Almost VanillaAlmost Vanilla


Ten minutes from now I will find the thought of his cum on my face quite disgusting. I’ll have a warm washcloth wiping away every drip of evidence before I get back in bed to his devilish smirk. But while his tongue examines the every fold of my inner thigh I can only imagine that eventual release of his warm flowing cum onto my flushed face.

It wasn’t always like this.

We were a pretty vanilla couple when it came to our excursions in the bedroom. We married young so we didn’t have a ton of variety before we connected and we were quite content simply fucking each other’s brains out the first few years. I’d start to suck his dick but he’d have me bent over the cushion before I could work up a good rhythm. He’d try to lick my clit until I came, but I’d flip him over and grind his dick to a nub because I couldn’t wait.

I guess we just wanted to fuck.

With the best of intentions we’d try to bring creativity to our sex life, but we’d never follow through. For our third anniversary we researched a hundred rope techniques to tie me to our bed. We probably watched a dozen videos on what rope to buy and where to place the knots. But as soon as he pulled my wrist over my head to secure it to our bedpost, I caught his dick in my mouth. Eight teasing slurps later he completely forgot about the ropes and we fucked like our lives depended on it. I think we ended up using the rope in the garden somewhere.

One Valentines Day I planned a magical evening of dinner, dancing and my anal virginity – though we’d never really discussed it being on or off the table. A good ass-fuck seemed to be pretty routine for most couples, so we thought. But as he brought me in for an innocent kiss on our way to the garage his hand noticed that my amazing dress was not covering any equally amazing underwear. I noticed his pause, immediately soaked myself and made him fuck me to two climaxes against our freshly washed sedan. Then we merrily dined and danced til 2AM and passed out on our couch fully dressed after we got home. Virginity saved.

Of course we eventually squeezed his dick into my ass and it was, honestly, more enjoyable than I thought it would be. But we never have the patience to follow through. Every bursa escort blue moon we’d talk about it and get so wound up that we’d just fuck the old fashioned way instead.

Then there are the countless videos of us not having sex because he’d bathe me in warm kisses while I’d try to set up the camera in the most romantic and flattering light. Normally I’m an excellent photographer, but every one of those videos were ruined. I left the lens cap on or I forget to press record or I didn’t check the angle. Hearing us fuck for twenty minutes with a live action shot of the ceiling will not win us any amateur porn competitions.

But in time we slowed down in the bedroom. We discovered that a full-body massage could actually reach the full body before we fucked each other like rabbits. We could quietly fondle each other in the movie theater and stay until the movie was over. We could 69 to climax. We could do other things!


But every moment we’d spend doing something other than having his hard dick balls-deep in my dripping-wet pussy was a chore. I could cum five times on Tuesday night from his tongue on my clit, but I’d still be tense on Wednesday because I’d be thinking about that dicking he owed me. Buyer’s remorse b

He was the same. One air-conditionless, romantic stay in Paris had me swallowing him twice in one night because it was too hot to think about grinding our bodies together. But the next day he was so short tempered and demonicly horny that we checked into another hotel that afternoon. We fucked for six air-conditioned minutes and my sweet angel returned.

We were lucky to have found each other. It was simple. No fantasies. Just fucking.

Until one day he missed.

One rainy Sunday afternoon we were binge watching Doctor Who when we got distracted by our hands. Okay, it was during the second episode that we started our own episode but that’s not the point.

As per our ritual I came rather quickly because that morning’s run was foreplay enough for me. However he had more than a few strokes left in him. Admittedly my mind wandered.

Lunch was delicious.

What should we make for dinner?

Did we just have Indian?

I couldn’t get bursa escort bayan that curry stain out of my skirt, could I?

What if we stain the couch and my mom notices next month?

Will his cum stain our couch?

If he cums on my stomach will it be easier to contain?

“Cum on me, please,” I whispered in his ear for the first time ever. “Cum on me, baby.”

As expected three strokes later he was ready to erupt. I wasn’t certain he heard me until he pulled his dick out and aimed it in my general direction.

Not exactly what I was going for.

I guess he hadn’t read my thoughts about keeping the couch stain free. We’d never done this before so he was definitely freestyling this move.

In the half-second I had to react I turned my face away and closed my eyes. Safety first. A load to the tonsils I could control. But this was going to get messy.

There was no anticipation for this moment, just a reaction I didn’t expect.

The first shot hit me on my left cheek and neck. It was warm and soft. It was like a pound of warm fudge fresh from the oven. My first instinct was to touch it with my finger and lick it. But as I started to move my hand and open my eyes I felt the second shot hit my left nipple.

I had completely forgotten that he was kneeling in front of me and could only feel those two pools of cum settling on my skin. In my head they were like warm marshmellows against my hot cocoa. I just wanted them to soak into me like lotion. My eyes never opened and my hands stayed to my side. I just laid still and soaked in his sun.

“Like that?” he asked as I lay motionless for two minutes.

“Mmmmm-hmmm,” I replied as I found myself finding my clit with my index finger. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet, but I knew what I was looking for.

I could feel his cum on my face and his eyes on my pussy as I brought myself to a second climax on the couch. He knew that I’d already cum once so I can only imagine the confusion or joy on his face as he watched his cum drenched wife satisfy herself a second time with such intensity.

But I didn’t really notice or care that he was there. His cum on my face was all that I needed. It was like a foot massage, escort bursa back rub and a soft kiss in 3 ounces of dripping ooze.

I’m not sure why the reaction was so intense. I’d had cum on my face from a messy blowjob every now and again. But those were mere drops. An accidental mess. This was like a calculated placement of his sexual essence planted on my cheek like a warm kiss.

A warm kiss that made me steal another orgasm from between my thighs.

I began to relax as I could feel his favorite cotton T-shirt wiping his juice from my face and chest. He pressed smoothly as I wondered whether he was attempting to wipe off his cum like mud or wipe in his cum like lotion.

When I finally opened my eyes I could see that he was enthusiastically curious. His smirk was ear-to-ear.

“I don’t know,” I answered his unasked question.

I still don’t know what happened.

But that night when he asked again I shuddered at the thought of it. It was gross. It was disgusting. It was animal.

“It doesn’t do much for me,” he laughed.

“Good,” I responded with no reservations. “Let’s keep that mess contained, please.”

And we did.

For the next two months we were back to normal. Happy as could be.

But I was lying.

Every time we kissed I would imagine how his cum felt on my face. Every time he came I wanted to ask him to cum on me. Every time.

I still came during sex, but that was technical. Our bodies simply fit together well.

This was different. This was mental. This made my pussy ache even after he’d just fucked me perfectly. Was it the act? Was it his cum? Was it because I thought it was disgusting? I don’t think having his dick in my ass is disgusting, so maybe that’s why I don’t love having his dick in my ass.

I love having his cum on my face.

So I wrote him a note and placed it in his wallet one morning.

“Though I find the thought of your cum on my face absolutely yucky, I would like it immensely if you would cum on my face at least once per week because I can’t think of anything else. I’m not asking because I think you’ll be turned on by the request. I’m asking because I honestly can’t think of anything else.

Just be sure to wipe it off before I recover from my orgasm. Like I said, it’s yucky.”

So we’re still pretty vanilla. But every now and again he’ll kneel next to me and cum on my face.

Disgusting pervert.

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