A Proper Good Morning
My husband is amazing. When they say “marry your best friend” it’s the truth. We love spending time together and can talk for hours. He knows my favorite coffee order, and I know what temperature he likes his bath. When we said our vows there wasn’t a dry eye in the whole church. We’re endgame babes.
Do we fight? Yeah. Of course. When he’s wrong, snacks magically appear. On the super rare occasion i’m wrong, well, a warm bath and a long massage earns lots of forgiveness. We have our differences, but we’re getting to that place where we know each other so well, that we can account for them before they become an issue.
Sex? The sex is great. Always has been.
It’s not a fairytale, but it’s close, and we’re happy.
His old college buddy, we’ll call him Jared, was visiting last weekend. So of course that means steaks, beers, and frantically cleaning up the guest bedroom. They are more brothers than friends, it’s really sweet. Hubby stands by the grill, already tipsy as they share a bottle of Jack, and I worry he’s gonna set his beard on fire. Jareds clean cut with one of those deep laughs that I can hear from in the kitchen. Honestly, they could be brothers.
Steaks eaten, beers drank, and my wonderful goofball tucked into bed snoring. He never could hold his whiskey.
I wash the dishes while Jared sits at the table. We talk a bit, I tell him there are spare blankets in the chest at the foot of the guest bed, he asks how I like being married to a drunk?
I laugh.
“ We’re good, he’s good to me.” I say as I bend over to load the dishwasher.
Jared has moved. When I straighten up he is standing close to me, leaning against the counter. He smells like smoke and whiskey and cedar. I almost forget what we’re talking about.
“ He still have that hang up about going down on women?”
He asked it so casually. I’m wasn’t sure how to respond. Should I be angry? I feel like I should be angry. I should tell him it’s none of his fucking business what my husband and I do in our bedroom.
But that hesitation was enough. That brief moment of confusion and silence was enough. Pushing off from the counter, he gave me one of those deep laughs and said,
“ I’ll talk to him. Goodnight, and thanks for dinner.”
I finished the dishes and wiped the counters. I took a shower and brushed my teeth. I washed my face and slipped into bed. I turned to my husband, who smelled of smoke and whiskey, I wrapped my arm around him and sank my face into his chest.
“I love you.” I whispered.
I whispered it again and again and again, until finally, I fell asleep.
The bed was empty when I woke up. I know because even with closed eyes I can feel the warmth of my husband. I reached out a hand just incase we had drifted too far apart in the night.
Empty.
I pulled the covers over my head. I wasn’t ready to face the day, or the guest who , from the smell of it, was drinking coffee in our kitchen.
“I’ll talk to him”, that’s what he said. He was drunk. We all were. He’s probably embarrassed.
I settled into the pillows a bit more relaxed. I’ll forgive him. We’ll chalk it up to the whiskey, everything will be back to normal, and it’ll be our little secret. I’m such a good person, I think that earns me a bit of sleeping in time. I drifted off again, much easier than last night, and second sleep always brings the wildest dreams.
I dreamt I was at the beach. I could feel the warmth of the sun kissing my face, down my neck, across my chest. The waves were breaking gently at my feet. In the air was the undeniable scent of salt and cedar.
I opened my eyes and smiled down at the very husband shaped mass wiggling beneath the covers.
His hands were warm as they traveled up the outside my thighs and kissed my belly. I parted my legs for him and felt his arms snake under as he planted kisses up each of my inner thighs.
Jared was wrong. My husband adores me. Like I said, he’s good to me.
I slide down the bed with a moan as he yanked my hips up and spread my legs wider. God I love when he plays with me over my panties. I can feel his tongue, warm and wet, licking the edges of them and nibbling my clit through the fabric. I’m already wet for him.
He reaches across and hooks one of the edges with his finger, peeling them to the side so he can have full access to my needy pussy and throbbing clit. I moan lightly as his tongue works its way into me. I want more and he knows it. He gives me gentle kisses down my wet lips before running his tongue right up the center, right to my clit, my hips buck as he pulls it into his mouth.
Licking and sucking as his fingers slide into me and I am right on the edge. I grind into his face, and some far off part of me notices, it’s smooth. The blankets rustle and from them comes, the undeniable scent of cedar.
I try to pull away. The covers slip and I am looking, not into the misty gray eyes of my husband, but the golden brown of our house guest, Jared. Before I can say anything his hand is over my mouth. My head feels light. I can barely make out what he saying to me.
“You were being such a good girl. You were being such a good little slut for me.”
I think i’m going to cry, but he keeps going.
“Just let me finish, I know you were close, I could feel it, just let me finish and I promise I won’t tell your husband how you spread your legs for me.”
I don’t know what to do. I think I’m in shock, I can barely breathe. I relax back into the bed.
“ Good girl.”
My legs are trembling as he yanks my hips up again, practically resting my ass on his chest, I can see into his eyes as he leans down to kiss my pussy. I feel so exposed. My legs resting on his shoulders as he bends and gives me one long lick, right up the center. My clit jumps. It is all the encouragement he needs. Sticking out his tongue he laps quickly at my clit and I can feel my juices flowing. I tuck my head into the pillow. Looking up, he says between licks.
“ I don’t think so slut, look at me. I want to see your face when I make you cum.”
I can’t. I won’t.
“I said look at me. I won’t ask again.”
I pry my face out of the pillow. I don’t recognize my thighs clutched in his hands. Is this my body?
“Good girl. Mmm, you’re doing such a good job, let’s give you a reward.”
He sucks my clit between his lips and the seal is perfect. His tongue is perfect. My back arches. He alternates between lapping that tender spot on the right side of my clit and sucking it into his mouth until I am panting. His finger find their way into my wet hole and curl right against my g-spot. I grab the sheets and feel the first wave of my orgasm. He doesn’t take his mouth off as he groans.
“Good girl, cum for me.”
I go still as the wave breaks, and then let out a moan and a gush of wetness as I cum hard, humping his tongue and riding his fingers while he devours me. Afterwards I go limp in his arms, my thighs quivering, as he gently sets my hips back down on the bed.
He climbs on top of me, and I press against his shoulders, my heart racing from the orgasm and fear. He makes a hushing sound in my ear.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m not gonna fuck you. I just needed to taste you. You came so beautifully for me. I might want to taste you again.”
He leaned over and kissed me. I can feel my wetness on his chin. He whispers into my lips.
“ It’ll be our little secret.”
I look at him, really look at him, and I relax back into the bed.
“ There she is, that’s my good girl.” He says as he gives me a slow, deep, kiss on the forehead.
He shuts the door behind him. I press my face back into the pillow. My clit is throbbing, my nipples are hard, and I can’t escape the undeniable scent of pussy juice and cedar.