wanting his ass licked and fingered.”
Yeah, a man like me, I thought as I calmly stated, “He claimed it feels good.”
She tilted her head. Frowned. Gave me a questioning look, then said, “He must be gay then, because no real man’s liking a tongue in his ass. And he’s definitely not going to openly admit some shit like that feeling good. And then turn around and say he wants a finger stuffed up in it. Oh, no. He’s down low and nasty. Sorry. But a real man is never letting anyone or anything go anywhere near his ass.” She grunted, frowning up her face while shaking her head. “I don’t know not one woman willing to be nasty enough to lick up in some man’s ass like it’s a vagina.”
Inwardly, I cringed. But outwardly, I laughed. “Come on, baby. You really think a man’s gay if he wants his woman to tongue him back there, or insert a finger inside him?”
She grimaced. “Yes, I think he and any other man wanting that nasty mess is gay. And if he isn’t, then he’s damn sure on his way to being gay.”
Her tone rang with so much conviction and disgust that I thought my ears would start bleeding. I always knew Krista could be rigid in her thinking, but hearing those words solidified exactly how closed-minded my wife really was.
My body tensed.
“Damn, baby. Don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard? They say the prostate is a man’s version of a woman’s G-spot.”
She gave me an incredulous look. “Oh, I’m hardly exaggerating. You asked me my opinion, and I’m sharing it. And who in the heck is they?”
Shit.
I hadn’t meant to say that. Trying to educate Krista on how a man’s prostate is called his sacred spot,
like that of the G-spot in a woman and how tantric philosophy describes it as a man’s emotional sex center would have turned the conversation into an ugly fight filled with accusations, leaving her doubting my manhood and questioning my masculinity. So there was no way I could enlighten her on the joys of prostate stimulation—of how the lobes of the prostate are highly sensitive and when stroked through the rectal wall can cause ecstatic, mind-blowing pleasure—without sounding like a man who’d had a few fingers wedged in his ass over the years of our marriage.
“Someone asked him what he got out of being fingered,” I lied, masking my own hidden desires, “and licked back there and he said it was one of the most intense, most pleasurable orgasms he’d ever had.”
That was my reality. One she would never know about.
She gave me a blank look. “You’re joking, right? Sounds like he was trying to recruit him a few good ass lickers and some hard dick. I’ve never heard some mess like that. And I don’t know if it’s true or not. All I know is, the prostate and a man’s ass aren’t there for fingering. A straight man’s pleasure is not coming from having a tongue or finger anywhere near his asshole.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me here?”
I gave her an incredulous look, repeating in my head what she’d just asked me. Is there something you’re trying to tell me? “Where is that coming from? There’s nothing to tell. How did this all of a sudden become about me?”
She tilted her head, seemingly unconvinced. “I don’t know. You seem a bit animated about some man getting his ass tongued.”
