My Cum Eating Husband - Sex Stories

My Cum Eating Husband

... happy," I said. "That's kind of what I want to do all the time, you know?" It was his kink, and I needed to know if that was satisfied or something we might do again. "Well, I liked it a lot," I said. "From the teasing, the sex, the grinding, the tongue... And especially the teasing, actually. I liked that it made you so uncomfortable. I might like to do this again sometime. What do you think?" I asked.

"I'm glad you liked it. That helps a lot." He sounded relieved and sincere. "Yes, but never ask me if I want to. Just do it, as often asyou like."

The way he said it, I knew he meant often.

Remembering that made something click. I had been thinking about it backwards. In my view, this was something I was doing forhim. But I could see that he wanted to be doing this forme. Like saving his cum.

I watched the video one last time. I was wet. There would be no shame in arriving home a sexual mess. And I realized this wasn't his kink any more. It was ours.

It was only complicated if we made it complicated. And I had more than enough clues about Steven that, if they didn't explain the why, they certainly explained the how. It took a lot of courage for him to share his needs with me. The recording... that was all the evidence I needed to confirm how I should manage this. It was time.

"Even as turned on as I am," he said, "this is incredibly awkward for me." Steven was in his recliner, his cock hard, stroking himself slowly.

I took a few moments watching him, ...

... smirking.

"Good," I said. "I'll make sure to keep it that way. So, you've been at it the whole time like I told you?" I asked. Steven seemed to have a little glaze in his eyes.

"Yes, pretty much. Hard not to."

"Just... thinking about me coming home? What I was going to make you do?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

I nodded and picked up my phone. I turned the volume on high and played the recording, holding it so he could see it. His breathing picked up a bit, and his grip on his cock became tighter.

"Have you ever masturbated in that chair before?" I asked.

He didn't answer immediately, as clear an answer as any. I rephrased it before he could answer. "When you've done that before, I'm guessing it's after I've gone to bed."

He nodded. He needed to be embarrassed, maybe even humiliated, to make this kink work for him. I stood up and removed my blouse and bra, his eyes on my breasts as I sat down again.

"Steven. I expect you to answer when I ask you a question. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"When you've masturbated in the chair, were you thinking about sex with me? Someone else? A past girlfriend or an actress?"

He shook his head then caught his non-verbal reply. "Sometimes you, otherwise, no."

"We've been married three and a half years, and you first told me about your kink almost a year ago. I've been sleeping just a couple rooms away, able to make your dreams come true, but you didn't come to me. Instead, you've sat there dwelling on your little secret, ...