A More Dominant Wife - Part 2

Click here to read the previous parts of the story.

It’s the morning after your surprisingly thrilling encounter – the one that included giving your first rimjob – with your wife. A weight on your chest lures you from sleep. You open your eyes to see your wife sitting on you with a smile on her face.

“Good morning,” she says.

She went to sleep in a satin camisole and a matching pair of satin shorts with lace trim, but the shorts are gone and her pussy is pressed against your chest. It feels warm and a little wet and you can’t help but wonder what she has in store for you.

“Good morning,” you reply.

“How did you sleep?” your wife asks nonchalantly, as if her bare pussy isn’t pressed against your chest the morning after she exerted an unexpected level of dominance in convincing you to rim her ass and denying you an orgasm afterwards.

“I slept well,” you say as you alternate between staring up at her and glancing at your chest to see her pussy lips and her clit, which has snuck out from the flesh hood that normally protects it.

Your wife smiles, lifts her pussy from your chest, and reaches down. She slips two fingers between her plump lips and they move inside her with ease, indicating that the wetness you felt pressing against you was very real.

“I did too,” she says with before a quiet moan escapes her lips. Your eyes remain fixed on the sight of her fingers, which are now slowly moving in and out of her pussy and generating a wet, slippery sound that you find intoxicatingly sexy. “I woke up thinking about you,” she continues. “I thought about how eager you were last night, how you used that talented tongue of yours to pleasure my asshole while I masturbated. I thought about how much fun it was to play with my pussy while you rimmed me and I got more than a little turned on.”

“I can see,” you reply.

She pulls her fingers from her pussy and they move towards your mouth. You part your lips instinctively – it was so much fun to do so last night that you can’t help yourself – and she places them on your tongue and says, “Suck for me.”

You suck as your wife desires. You taste her sweet juices. She moves her fingers in and out of your mouth as you look up and see what appears to be a mixture of deep satisfaction and potent arousal on her face. It seems perfectly clear that she’s getting off on fucking your mouth with her delicate fingers and you can’t help but feed off of her excitement and feel a healthy dose of it yourself.

She pulls her fingers from your mouth and slides her hips forwards. Her pussy is now inches from your face. You can feel the heat emanating from it. That desperation you felt last night returns. You want to taste her, to lick her, to make her cum with your tongue.

“Please let me lick your pussy,” you say.

Your wife smiles and slips two fingers between her pussy lips. She’s exceptionally wet. You hear it as she fucks herself slowly. She moans and you feel your cock throb with the same desire you felt the night before.

“Do you want me to sit on your face?” she asks.

“Yes, please,” you reply. The idea sounds utterly intoxicating.

She pulls her fingers from her pussy and rubs them over your lips. You try your best to take them in your mouth, but she keeps pulling away and denying you the pleasure of tasting her juices.

“You’re so eager,” she says appreciatively. “You just want me in your mouth, don’t you? You want me to fuck those pretty lips of yours with my fingers, don’t you?”

You nod as your wife continues to run her fingers over your lips, spreading her sweet juices and teasing you with the notion of getting to taste her. You’re not sure why you want it, but she’s right that you want her to fuck your mouth with her fingers. You want to experience the unique, beautiful feeling that envelops you as she’s penetrating your mouth.

“I want to cum,” your wife says before sitting up and looking over her shoulder. She leans back and her fingers find your cock. She strokes you a little and moans. “I could use your cock. I could sink my pussy onto it and take you for a ride.”

You moan and your hips push upwards as if your body is in full support of that particular idea.

“But you’re so eager that you might cum too quickly,” she says. “You have a habit of doing that when you get a little too excited or when it’s been too long since you’ve been inside me.”

She’s right about that. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

“I think I’d be a lot more likely to cum if I sat on your face,” she says. “Though, I suppose I could sit on your cock and if you happened to cum before I was finished I could just sit on your face and make you clean your load out of me.”

“No,” you say. The idea is revolting. “Please don’t do that. Please just sit on my face.”

She releases your cock, leans forward, and smiles. “I thought you’d say that. Most men have no interest in eating their cum. Why would they? It’s disgusting, isn’t it?”

You nod.

