by Melissa Barnard
(01/21/04)
I guess we all have those moments. Most of the time we go through the motions of our lives without too much thinking. Maybe sometimes we look ahead a little bit, and consider where we are going, or look backwards at the last few days. But every once in a while you have a moment when you find yourself thinking: "Just how did I get here? How exactly did I end up in this position?" It could be a major event, like a wedding or a milestone, or it could just be while you're walking through the supermarket. I call them my existential moments.
I had one of those moments last Saturday morning. I was lying on my bed, on top of the covers, on my back. I was wearing my long blue nightgown, but it wasn't covering much of me. Instead, it was rolled up into a small tube, strategically placed between the bottom of my neck and the top of my breasts. Other than the rolled-up nightgown, which basically covered nothing at this point, I was naked. The effect of the nightgown tucked under my neck and underarms left me feeling exposed -- more exposed than if I were completely nude. It gave the effect that someone had rolled up the nightgown for me, precisely in order to expose me.
My arms were back over my head, each one lying flat on either side of my head. This position -- kind of like someone who had just been told by a policeman to "Put your hands up!" -- only enhanced the look of naked helplessness.
I suppose what really made me look, and feel, helpless, is that my arms were in that position because they were being held down that way. The hands that were clasped tightly around my wrists belonged to a man who was crouched over me at that moment. That man, the same person who had rolled my nightgown up to my neck, was not wearing any clothing at all. Oh yes, and his penis was strategically inserted in my mouth.
The man was hardly a stranger to me. In fact, he was my husband and the father of my four children, all of whom were sleeping soundly at that moment somewhere on the other side of the locked door to our bedroom. Nevertheless, as I lay there naked and pinned to the bed, his penis slowly moving in and out of my mouth, I somehow found myself detaching from the physical moment, and wondering where I was.
Not that this situation had come about without my involvement, mind you. I'm not the biggest fan of giving oral sex, and I had certainly had not invited him to jam his penis between my lips. On the other hand, I had begun the morning that day by asking him if he had noticed the bikini wax I had received yesterday. That is a leading question by any measure, but especially so in the case of my nearsighted husband. Having just woken up, and not yet wearing his glasses, the only way he could "check out" my pubic styling would be to gaze at my pussy (how he would love to hear me use that word with him!) from a few inches away. And once his face was that close to my genitals, we both knew that he couldn't keep his tongue off of them.
That was how it started. He commented on how much he liked the way my freshly-waxed bikini area looked, and then started licking the sides of my mound, as if to make sure that the area was as smooth as it should be after a waxing. His initial "clinical" licks quickly moved lower to the hood of my clitoris, and from there to my labia. At this point it was clear that he no longer remembered my bikini wax (his attention span is pretty short anyway), and was entirely focused on my response to his oral attention. As usual, he focused mostly on my clit and hood, with occasional forays to my lips and below. His tongue stopped just short of my anus, but his fingers were actively probing that area. I wouldn't dare admit to him that I enjoyed that, but he knows that I do. Eventually, his tongue pressed only against my clit while I held his head in place, until I threw him off me while twisting in ecstasy.
All that would have been pleasant enough, but it didn't lead me to any state of contemplation. Only after he had finished me off, pinned me down, and started fucking my mouth (yes, he'd love to hear me say that also), did I find myself wondering about all things past, present and future. It was, to say the least, an unusual position. Not the most comfortable, either. I guess it was the combination of being in an unpleasant position, and not really minding it, that sent my mind wandering.
His penis continued to go in and out, in and out, and I began to think about meeting him 15 years ago -- going to bed with him way too soon -- and eventually falling in love with him. From there, it seems everything had moved quickly. Engagement, marriage, children, a home, more children and, finally, being pinned down naked to the bed with his penis in my mouth that Saturday morning.
I suppose my mind could have continued to wander, but I was brought back to consciousness when I began to sense an acceleration in his breathing rate. That could mean only one thing. Giving oral sex is something I find tolerable, at best, but ejaculate in my mouth is something I can do without. My husband often reminds me of the time I gave him a blowjob while lying on our new sofa and let him come in my mouth; he said it was the ultimate proof of how much I wanted to avoid staining the sofa. Now, as his breath continued to speed up, and his hands only tightened around my wrists, it was clear that I would soon have a mouthful of come. My focus shifted to the penis just below my nose, and I braced myself for an onslaught. It came, so to speak, quickly, and soon filled my mouth with gooey warmth.
Not surprisingly, my husband lost his focus at that moment, and his grip on my wrists loosened. I quickly threw him to the side, and ran to the bathroom. (I may be willing to bear his children, but I wouldn't even consider swallowing his semen.) I came back to find him lying quietly on the bed, grinning impishly. I looked at his skinny naked body, and I felt content.
