Sweetness & Blight

Chapter One-2

From a pronounced widow’s peak her satiny black hair sweeps back to fall thick and perfectly straight to her exquisitely shaped ass. This accentuates the slenderness of her torso and limbs and as always Amelia’s incredible desirability fills me with pride of possession. That such an incomparable specimen agreed to marry me, particularly given our family’s history of animosity and respective financial situations flatters me beyond belief.

Her breasts aren’t large (she wears B-cup bras) but they are wonderfully unique. Small as they are they are exactly symmetrical and with hugely disproportionate n*****s. I’ve never seen anything like them. Not only are they half the size of the breasts themselves but there seems to be no distinction between the aureoles and tips: the entire things meld seamlessly together, standing wholly out from each little tit in big red bulbs an inch wide and high. Gazing worshipfully at those succulently jutting plums as Amelia moves grinningly to straddle me I find my mouth watering as always at the prospect of suckling such enormous love-nubs. Such delights will have to wait however. It is my increasingly domineering yet infallibly sweet wife that dictates every s****l act between us. I can only submit and endure and perform as ordered.

Amelia’s lithe little one hundred pounds straddles me just above my spent, elevated genitals. She lies down atop me. Considerably shorter than my six foot-two, this brings her face to my neck, where her lips nibble under the shelf of my jaw, sending shivers of arousal through me. She moves lower then, her mouth finally fastening insistently to me just above the clavicle. Here where the always buttoned-up collars of my shirt will conceal them she begins adding another series of angry red love-bites to those that already extensively decorate my lower neck.

This seems so high school in a way. I haven’t given a hickey since I was a teenager myself. Yet there is nothing innocent or exploratory in the way Amelia goes about this. Growling like a beast she battens on me with the devouring lust of a vampire, and sucks so hard it actually hurts. Still I find her attentions arousing as hell. Her hot breath on my throat, feral snarling and greedily insistent suction has me gasping and squirming with a perversely thrilling sense of victimization within a minute. Eventually she shifts her attack to a new area, and then another and another. Writhing atop me in an excess of predatory zeal she wallows in some fantasy I don’t dare to contemplate, panting heavily through her nose and growling continuously. It must be ten or fifteen minutes she voraciously ‘feeds’ off me this way: long enough for my erection to return. Soon the shaft is pressing insistently against the groove of her s*x, nudged constantly back and forth by her excited squirming. But at last it’s my time to feed.

Bright blue eyes glittering with intensity Amelia rises up and scoots forward. With her hot crotch now straddling my abdomen (leaving my c**k to throb on by itself) she knots her fists in my hair and thrusts her breasts in my face. At first she just rubs these roughly against me. Squashing those ripe little mounds and scraping me with the gigantic n*****s she pulls my hair painfully even as she crushes me against her in an inherently domineering fashion. Panting with a demanding lust, her innate s****l aggression wholly in control of her, she exalts and abuses me simultaneously. But at last she forces one of those extraordinary mounds into my mouth and hisses down at me.

“Suck me, Charles! Suck my tit!”

It is only in the grip of imperative lust like this that Amelia lapses a bit from her sweetly polite diction and issues actual orders rather than disguising them as gentle requests backed up by the threat of blackmail. In consequence I find this as secretly exciting as it is degrading. Of course, I need no added incentive to eagerly pleasure those gigantic n*****s. But her rare brusque demand, following upon her domineering hair-pulling, face-mashing assault on me fires me up wildly even as it further degrades me. I service her with a mad passion even as I conscientiously follow the precise procedure she’s drilled into me.

Just as her mouth did on the head of my c**k (these are actually remarkably similar in size, color and texture) my lips form a tight seal around that big stiff, perpetually erect bulb. Then I suck as hard as I can, taking the longest sustained pull I’m capable of. The second I relax her grip on me tightens, pulling my hair again in warning and I immediately redouble my efforts. Sucking for all I’m worth, as though trying to pull the proverbial golf ball through a garden hose (and the knob in my mouth is just that big), I savor the exciting stuffing of my face and wallow in the immediacy of the moment even as my cheeks begin to ache and tears spill from my eyes at the pain in my scalp. Amelia meanwhile moans with satisfaction, the firm flesh of the rest of her breast quivering against my face as she shudders involuntarily. Caught up in a fantasy of feeding me perhaps she begins rocking against me, forcing that rubbery protrusion rhythmically deeper into my mouth and gasping out her insatiable demands.

“Suck me! Suck me! Suck me harder!”

