Hot Monogamy Read online

  Hot Monogamy

  Passionate Marriage Series

  By: Lucy St. Vincent

  Copyright © 2013 by Lucy St.Vincent

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  I’m married and I love sex: with my husband. Most of the surveys I read say that once couples tie the knot, the romance is over and sex is indulged in, at best, once or twice a month. I’m not exactly sure what makes us different, but Paul and I have been going at it the better part of thirty years and it just keeps getting better.

  The first time Paul “bedded me” I was just a mere lass of nineteen and aside from the initial furtive groping which was slightly exciting albeit uncomfortable, the rest of it was a nightmare. When he plunged into me, I nearly died I was so disappointed.

  Even so, I really thought Paul was a great catch. He was incredibly handsome, a hard worker and someone who seemed like a real keeper in spite of his inadequacies in the sex department. I also realized, given what many of my girlfriends told me, that most guys of that age tended to be about the same: loose cannons who had no idea how to please their gals.

  So I decided at an early age to get proactive about the whole thing. I sure wasn’t about to marry this man if I wasn’t going to enjoy sex with him. Back then, that’s kind of what it was all about: you got married so you could have sex whenever and wherever you wanted to instead of in the back seat of your brother’s car or on your parents’ bed when they were at church. Marriage was supposed take away all those inconveniences rendering it much more comfortable and guilt-free.

  So when Paul asked me to marry him shortly after we both started college, I said, “Listen, we’ve got to get something straight here. I am not going to marry you until you can figure out how to pleasure me in at least one hundred different ways.” And I meant it.

  He had to find one hundred original ways to make me wet with wanting, and I kept a tally in a tattered old notebook. It took him the better part of the year to figure out those hundred ways, but he was a motivated student, let me tell you. I also made it clear that I had no intention of staying in the marriage if he wasn’t going to keep me satisfied. At that time, that was pretty liberal thinking. I didn’t care, though. I’ve always known that I was put on this earth to be happy and as far as I can see, sex is one of the biggest contributors to happiness. So there you go.

  Paul and I are both retired now (we’re not spring chickens anymore, but we’re not old, either: we invested well), and our kids are out of the house. Paul was an accountant, and accountants don’t have a reputation as being passionate people, but let me tell you, he saved his creativity for the bedroom. I was a schoolteacher and if those kids knew what went on between closed doors and sometimes open ones, they’d never think of me in the same way again.

  One of the biggest secrets to our ongoing success is that we are still turned on by each other. We make an effort to stay fit and limber. I go to yoga three times a week and Paul is a jogger and tennis player. It’s after exercise that we often get especially hot. Yesterday Paul got home from his daily three-mile jog, smelling up the house with his pheromones and sweat. Just a whiff of that man can send me over the top.

  “Paul,” I said, “why don’t you hop in the shower? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  We have a lot of sex books and guides and dirty magazines so we are always getting new ideas about how to turn each other on. We’ve gone way beyond Paul’s initial one hundred.

  “Okay, Honey,” he said, and I could see his dick perk up in interest even from a distance.

  I’ve always liked water as a natural lubricant. A couple of years ago we had a big jacuzzi installed in our backyard so we could jazz things up with the water and the jets, and it sure has come in handy. It’s been our most expensive sex toy to date, but certainly worth the money. That’s another story.

  While Paul was getting into the shower and lathering himself up, I went to the kitchen and got the green grapes out of the crisper. Then I lubed up a bit with my vibrator, playing with myself just long enough to get wet and turned on.

  Sometimes I like to prepare ahead of time, giving myself my own foreplay before having a quickie with Paul. Sometimes guys want to skip the formalities and get straight to the point so to speak, and I certainly don’t mind turning my own self on once in a while. After I felt the heat and my juices sluicing inside of me, and as my nipples elongated and my skin became red, I knew it was time for the next step.

  I took the grapes and inserted them up my vagina. It felt good sliding the cold ovals up there, one after the next. I lingered with the first one for a moment, teasing my clitoris first, and then caching it inside. All toll, I popped four green grapes up my pussy; by the last one I was so turned on, I was ready to finger myself to an orgasm right there. I knew, however, that it was going to be a lot more exciting letting Paul suck them out of me.

  I joined him in the shower, my body ripe and ready. His penis was at a right angle to his body, and I could tell he had been getting himself ready for me.

  “I’ve been waiting for so long, Babe. What took you?”

  “Oh, I had to put a few things away,” I said casually. The water was hot and the glass door was steamy. It felt wonderful. I started with his hair. I lathered shampoo and slowly and sensually began to massage his scalp with my fingernails. He loved that. I was holding off, trying to calm myself down from my intense foreplay. It was his turn first. Mine would come later. My ass cheeks were pulsating in and out with desire, but restraint made it so much sweeter.

  I pressed my tummy and breasts against his back so his ass was right at my crotch level and I began to scrub his chest with the soap, grabbing his nipples as I did so. He was excited: they stood out like little push pins on his chest. I massaged his chest for a long time and slowly worked my way down to his tummy and then to his penis. All the while I was pressing my body against his back, growing more and more excited as my hands came closer to his dick.

