Helen’s concerned expression vanished, replaced by an adoring smile. “Oh, Harrison,” she whispered, immediately turning her whole body to face me. She peered deeply into my eyes and brought both her hands to my face. “That is the sweetest thing you have ever said to me.”
She kissed me tenderly and passionately, her eyes rolling back into her head like they used to before we got married.
As she pulled her soft lips away, breathing in a sigh, she whispered. “And I want to make love to my husband.”
“Hold that thought,” I said, jumping up to grab my mix tape, I popped it into the boom box on the dresser.
“Oh, no!” Helen laughed as she protested. “Not the mix tape.”
“Yes,” I said, hitting the play button. “The mix tape.” I jumped back into bed. “Come on,” I said, pulling her into me, and giving her a soft kiss. “You never even heard it yet. You just think they’re stupid.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s because mix tapes are fucking stupid.”
“Not this one.”
Just then, “Feel Like Making Love” by Bad Company began.
Helen let out a sharp, loud laugh of scorn, shaking her head and smiling her movie-star smile. “Fucking stupid,” she said.
“Just roll with it,” I said, kissing her. “For me.”
Her derisive smile faded. She kissed back. “Okay, Harry.” She pulled me into her embrace. “For you.”
We kissed again, melting into each other, the iconic guitar riff of the chorus in that song playing in the background.
I don’t know how long the kissing lasted. Time and the world ceased to exist.
As I finally stirred from our blissful, trance-like make-out session, I found myself on top of my wife.
Moving my lips from hers, I kissed and licked her chin and neck all the way down to the beautiful nook between her collarbone.
Hungrily attacking and adoring her tits with my hands and mouth, I greedily massaged them and suckled her nipples to eraser tips, I made a circuitous path of kisses along her abdomen to her naval and fucked it with the tip of my tongue.
Helen moaned in delight.
Anticipating my journey’s destination, her hips began to writhe and gyrate.
I licked my way down to her pussy mound, feeling the razor stubble on my lips and chin, and biting her meaty flesh. I softly licked all around her pussy, but not touching it, and merely brushing her already engorged clit with my passing lips.
Led Zeppelin played in the background, “… Little drops of rain, whisper of the pain…
Tears of love’s lost in the days gone by…
My love is strong, with you there is no wrong…
Together we shall go until we die, my, my, my…”
I lifted and bit the meaty flesh of her inner legs, licked the warm crooks between her thighs and pussy mound, and then I ran my tongue lightly up her vulva, fluttering it with feathery pressure as I went.
She pushed her hot, wet pussy at my mouth, urgently offering it up for a more thorough eating. I greeted it with the flat of my whole tongue, lapped slowly up her cunt like a dog several times and then softly licked and sucked her bulbous clit into my mouth.
Helen cried out, grabbing my head in both hands. Her body trembled as I suckled and speed-bagged her clitorus with the tip of my tongue.
“Oh, Harry,” she called out softly, her voice an airy whine.
I pushed my tongue deep into her soaked and silky canal, exploring its hot, wet depths.
Helen groaned in approval.
Back up to her fleshy knob, down again on the insides of her pussy lips, and back up to where I started, again and again, I ate her pussy alive. Drinking in her juices, I enjoyed the blissfully sublime tastes and aromas of her vagina.
Increasing the speed and pressure of my efforts, I nibbled, licked and kissed her whole pussy, but always returned to concentrate on her clit.
Her hips began to pump as I sucked her blossoming clitoris up into my mouth for the tenth or fifteenth time. She moaned loudly and clutched my hair in her fists.
“Oh, Harry!” she cried out, breathlessly, her whole body bucking. “I’m going to cum so fucking good!”
I pulled my head away and said, “Not yet, Baby,” climbing quickly up her body, I kissed her deeply and put the head of my hard cock against her opening.
I Want to Know What Love Is by Foreigner began playing on the mix tape. I didn’t care for it, but I knew it was one of Helen’s favorite songs.
She trembled in my arms, her eyes closed and her brow knitted in tight wrinkles.
“Look at me, Helen,” I whispered. She opened her eyes and looked into mine.
Moving the head of my cock on her pussy, much like my tongue had moved, I drank in the passion in her eyes.
