Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 05

Jon is bellowing one loud, long and deep cry of pure hedonistic delight, rejoicing that his previous climax in the theatre has taken the edge off his physical response and allowed him to go longer than he might have otherwise but has done nothing to diminish the ardor and passionate desire he has for his wife. That he can express his delight in her in such a visceral and substantial carnal way is gratifying at a deeply instinctual level.

Orgasm crashes into gut-wrenching orgasm for Sue and she feels swept up and away in a torrent of emotions and sensations, swimming in a sea of pounding, throbbing waves. Her anchor, her rock though is her man, her lover, her husband and she clings to him as the only steady and sure thing in a world of light and sound and spectacle.

Eventually, they both come down from the explosive pleasure and find themselves cramping, contorted, sweaty and hoarse from their animalistic vocalizations. Their conjoined genitals are still throbbing and shuddering in electric aftershocks. Sue is the first to break out into laughter, although it is unclear whether she is overcome with pure joy in emotional release or awestruck at the ludicrous positions in which they find themselves. Whatever its source, it spreads quickly and Jon finds himself laughing right with her as they try unsuccessfully to extricate themselves from the tangle of arms, legs and twisted torsos. To do so while with electric aftershocks firing off in their raw nerve endings only adds to the ridiculousness.

"Oh, my fucking gosh, Jon!" Sue gasps between gales of laughter. "What the hell was that?"

"Only the best, fucking, back-seat sex ever!" he laughs back, staring deeply into her eyes.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to get off me," Sue asks. "I think my neck is about to break."

If getting into position was clumsy and ungainly, getting untangled and sitting up in the backseat is even more so. More giggles, blushes, bumps and apologies ensue as they somehow manage to disentangle themselves and end upright in their seats.

The tight confines reek of cunt juice and sperm and sweat. Jon's still semi-erect cock flops about as Sue's completely naked body jiggles and glistens in the pink-tinted parking lot lights.

"Shit, you look like such a tramp. Like you've really been well-fucked."

Sue knows that she should be offended by that but she isn't. Without making the slightest attempt to cover up, she responds to him. "And you like that, don't you?"

"Sure do. Man, you're hot!"

"See what happens when you take control and take what you want."

"See what happens when you let the man of the house take over?"

She blushes at his frank assessment, but revels in the sheer debauchery of the moment.

He gathers her into his arms. "Sit here in my lap; I want to suck on your breasts like I promised."

"After all that? I might just be too sensitive for that right now..."

"I don't care. You teased me with them back in the theatre. I like sucking on them and you said I have rights to them whenever I want." He smiles at her. "I want."

She blushes under the truth of what he is asking of her. This is what she asked him to do - take advantage of her.

And if she is honest with herself, she is flattered and a little intrigued that he is taking charge like this.

"You have made such a gracious offer, the least I can do is accept it and take advantage of it," he grins.

And then continues, "I know this is new to us and our relationship. And I'm grateful that you're trying to get us to a better place. I know it is not easy for you but I think it is working and I do truly appreciate it."

She is touched that he recognizes and is willing to acknowledge her efforts; that he has accepted her offer and values the gift she has made. Her hope that their marriage can be saved is strengthened.

She climbs onto his lap, letting her naked bum rest across his thighs and the leaking cum flowing from her bruised and ravished quim, leak out onto his leg. She turns toward him and draws her shoulders back, offering her naked breasts to him.

He gently, almost reverently caresses the underside of her breasts. She watches him, watches the joy and wonder in his eyes, the delight in her shape, in her beauty. For too long, she has equated male appreciation of her physical form to be crude, chauvinistic and something to be avoided. Right here, right now, with his intense scrutiny of her womanly charms, it is suddenly touching, and intimate and beautiful again. This is part of her, too. Sure she wants him to admire and respect her independence and her intellect and her emotional bond with him. But she also gives him this - her body - which obviously holds such delight to him. This she can give him because she wants him to enjoy it, not because it is her duty to endure.

"You really like my tits, don't you?" she asks softly, her tender tone juxtaposed against her crude language.

"They are so lovely," he breathes adoringly.

"More lovely than those other bodacious boobs we saw back in the theatre?"

"More beautiful and perfect than any on the screen or in the lobby. Because they are yours. Because I love you and love doing this with you." And with that he leans in for a light kiss and gentle lick of her nipples.

"I should get them out more often; make sure you get to enjoy them whenever you want."

"I'd like that."

As he suckles at her breast, she stretches her stiff muscles and massages her neck.

"Maybe I'm a little stiff from what you put me through just a minute ago," she remarks casually, an aftershock trembling through her body at the memory.

"Maybe I should take you home and give you a massage," he mumbles around a mouthful of breast.

"I'd like that. But after you're done there. Take your time." She arches her back to thrust her chest forward more for his pleasure.