  I could feel the grapes inside of me, gently suspended in my fluid. I clenched and unclenched my buttocks and ground my groin into his ass. I wanted his mouth on my pussy in the worst way.

  When I got to his penis, its rock hardness surprised me as it always does. Even his testicles get hard, like golf balls. I gently stroked and washed them with the soap, then began tugging a little more boisterously. I took the showerhead off the nozzle and sprayed all the soap off his dick, using the strongest setting. It really turns him on when I do that, especially when I aim it at his perineum, that area just between the root of the penis and the anus. There is a powerhouse of nerves down there. I love it when he does that to me, too. (Or I do it to myself.)

  When his cock was clean and glistening, I took the bath pillow and knelt and centered my mouth at his crotch level. Then I began to suck while the hot water poured down over me, sensually beating my back and dripping down over my breasts. Paul was bending forward and grabbing my breasts, tugging at my nipples and then scratching
my back with his nails. He did it hard and furiously and it felt divine. I love to have my back scratched during sex. It’s a real turn on for me. I like a little roughness: a bit of pain.

  I continued to suck his cock while fingering his balls, rolling them back and forth like Chinese medicine balls: slowly and gently. When I sensed he was getting close to coming, I let go of his cock and took turns slipping his testicles in my mouth and sucking them. By this time, Paul had both hands outstretched on either end of the shower stall to keep his balance, his head was swung back, and his eyes were closed. I knew he was exquisitely close.

  I could hardly wait for my turn to come. Luckily, I knew how to speed things up and provide incredible pleasure at the same time. I took my fist and put it between his shaft and his anus, pressing hard on the pressure point. Then I plunged his cock into my mouth and began sucking hard, long sucks that reached to his root and then climbed back up and lingered on the head of his penis. He was nearly there. I felt a rush suddenly throb through his penis: then came the loud gasp and the spurt of warm, sensuous liquid flood my mouth. Now I wanted to come. I needed to come. I was hot and wet and incredibly turned on.

  Paul barely needed recovery time: he followed the same pattern as I had, starting with my hair. He very gently began to lather my scalp in circular sensuous strokes. He took his time, and in spite of how good it felt, I wanted him to make his way downward just a little quicker. I was bucking like a horse. I had waited too long already. I wanted satisfaction now

  “Slow down, Baby,” he said. “There’s plenty of time. Just relax and enjoy.”

  He was right. I knew he wasn’t going to give me a quickie. Not today. I surrendered to his strong hands that had now worked their way down to my neck and shoulders where he was kneading and massaging with a firm grip. It felt so good. Fortunately we had installed a massive hot water tank and the scalding water continued to pound down on us, the room completely steamed up and smelling of eucalyptus. My shoulders refused to loosen despite Paul’s labile, experienced fingers because the sexual tension was filling my body, straining all my muscle fibers.

  He worked his way to my front and began to gently tickle my clavicle and the tiny indentation where my diamond pendant rested. He bent his head and gently began kissing my little cave. Then he began kissing my neck and my shoulders. My breasts were pressed up against his hairy chest and it felt so good. Then he abruptly stopped and stepped back.

  “I have to look at you,” he said. He stood staring at my dripping body, still firm and supple after fifty-odd years of living. “God, you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. What are you doing in my shower?”

  He pulled me to him and began kissing me wetly with his tongue, probing along my gums and deep into the recesses of my mouth. The water filled our mouths as we kissed and his hands made their way to my breasts. He grabbed the bar of soap and while still kissing me, he began to roam around my nipples with the abrasive soap, around and around, soft and slippery and exciting. I pressed my flat stomach against his hairy one and remembered the grapes.

  “Oh,” I moaned. “Oh, keep going. My pussy is waiting for you.”

  I braced both of my arms against the wall as Paul maneuvered the soap slowly down my gyrating stomach. He stopped to lick and finger my belly button and then found his way to my pelvis.

  “I want you to eat me, Paul,” I said. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Go deep.”

  Paul looked up at me from his kneeling position and smiled curiously. With careful and slow movement, the light snatch of hair sheathing my privates like some kind of veil on an exotic dancer, he flicked his tongue in and out like a flashlight going on and off for a few seconds while I continued to groan and my legs muscles became very tight and focused. Then he went deeper, his tongue probing my inner depths, hunting, searching for the hidden treasures. I could feel the grapes’ coolness and the slight heaviness in my insides. It was exciting.

  Paul took two of his fingers, inserted them in the moist hole and began to circle around. The grapes were moving and I felt the two fingers grasp one and pull gently. He looked up at me quizzically and pulled the grape so it was just at my pussy opening. He went in for the kill with his mouth, sucking it through the opening. My whole core shuddered. My feet were rooted to the ground. I was oblivious to the water. I only knew the intense pleasure that was surrounding me from every direction. The grape was in his mouth.

  He stood up and pushed my shoulders downward so I was forced to kneel under the streaming water. He pushed me backward so I was leaning against the sloping tub edge and he kissed me passionately, slipping the fragrant pussied grape from his mouth into mine.

