Refill, Please

Damn him. Damn him, damn him. He always does this to me. He's so thoughtless, so inconsiderate. Wouldn't you know I would marry the one man in the world who never refills anything? Even though he knows it is the one sure-fire thing to set me off, he can't seem to remember that.

Monday, he put an empty milk carton back in the fridge. Wednesday, he took my car in for work and didn't refill the gas tank. And now it's Thursday. I have an early meeting and he has drunk an entire pot of coffee and just left a few drops in the bottom of the pot. He knows how much I need my coffee in the morning.

I pick up the empty pot and head upstairs. Yes, its glass, yes, there may be blood, a fight and possibly a trip to the hospital, but I want him to understand the depth of my anger.

Halfway up the stairs, I hear him shower running and he's singing the song I hate most in the world, one he knows irritates me: "Numbers," by Bobby Bare. The most sexist song in the world is coming out of my husband's mouth as I walk toward the bathroom, intending to throw a glass coffeepot at him.

The bathroom door is open, but the steam is still rolling out of the shower and fogging the mirror, and I can see the redness in my face. I raise my right hand, which holds the coffeepot, and with my left, I jerk open the shower curtain.

His head is thrown back, he's singing to the ceiling, and the shower spray is hitting him just below the breastbone. His left hand is on the shower wall, and his right is rapidly stroking his hugely erect cock. His eyes slowly open as he turns his head toward me, and his stroking slows down, but doesn't stop. He gives me a slow, evil smile as he turns toward me and says, "I see you found the empty pot."

I stand still, arm upraised, for a full ten seconds. Usually, when I see my husband's naked body, the lights are dim, and we're preparing to make love. Coming upon him like this, with other thoughts than sex on my mind, catches me unaware. I'd forgotten what a beautiful man he is. No, that's not right. I haven't forgotten. I had just not given it much thought in a while. We both work long hours, we have lots of friends and family, and I just have not spent a lot of time contemplating it.

He's heavier than when I first met him, but not fat. When we met, he was a boy. He's filled out, become more substantial. It suits him and makes him even more handsome than he was as a boy.....manlier.

I lower the coffee pot to the sink as I feel the humidity in the bathroom travel to my nether parts. OK, let's be honest: The dampness in my panties is not coming from the steam; it's coming from the big hard man in the shower. Perhaps it is because it is such a surprise, but seeing him naked and hard and so very clean has aroused me powerfully. I can feel my nipples poking through the silk robe, and wetness is oozing over my thighs.

I untie my robe as he continues to smile at me, and the robe drops to the floor, caressing my breasts and ass on its slithery way down. I return his smile as we stare at each other, and I step into the shower, closing the curtain as I do.

He begins to chuckle, and I put my hands on his chest, loving the way his sound vibrates through his skin. He gives a full, hearty laugh and I put my lips on his throat to feel the sensations. He's a studio singer, and I always love to kiss his neck and throat as he sings, to absorb by osmosis the rich beautiful sound.

He's still fondling himself as I stand in front of him and I can feel his hardness on my stomach, his hand occasionally caressing my stomach on his upstroke. I bend my knees and begin to move down his body, kissing his chest, feeling his heart through my lips. I stop at his nipples, which have always been a sensitive place for him. I take his left nipple in my lips, and pinch it between them. I can feel his heart speed up, and I rub his other one with my hand, pinching it and rolling it with my fingers. He draws in a deep breath, and places both his hands on my ass, rubbing and squeezing, his fingers pressing into me.

I pull away from him and kneel down in the shower in front of him. I am at perfect eye-level with his big heavy balls. They look so tempting, so wet and full. I dart out my tongue and just barely trace the skin over them, touching lightly, which I know he loves. I can hear his breathing change and know that this is going to be a great morning.

I take one in my mouth, the entire thing inside my lips and swirl my tongue over it, using my thumbs to caress and press on the inside of his thighs. I look up to sneak a peak at my handsome husband and his head is thrown back again, ragged breaths coming from his lovely mouth. I pull away from that one and suck on the other as he begins to stroke himself again, looking down at me, smiling at the way I make him feel. I stare back at him, trying to smile, but it's lopsided and misshapen because I still have his testicle in my lips.

As he strokes, I begin to become envious of his hand. He's rubbing himself, tracing the veins with his fingers, softly patting the big spongy head. THAT's what I want, that's what I love. The ridge on the back of that gorgeous dick is my particular favorite. Mostly because of the way it feels when he's inside of me, but also because when I run my tongue and lips over it, his knees shake. I'm determined to make his knees shake this morning, to make him as weak as he made me when I first spied him earlier.

I raise my body up a little and remove his hand away from himself. He groans as I take him inside my mouth, sliding all of him inside my throat. Feeling the veins and ridges scrape along my tongue and the soft skin of my throat makes the wetness flood out of me, dripping down my thighs, joining the water from the shower. I can feel my clit harden and swell while I bob my head up and down on his big dick.

Besides loving my husband, I've always had a powerful desire for him, and today is no different. Just feeling his reaction to my sucking makes me hot for him. Knowing that I am pleasing him, that I am making him happy thrills me, makes me want to make him crazy with pleasure, as he always does for me.