Somehow I comply despite the ever-growing ache in my jaws. Her rocking accelerates, crushing me into the pillow even as her controlling grip on my hair holds firm. It’s like she’s f*****g my face with her tit, and my cheeks burn with mortification at the thought. But at last I get a brief respite. Still holding my head captive she wrenches her n****e away from me, and the pop as that powerful suction is broken is shockingly loud. Once again she roughly rubs that big wet bulb all over my face, grinding it almost brutally against me. Then she forces the other one upon me, wordlessly demanding equally fervent service. Soon she’s rocking again, gasping and grunting in that weird simulation of copulation. Deeply humiliated and yet more and more turned on I submit to this, urgently suckling those huge, rhythmically intruding protrusions one after another, back and forth while her hair curtains us both and my c**k strains idiotically into empty space. Increasingly exhausted and out of breath I gasp desperately myself during each interlude in which those stiff wet knobs of erogenous flesh are crushed and rubbed, smeared and ground against me. And still this is but the beginning of a foreplay that almost always lasts for an hour or more. The serious servicing still lies ahead.

Indeed: at last Amelia has had her fill of this comparatively tame sport, this beginner’s tease and initiate’s titillation. It’s now time for the truly trying and deliberately degrading use of her poor husband’s overworked orifice. After one final particularly dominating, in-your-face humiliation of n****e-rubbing she releases my head and sits back up on my belly.

Her eyes gleam derisively at me panting red-faced beneath her and she reaches behind herself to fondle my rail-spike erection. She grins with an omniscient slyness, no doubt remembering how abjectly I used to beg to be allowed on top of her.

“Was that good for you, my love? Did my honey get off on sucking me? Mister Naughty says you did no question!”

This is Amelia’s pet name for my hard-on. When it’s limp she calls it Mister Nice. With the obvious evidence in hand there is no point in protesting. I lick my sore lips and tell her what she wants to hear.

“Yes I did. s*x with you never goes how I’d exactly choose. But there’s no one in the world I’d rather make love to.”

“I’m delighted to hear that. You flatter me with the truth, my darling. Well, you know what I want from you now, Mister Charles Adam Everett the third. I gave you head earlier. Now it’s time you returned the favor, wouldn’t you say?”

I’d almost say we were equal in that department already. But the implications of that thought are too shameful to entertain. And protesting never does any good anyway. If I ever want to feel her v****a encasing my c**k I have no choice but to perform as directed – even though the challenge ahead is daunting in the extreme with no real recompense of pleasure for me. In any event I nod and remain meekly submissive as smugly smiling Amelia moves forward again, this time to straddle my face.

Her slender silken thighs bracket my cheeks. Her hands fist tight in my hair again and her perfect little p***y settles on my mouth. Her voice is sweetly lilting as always yet as always brooks no demurral.

“Eat me, Charles. Make me come in your mouth. You know how I can’t get enough of that. And you are just soooo good at sucking me off – for a clueless male.”

Well before I married her I heard rumors that Amelia was bisexual. And she seems to enjoy dropping these little hints. I’ve even come to suspect she’s still indulging these needs, that she’s already cuckolding me with her admittedly extremely hot girlfriends.

Unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about this. Marrying Amelia has saved me financially. Beyond my helpless attraction to her, my madly devoted love and perverse addiction to her unbridled s****l aggression, divorce isn’t an option for me. And truth be told, despite a certain amount of natural jealousy the thought of what she might be up to behind my back excites me a bit. At least it isn’t with another man. And what guy hasn’t fantasized about someday convincing his wife to get one or more of her girlfriends to join them in bed? In addition to all my other reasons for keeping Amelia happy and satisfied is the possibility of eventually maybe fulfilling that classic fantasy. So I fling myself into the task at hand with all the ardor and skill at my command.

Here as well Amelia has trained me in what she likes. So after some prefatory tonguing I expose her little c******s and begin sucking on it with the same powerful and sustained pulling I used on her enormous n*****s. Right away she gasps and moans and lets me get on with it for a while. But eventually her madly aggressive sexuality takes over and my ordeal gets underway.

Here again I prefer to be on top when providing c*********s. And once in a while Amelia will actually allow this, after a fashion. She won’t lie back on the bed before me and let me pleasure her as I choose, of course. But while sitting somewhere – on the couch watching TV or even at the breakfast table – she’s been known to suddenly and unexpectedly flip open her robe, spread her slim legs wide and teasingly ask me if I’d like to go down on her.

No matter what my mood at the time, or the certainty that the favor won’t be returned, refusal is out of the question. Even in her gently polite manner Amelia has ways of making me sorry. And she does always reward me afterward by being especially affectionate. Clearly it tickles her to see me humbly kneeling before her, just a supplicant at the altar, compelled to slavishly service her in that most intimate and submissive way. Despite my best efforts at these times though it seems she can only truly get off by towering above my helplessly straddled face, holding it captive beneath her while she brutishly uses me. Thus it is that I again soon suffer her rocking atop me, yanking on my hair and grinding her body roughly against me in a way that seems more than just a little contemptuous.

At this point my only obligation is to thrust my tongue as deep inside her as possible and hold it there while she humps and pumps against it, riding my face with a callous abandon. Eventually she will demand sucking again and again I will slavishly supply it. But for the time being I can only fight for breath, feel my face blush furiously with the mortification I feel and let her use me as thoughtlessly as she always does. All the while her juices trickle into my mouth and down my cheeks, her pubic saddle chafes me unmercifully and once again she pants and moans and grunts in an animalistic transport.