  “I’m going down for more,” he announced. He knew I would not have settled for just one. As I reclined against the tub, my legs bent, he buried his face in my bush. I was gripping the tub with both hands and opening my legs as wide as the tub allowed. Their aching was exquisite.

  He began to suck, and then blow, suck and then blow, both with amazing intensity. It was a cool wind, tickling my most sensitive parts. Then he pointed his tongue and darted it in firmly, looking for grapes. He maneuvered it as far forward as he could get and then sucked hard. A grape blew out of my vagina with amazing velocity. By this time, the water was finally growing tepid and we were shriveled.

  “Let’s get out of here, Baby, and I’ll finish you up in bed,” Paul said. We climbed out of the tub; I was panting with pleasure and anticipation.

  “Slow down, make it last,” Paul said as he began to sensually dry me off with a large towel. He lingered on my breasts and my ass and between my legs, rubbing hard in each of those places.

  “Spread your legs for me,” he said, taking either end of the rough towel, sweeping it back and forth between my legs, causing friction on my thighs and labia. In contrast to the sleek wetness of the shower and his hands, it was startling. He shoved the towel a bit deeper inside of me, making sawing motions with it. I felt like a tree ready to be felled.

  Next there followed a thorough and loving pat down with a much softer, downy towel that had been sitting on the heated towel rack. I was beginning to relax, feeling almost ready for sleep. The heat light pounded down on me as Paul sensually completed toweling me off. I sleepily gave him my hand and Paul escorted me to the bed, suddenly pushing me down hard.

  We weren’t done yet. I liked a little rough play, especially when I wasn’t expecting it. Paul has learned to always keep the surprises coming.

  “I’m tying you up,” he announced, “and then I’m going to fuck you until you cry for mercy.”

  From my torpor just a moment ago, I had gone back to being hotter than sizzling bacon.

  Bring it on, Big Boy, I thought. Keep on surprising me and I’m yours for life.

  He took some panty hose from my underwear drawer and tied my arms up to the bedposts. (Of course, we have a four poster bed. What sexually committed couple doesn’t?) He pulled me forward by my torso so my arms were completely tight and I couldn’t move. Then he pulled one leg to the side of the bed, tying it to a bedpost and then repeated with the other leg. I was laying spread eagled on the bed, writhing and excited beyond belief.

  “You don’t think I’m going to let you watch this, do you?” he asked. “Every move I make is going to be a surprise.”

  He grabbed a scarf from the bed stand and tied it behind my head, completely covering my eyes. I was becoming more and more excited. I could hardly bear it.

  Then he said, “I don’t want to hear a word from you,” gagging me with one of his silk ties.

  He began slowly. Paul was never predictable when he did this; I loved not knowing what he was going to do next. He was making himself excited too; I felt the hardness of his penis brush my breasts furtively. He circled my nipples with his penis and then I felt a hot wet substance flowing over my breasts. It was the brandy he kept at his bedside table for occasions such as these. He began to lick my nipples and suck on them hard: sucking and licking and biting too.
r />   “Don’t move,” he commanded as he saw my body begin to rise and gyrate. “Don’t move an inch.”

  I lay submissively still. He went back to my breasts. He was doing something with a scarf or a cloth, lightly brushing it back and forth across my exploding nipples.

  Suddenly he was at my feet, pouring brandy on them and sucking my toes as if they were the most divine of delicacies. He held one foot in the palm of his hand and while sucking my toes he began to slowly fist the sole of my foot, just like I had done to his perineum in the shower. His knuckles digging into the arches of my feet while his mouth and fingers played with my toes was almost as explosive as a hard fuck for me. I could hardly keep myself from erupting.

  When he had finished with my feet, I had already succeeded in several small orgasms and didn’t know how much more I could take. But then Paul brought out the feather, or at least that’s what I assumed it was. My blindfold made me exquisitely aware of all the sensations happening in my body. The feather was making its way slowly up my legs, alternating sides, stopping at the backs of my knees before tickling its way all the way up to my pussy’s mouth. It was so sensuous, so exquisite to feel the soft sensation that was driving me to heaven’s gate, but more than anything, my clit was crying, “Come here, mouth: come here.” The feather had served its purpose and now I wanted lubrication and pressure. I wanted the hard stuff.

  “Don’t move,” he commanded again and I reluctantly let the muscles in my ass relax. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand it. There were still two more grapes ensconced in my warmth and they were crying out for rescue.

  And still he wouldn’t go there. He got up from the bed and I heard him walk across the room and retrieve something from the bathroom. I heard the water running. My muscles were pulled tight. I was immobile. What was he going to do? I felt his heavy breathing and I knew he was growing excited again, watching me helpless on the bed. There was a long silence and he moved away again. My insides were shaking with anticipation.

  I suddenly felt cold steel on my inner thigh. It was a razor. I keep myself waxed and trimmed so I knew this was more for the sensation than for any clean-up job. He let me feel the razor rest on my thigh for a moment, but did nothing with it. Then it was gone.