That cunnilingus session I recently posted about was unique in that we had the time and space to indulge a favorite sex act of mine.
At home I often ate my wife out prior to intercourse. This would happen in our bed, with my legs tangled in the bed clothes and my neck straining back so I could deeply lick her vulva. I often ejaculated while doing this because I enjoyed her taste and moaning feedback so much that it often drove me over the edge. Not that it mattered much since recovery was quick and my second orgasm took longer, affording her ample pleasure from penetration. We sixty-nined quite a bit too as she did not always desire penetration. I took the superior position for these suck and lick fests with my feet thrashing about the headboard as we brought each other to climax. More accurately I brought myself to orgasm from the heady turn-on of sucking and tonguing on her pussy. The increased pressure of my mouth against her vulva and my agitated nose breathing caused by my impending orgasm coupled with the swelling of my already rigid cock in her mouth would trigger her orgasm. When we came she went wild sucking, taking my cock into her throat as deep as she was able, while grunting in pleasure and greedily swallowing my ejaculate.
For this vacation trip we rented a condo on the beach at South Padre Island. The Texas gulf coast was hot and humid and the Gulf waters were warm. The condo wasn’t elegant but it was spacious and the Gulf view and attendant breeze was delightful. My vacation philosophy was to go someplace nice and then do little to nothing except to enjoy it.
I had a zippered travel enema kit that consisted of a latex folding douche bag – probably a Sojourn model, a couple of douche tips, a tin tube of KY Jelly, some cord, a few shower curtain hooks, an old handkerchief to stuff into the latex bag and an extra-long length of latex tubing. The first morning there I gave myself an enema in the bathroom, finishing with a strong orgasm and a nice rush from the resulting evacuation. After my enema session we did some beach walking and wading, studiously avoiding the naturally occurring tar balls that wash up with the tide.
When we returned to the room we noticed that the air conditioner wasn’t able to keep up with the increased temperature and humidity. My wife thought too uncomfortable for close bodily contact but was willing to let me go down on her in the sling chair. At the time she was a petite woman with A-cup breasts that featured proportional yet prominent nipples. Her bush was trimmed for bathing suit wear but otherwise full.
That chair was the perfect shape and size for her stature. She slouched forward until the juncture of her thighs and butt were hanging over the edge of the canvas. With the drapes fully open and the surf roaring in the distance I knelt between her splayed legs and began to eat her out. Her secretions acted on me like the heady cocktail of aphrodisiacs they were. I picked up my tonguing pace and labia sucking (her vulva was an innie). Her clit swelled as I teased it with the tip of my tongue. Glancing up I observed her sweat-covered chest redden and her nipples stiffen. Every so often my hands cupped her small breasts and my roving fingers mildly pinched her hard nipples.
I do not recall if I ejaculated during this cunnilingus marathon. It is likely I did, but I became so wrapped up eating her pussy and feeling her ride out her orgasms that I was lost to everything except my mouth and tongue and her pleasure. When we finally ended this lengthy oral love making we were both dripping sweat and exhausted. We showered together and ventured out for supper, leaving to dry both my enema bag on the shower curtain rod and the exceedingly wet canvas chair in the middle of the living room. The juncture at the bottom of my tongue ached for days after due to the strain of stretching it out.
My ex-wife was willing and eager to preform fellatio, but it was rare that she could bring me to orgasm from a blow job. She was enthusiastic but could not do it skillfully. She lacked the imagination to experiment and I lack the communication ability to offer guidance. I never complained, nor did she express any reluctance to go down on me. In fact, most of my sexual advances were met with suggestions of blow/hand jobs in lieu of penetration.
One occasion when she was in the mood for sexually pleasing me I opted for an enema and a blow job, which up until this point – at 31 years old yet, had been an unstated fantasy of mine. While I prepared the enema she stripped down to bra and panties. Nude, I spread my enema towel in the center/foot of the bed and handed her my ten years old red rubber combination bag. I inserted the lubed douche tip into my anus and got comfortable on my back. As always before an enema, I had a rigid erection.
She opened the metal clamp and held the full enema bag up in her left hand before deciding to hold it close to her chest between her breasts where it remained until it puckered flat. While the enema solution flowed I massaged my swelling abdomen and reveled in the sight of being given an enema instead of doing it solo. The enema felt good and I was primed for a fantastic orgasm.
I instructed my ex to close the clamp and put the empty combination bag on the bed beside my hips. Once that minor chore was done she engulfed my steel hard erection with her mouth and proceeded to give me the most unerotic, non-stimulating, mediocre blow job possible. She was trying, no question, but she wasn’t just doing it for me. It felt good but it wasn’t getting me there. Normally this would not have been a problem as I would have done something to help but I was holding in two quarts of enema solution. I closed my eyes and fantasized something or other very dirty enough to get me over the orgasm precipice. As far as I know she thought she did fine (that communication thing again). I thanked her, rolled off the bed and went to empty my full bowels.