“You like it when a woman eats your cum though, don’t you?” she asks. You’re about to say something when she moves her hips forward and sits on your face. She smothers you with her pussy and you can’t utter a single word. All you can do is put your tongue to work. “I won’t make you clean your cum out of me. Not today, at least. Who knows, though? Maybe someday I’ll feed you a hot, sticky load of your cum from my pussy. Maybe someday you’ll be eager for it. Maybe you’ll be so eager to be a good boy for me that you’ll beg me to sit on your face after I’ve given you the pleasure of releasing your load inside me.”

Again you’re astonished that the woman in your bed is your wife. She’s never talked like that, and as far as you know she’s never even thought like that. Perhaps she’s been hiding her true self, though. Perhaps she’s always been like this and she simply chose not to share it with you.

Just like last night, you can’t help but feel a surprising kind of excitement at your wife’s sudden turn. You grab your cock and stroke as she rides your face, but she’s having none of that.

“No touching yourself,” she says. “Remember, I’m the one that gets to decide when you cum. I’m the one that makes you cum from now on, in fact.”

You release your cock and your wife reaches down, grabs a surprisingly tight handful of your hair, and truly rides your face. She moves her hips back and forth, rubbing her clit over your nose, lips, tongue, and chin. She’s aggressive about it in a way you find rather intoxicating and you’re fairly certain she’s going to cum, and cum quickly.

“Oh, fuck,” she says. Her eyes are closed. There’s a look of utter joy on her face. She’s riding your mouth with intensity and speed. Her thighs are trembling. Juices are dripping down your face as you lie there and act as her passive sex toy, providing pleasure by merely existing beneath her.

She cums without saying a word. Instead, she offers up a cavalcade of wondrous moans and groans while more of those sweet juices flow from her pussy. Her legs vibrate from the pleasure and her face contorts in the most wondrous ways.

When she’s done, your wife slides back onto your chest and runs her fingers through the slick layer of juice she left on your face. “What a mess I made,” she says before pushing those fingers in your mouth and slowly fucking your face. “We should really get cleaned up. Let’s take a shower and then you can make me breakfast.”

You have no objection to that plan. You follow your wife out of the bed and into the bathroom. You happily follow her into the shower and you’ll happily do just about anything she desires in there for you’re quite enraptured with the sudden change in her bedroom personality.

Three relatively quiet days have passed since your wife rode your face in bed. You’re in the kitchen doing the dishes – dishes that have remained in the sink for hours – when you hear the front door open. Your wife has returned from her run.

“Good run?” you ask as you hear the refrigerator open.

“Great run,” she replies.

You look over your shoulder and see your wife in a pair of skintight black leggings with semi-sheer cutouts over her thighs and calves. She’s paired the leggings with a simple sports bra that manages to look insanely sexy. You’ve never seen either piece of athletic wear on her and she looks amazing.

“What are you staring at?” she asks with a smile.

You turn the water off, spin around, and lean against the sink. “You,” you reply. “Is that outfit new?”

She nods.

“You don’t usually wear something so…well, so tight,” you say. “And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you run in just a sports bra.” You’re certain you haven’t, in fact. Your wife has always had a good body, but she’s never really been one to show it off in public.

“I decided to try something new,” she replies with a smile before taking another sip of the sports drink she retrieved from the fridge. “I felt good, too. Really good.”

“You look good,” you say. “Really good.”

She steps closer and you stare at her glistening chest before she says, “You’re not the only one that thinks so.”

Your eyes dart up to hers and you see a naughty smile on her face. “What do you mean?”

“Someone I met while on my run thought I looked good,” she says. “We were waiting to cross the street and he told me so. He said he loved my leggings, that they looked exceptionally hot.”

You stare at her leggings – they really are hot – and you notice that your heart is beating a little harder than usual. “Someone was flirting with you?”

Your wife smiles and nods as she takes another step closer. “He was. He was hot too. Tall. Good looking. In great shape.” She reaches up and runs her fingers over your arm. “He had great arms. Really muscular.”

“Did you…did you touch them?” you ask.

Your wife stares into your eyes and smiles. You’re suddenly quite worried that she did more than flirt with someone else on her walk. “No,” she says. “I just flirted back a little. I told him that he was really quite hot himself.”

Your heart pounds a little harder and you watch your wife run her fingers over her sweaty stomach before slipping a hand into her leggings. You see her fingers move towards her pussy and she moans, indicating that she found her clit and she’s happily indulging in self pleasure. You wonder if she’s masturbating because of the flirting or simply because she seems to be in a state of near constant arousal in the past few days.