I pull away from him, taking him out of my mouth, running my tongue over the length of him, tracing that beautiful ridge with my tongue, licking his veins and finally have only his head in my mouth. It feels so big and soft against my tongue, and I keep it inside my mouth. I run my tongue around it, swirling, wrapping it in my lips as I suck hard on him. Feeling his big softness in my mouth makes me leak from both ends, as my mouth waters as much as my pussy is.

I move closer to him, wanting to feel him against my body. My breasts rest on his thighs, my sensitive nipples becoming more sensitive as the hair on his thighs tickle and press against them, as I continue to suck on him.

I start to suck hard on him, stroking him with my right hand and roll his balls with my left. The sensations are almost overwhelming for me, as I feel his huge cock in my mouth, the veins against my palm, his heavy balls in my fingers, my nipples on his legs, and the water cascading over me. Everything feels so good I know I won't be able to keep it up for long. I want what he has filling my mouth to be buried deep inside of me, as only he can do. I want to wrap my pussy around him and scream out loud as he pounds into me.

He is gasping for breath as he takes himself out of my mouth.

"Wait," he puffs, "Wait, slow down. Stand up. Stand up for a minute."

I stand, taking my time, staying close to him. As I rise, my nipples drag the length of his body, scraping over his hairy thighs, his penis between my breasts, and on up, over his stomach and chest. I'm so aroused, my nipples so sensitive that just the act of standing up and rubbing his body against makes me weak.

"Put your hand on my shoulder," he says. "Put your foot on the edge of the tub. I want to lick you."

Being an accommodating wife, I do as he tells me, my knees already shaking in anticipation of his hot wet tongue against and inside of me. I know that I won't be able to hold out, I need to cum very soon.

As soon as I feel his tongue on my thighs, I begin to shake. He laughs, and buries his face inside my thighs, but doesn't lick, only rubs his nose against my clit. I can feel his laughter vibrating against my responsive nub, and I start to moan, squeezing his shoulder and feeling my orgasm build. He moves his head back and forth, rubbing his nose over my clitoris, and pokes out his tongue, lining the entrance of my vagina, but not sticking his tongue in.

He knows what I'm feeling and loves to tease me, but I can't take teasing right now. I'm so close, so close to the edge. I want to cum so badly, and I'm so close. It's cruel of him to make me wait.

I begin to moan and pant as my hips start to rock of their own volition.

"Please," I moan. "Please lick me, please. Make me cum, please, please."

He begins some hard-core licking on my clit, long, hard swipes. He rubs his tongue over me in great sweeps, never leaving my clit. His hot soft tongue sends me over the edge.

As I begin to cum in earnest, he grasps my bucking hips, to hold me still so he can continue to lick me, as I scream and moan and writhe in his hands. I grab the shower curtain with my left hand and pop off some of the shower curtain rings. We don't even notice, because I am screaming and cumming so hard.

I continue to convulse with my orgasm, and he pulls his face away from me and sits on the edge of the tub, straddling. He speaks in a rush, breathless, giving me the only orders he knows I would never refuse to follow.

"Come on. Sit on me and ride. Hurry, hurry."

I face him and put my left foot outside the tub on the rug, for traction. My right foot, still in the shower, slips on the slippery floor of the tub, and I fall on him, taking him all at once, all of him inside of me, completely, deeply. My still-throbbing clit rubs against him as he enters me, sending more waves through my body.

Neither of us speaks as we stare at each other and pant, not moving, only feeling the fullness inside of me. He puts his hands on my waist and squeezes as I raise myself, then drop down, again taking his full length inside of me. I can feel his knees shaking as he leans forward and begins to tongue my ear, moaning into my ear. He's speaking to me, his words so slurred; it seems as if he's been drinking.

"Ride me, baby. Ride me hard. Slam down onto me, make me cum hard. Go. Go. Go."

I raise and lower myself on him rapidly, loving the way he feels inside me. I raise myself high, until his head almost pulls out of me, feeling his veins and ridges scraping against my soft tight wetness.

He's squeezing my waist so hard I know I'll have bruises, but I love it. I love the thought that two days from now, I will be able to look down and see those prints, and know that I got those marks making my husband scream with pleasure.

I'm riding him like a piston, up and down, hard, rhythmically. My breasts rub against his face each time I raise and lower myself. Every time I take his full length, my clit rubs against his pelvic bone, and I feel my body start to shudder again. As my orgasm takes full hold of me, he grunts and pushes me all the way down on him, grinding my clit against him and he jerks, lifting his hips high, as he pushes me down onto him. I feel my pussy muscles squeezing his so-hard cock, as he's straining into me, his face contorting with his own orgasm, which he lowers to my shoulder, biting my shoulder and screaming against me.

We cum together, both of us grunting and groaning, as we grind against one another.

As our orgasms subside, we look at each other and laugh weakly. He smiles as he pinches my nipples.

"You know, baby, I may leave some things empty, but I always refill you, don't I?"