“Fuck me, Harry,” she pleaded, urgently pulling at my cock with one hand, and my ass cheek with the other. Never breaking eye contact, she wrapped her legs around mine, and attempted pulling my cock into her.
She lifted her hips and strained, but I resisted and only the head of my cock slid into her.
Her hips bucked, swirling her pussy around the inserted tip. With pleading eyes, she panted and whined, “Don’t tease me, Baby. Give it to me. Please, Harry.”
She put both hands on my ass cheeks and strained harder, whining and panting. Her hips swirling in a frenzy.
The chorus began, “I want to know what love is… I want you to show me… I want to feel what love is… I know you can show me…”
“Fuck me, Harry!” she cried, begging me with her eyes. “Please, Baby! Fill me up!”
Still resisting, I said, “Tell me you love me.”
Her eyes widened, her brow rose into an arch and she nodded repeatedly. “I love you, Harry! I do! I love you so fucking much!”
Drinking in her reaction, I pushed my cock, slowly, all the way into my wife. Her eyes rolled back into her head, breaking our eye contact, and she groaned loudly, her whole body shaking as I bottomed out, filling her up.
I grabbed a handful of her long, thick hair, nibbled her ear and whispered into it, “I love you, too, Helen.”
Then I pumped her firmly but softly as she met my thrusts with her own.
We fucked and kissed with raw, intense passion, her clawing at my butt, hips and back, me pulling her hair with one hand and caressing her from her tit to her ass cheek with the other.
She began letting out the long low moans that signaled her orgasm was imminent. Her body tensed up and the speed of her pumping increased. I matched her speed and I thrust my cock harder into her pussy.
Our rhythmic pounding took us both to the precipice, and as Helen began to spasm and cry out incoherently in the throws of a powerful climax, I felt my own orgasm stir, build up, course through my pelvis and surge out of me and shoot into her.
Her arms and legs wrapped around me hard, and her body shook.
We came together, cheek to cheek and clutching one another with all our strength, as I shot all my cum into her and she took everything I had to give.
After my entire store had emptied inside her, we collapsed in a heap and both fought to catch our breath for several seconds.
We were drenched in sweat, and thoroughly winded, but both smiling contentedly in the afterglow of our incredibly intense and simultaneous release.
“We came together,” Helen said, letting out a little giggle.
That was rare. If we were sober, I usually came long before Helen. If we were drunk, Helen usually came several times before I did.
There had only been a handful of occasions we had actually cum in unison. The first time we had sex in my mother’s basement apartment was one. Our wedding night was another, and this night, the night before our foursome was a third. There were others, but those were usually accidental. I had planned those three memorable ones, and all three were inspired by my love for this woman.
I lifted my head and nodded, smiling, and looking into her eyes.
She still fought for air, but looked sated and giddy with delight. “Harry… that was glorious.”
I chuckled. “Whew,” I said, “Yes it was. Do you think your pretty boy, Brad, will ever make you cum like that?”
Helen blinked, her eyes suddenly wide with surprise at the question.
I got up and shut off the mix tape right at the beginning of “Light My Fire” by the Doors.
Helen beamed at me from the bed, her movie-star smile broader than ever. “So, you ARE jealous of Brad.” She looked quite pleased.
“Of course, I am.” I sat down and grabbed our Newports and a lighter off the nightstand. “You’ve been wanting to fuck that guy since you met him.”
I took a cigarette out and lit it with the Zippo.
“How the hell did you know that?” She asked, pushing up to a sitting position and resting her back against the headboard. “I mean what exactly clued you in that I wanted to fuck him. Oh, and I’ll take one of those, too, please.” She pointed at the pack of smokes I had just tossed back onto the nightstand.
I took a long drag from my lit cig and offered it to her. “Let’s just share.”
She took it and said, “Well? What made you so certain I wanted to fuck Brad?”
I shrugged. “Lots of little things. Calling him Patrick all the time, the way you looked at him, how you moved around him. Everything.”
“Oh, my God,” she said, blowing smoke out her nose. “Was it that obvious?”
“Apparently… Janet picked up on it, too.”
“Yeah, she did. And what is up with you two?”
I shrugged and shook my head. “Nothing. What?”
“Nothing? I was shocked when you both confessed to having the hots for each other. I thought you hated her and she hated you. What the fuck is that? You know you’re both a couple of fucking sneaks, right? You know that.”
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