She pulls her fingers from her leggings and lifts them to your lips. You lean forward and take them in your mouth. She doesn’t even have to utter the words. You suck on her fingers. You lick up her juices. You taste the saltiness of her sweat, too. With her free hand your wife reaches out and massages your cock through your shorts. She stares into your eyes and smiles as you get hard while her fingers move in and out of your mouth.

“I’m wet,” she says.

You feel jealous and a touch of panic. There’s no harm in flirting, but your wife has never been the kind of woman that does that. She’s never been the kind of woman to fuck your face with her fingers, to sit on your face, to make you eat her ass, or to wear skintight leggings and a sports bra, either. Perhaps she’s not the same woman anymore.

“I want to cum,” she says before pulling her fingers from your mouth. “I want you to help me with that.”

You open your mouth to answer but she steps closer and kisses you before a word can escape your lips. Her tongue slips into your mouth and in an instant that sense of panic disappears. She wouldn’t be kissing you like that if she was bored with you or if she intended on leaving you for someone else.

“Get on your knees,” she says softly.

You drop to your knees and your wife steps back. You stare between her legs and imagine licking her wet, sweaty pussy. Something about going down on her after a long run strikes you as exceptionally arousing, filling you with a deep sense of desire.

“Make I lick your pussy?” you ask.

She smiles. “No, you may not.” She turns around, looks over her shoulder, and says, “You may clean my sweaty ass with your eager tongue, though.”

You feel a surprising surge of arousal at her words. You’re not sure why, but in that moment the only thing you want is to lick her sweaty ass clean.

“Lower the leggings that gorgeous man enjoyed so much,” she says.

You tense up just a little at the mention of the man she flirted with, but it doesn’t dampen your desire as you reach up, slip your fingers into the tight waistband of her leggings, and pull them down. You expose her round, milky white, beautiful ass.

“Spread my cheeks,” she orders. “Press your face between them. Lick my sweaty ass clean.”

You reach up and spread your wife’s cheeks. You stare at her asshole and the flesh you’ve just exposed. You lean forward and press your face between her beautiful cheeks. You extend your tongue and lick her asshole. There’s an explosion of saltiness on your taste buds. There’s a slightly acrid taste that reminds you that you’re licking her asshole after she’s been on a long, sweaty run. For some reason, your cock throbs.

“That’s it,” she says. “Lick my tight, sweaty, dirty little asshole.” Her fingers find her pussy. You hear the wetness as she masturbates. Her arousal is significant. You hope it’s because you’re eating her ass and not because she’s thinking of the man she flirted with.

“He asked me for my number,” she says.

You lean back to ask if she gave it to him, but your wife reaches around, grabs your hair, and pulls you between her ass cheeks.

“I didn’t say you could stop cleaning my sweaty asshole,” she says with a harsh edge to her voice.

You resume licking her asshole and her crack. You lick up a considerable amount of salt as your heart pounds and your cock throbs. Your arousal confuses you a little, especially since it comes in tandem with your wife confessing that another man asked for her number.

“He wanted more than my number, though,” she says. “He wanted me. He wanted to have me. He wanted to take me back to his place, to strip off our sweaty clothes, and to have me. I’m certain of it.”

She moans and you can hear that her fingers are moving even faster over her pussy. She’s getting turned on thinking about what the guy on the run wanted. She must have done quite a bit of flirting if he asked for her number. Does that mean she wanted him? Does that mean she gave him her number? All of this runs through your mind as your cock continues to throb while you rim her ass and lick up every bit of sweat that her leggings didn’t absorb.

She trembles and stops moaning for a few moments. Her fingers still move rapidly over her pussy. Then she cums. Her exultations of pleasure fill your kitchen as you rim her sweaty ass while she climaxes. Your cock remains stiff in your shorts.

When she’s finished, your wife stands up, pulls up her leggings, and spins around. “Thank you,” she says. “That was a lovely orgasm. Now I need a shower.”

She turns to leave and you say, “Wait. Did you give him your number?”

She looks over her shoulder, smiles, and walks away without saying a word. You remain on your knees with a throbbing boner in your shorts and a mixture of anxiety and lust coursing through your body. Confusion reigns in your brain as you grapple with the notion that some part of you wants your wife to have given her number to a stranger she met on a run.

That can’t be how you really feel, right? What kind of man wants his wife to do that? Surely you’re not that kind of man, right?