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“Uh,” Anna gasped, clenching the end of the tables.
Her knuckles whitened from the pressure she applied. The lump she swallowed in her throat was as loud as the breath she took right after.
“Malachi,” she begged, unsure of what she was even begging for.
Pleasure? Leniency? Dick? Tongue?She had no idea what she wanted with me.
“Quiet down, Anna, and be a big fucking girl,” I warned before sucking her flesh into my mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” she exclaimed as her body imploded.
Around and around, I twirled my tongue on her clit. It was my main focus because I knew it would crumble her at the core. After fourteen years of exploring her body, I knew every button to press, every spot to kiss, and every hole to breach in order to make her ooze. Getting Anna to cum wasn’t the problem—deciding when and where and how was always my issue.
Her mound was tasteful. I thoroughly enjoyed every note that seeped from her flesh. Still focused on her clit, I employed my fingers to assist in the utter undoing of my wife. Her slipperiness made the entry of my middle and index fingers fairly easy. Turning them upward, I motioned for her climax to come to me.
Come ’er. I studied her proximity, brushing against the internal bulb that triggered her sensitivity and made her body jerk.
“Malachi,” she moaned.
“Malachi,” she groaned.
And when I felt her body tense and limbs stiffen, she sang, “Malachiiiiiiiiiiii.”
The cream that filled her center, like she was a cake on the grocery store shelf, bled into my mouth. She was a gusher, but of the thickest, creamiest ejaculation one would ever witness. I’d seen it on our television screen only a few times as we both indulged in mind-boggling porn consumption that left us a bit hotter and hornier prior to our own session. Too viscous to squirt, it slid from her canal in droves.
“Oh, ba-baby. Malachi. Please.”
This time, the reasoning behind her plea was apparent. She was desperate to taste the fruits of my labor. Refusing to make her lie in wait, I hovered over her with both of my hands near her shoulders on each side and lowered my lips until they met hers.
Hungrily, she lapped up the remnants her pussy left behind. The feeling of her tongue sparked a revolution in my pants. I freed the hostages with one hand, using the other to keep me from collapsing onto Anna’s body. One leg at a time, I slid out of the linen, still entangled and enjoying the feeling of my wife’s tongue nearly down my damn throat until it wasn’t anymore.
“Hmmm,” I grunted, lifting and scooting upward until my dick touched the tip of her tongue, “I got some better for you to suck on.”
The sinister gleam that flashed within her eyes was both alarming and anticipated. The shift in her demeanor meant one thing—her alter ego had arrived. She was a disgustingly bad bitch, one that I could call anything, do whatever to, and break every boundary that my precious Anna had in place.
When she transformed, there were no limits to where she’d go and how much she’d endure. She was just the person I needed to see for the dirty deed at hand. I wanted her to suck the meat off my fucking bone if she could, dismissing the politeness and properness she possessed otherwise. That wouldn’t work for what I had in mind.
There wasn’t room to wonder. Anna opened her mouth to accommodate me, trying to digest me whole in the process. I was far too big of a boy for that to happen, however. I knew it, and so did she. Pride put her up for the challenge, but it was one left unaccomplished. It didn’t matter how talented she was or how long she’d been sticking my dick down her throat.
“Slow down, greedy,” I warned, stroking Anna’s soft hair and staring down into her curious eyes.
Taking heed, she breathed a cloud of oxygen from her nose and readjusted her angle, pushing me forward and inviting me further into her wide hole. She used her mouth as a suction cup, drawing me closer and giving me complete access to every inch of it. Slowly, I began to stroke her, saliva pooling in the corners of her lips while simultaneously lubricating my dick.
“Fuuu—fuck.”
Anna’s cool fingers addressed the skin of my ass, landing directly on my cheeks again while she held me in place before urging me to go deeper, further. Obliging, I pushed forward, thrusting into her with little reservation, knowing she was a seasoned professional and could handle what I was tossing in her direction.
My dick glistened as I pulled it from her mouth completely, demanding she took a breath. She gasped, allowing the pent-up oxygen to flow from her lungs and into the air. And, then, I was back in, again. This time, Anna’s mouth wasn’t my only kryptonite. Her slim, sculpted fingers joined in my unmanning.
Using her personal lubrication, she massaged my balls, working her way up toward my shaft. Each hand twisted in a different direction as she lifted her head from the table, firing me from the job I’d employed myself for. She refused to accept my assistance and stroked my shit by elongating her neck. The rhythm and perfect timing of each twist and bob of her head left me dazed.
Clenching a fist full of her beautiful hair, I bit into my bottom lip. My orbs penetrated her skin, admiring every inch of her face. It was the most delicate thing I’d ever laid eyes on as a boy and the most invaluable thing in any room she entered in adulthood. Every feature, every flaw, was perfectly positioned, captivating everyone in her presence and deeming her flawless when it all boiled down.
“Suck—tha-that dick, An—na.”
My destruction was near. With every slurp of her lips, I could feel my dismantling approaching. And my wife did her best to make sure it happened swiftly. The tension that rose in my body was her source of motivation, encouraging her to work harder.
“Fuuuuuc—”
