My wonderful Husband - Stephen

December 10th 2022.

Stephen and I had been up to the family farmhouse, about a half mile walk away, to have Sunday lunch with my brother Goran, Sister-in-law Laura, and my nephew Pascoe. This was all my family, compared to Stephen who just had his mother and father and me, his husband.

It was now over six years since I had first introduced Stephen to my family during a Sunday lunch and was delighted that he was instantly accepted by them all. I had ribbed Stephen all that weekend, from the late Friday evening when he arrived,  telling him just how big a religious meal Sunday lunch was in our household and that the meal was eaten in total respectful silence, the traditional Cornish way. So when Stephen entered the farmhouse through the kitchen door from outside and had to bend over to pass through the doorway because of his six foot six build, and Laura, exclaimed “Oh My God”!, and my brothers reaction was “Jesus”. I doubled up in uncontrolled laughter. In fact the only religious part to the meal was my saying the grace, as head of the family. A tradition I could remember from as early in my life as possible when my late grandfather said the grace and no doubt his grandfather had done the same.

“Let us with a gladsome mind,

Praise the Lord, for he is kind,

For his mercies, aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.”

Intoning the Grace always brought a satisfied smile to my brother’s face, and was really, the only religious aspect to the farmhouse. I was more than happy to keep the tradition when I was back in the family home which my brother now had full ownership. At our home, I had kept a large one metre wooden carved, and very elaborate Celtic Cross, that had belonged to my Great Grandfather, who I didn’t ever know.

Once again, Laura had outdone herself with the food. There was a massive side of Roast Beef, cooked to perfection as always with all the extra’s we Cornish expect on a Sunday; the same as everywhere else in England except that we have a freshly baked loaf of bread instead of Yorkshire Pudding. To soak up the extra gravy usually left over.  During the meal, there was light conversation and laughter, and my family was trying their best to find out as much about Stephen as they could. One thing was for certain to my immense satisfaction, they liked him.

This cold weekend, as always after lunch I spent thirty minutes or so with my brother talking over the latest business of the family farm, that he took care of and told me of all the problems and pitfalls from the government, and the bad payers for the services we provided as our side-lines. His biggest gripe this Sunday was the weather. Now approaching mid-December, the mild autumn we had was now gone and the northerly winds from the Arctic had really made it cold, but at least it was raining after the summer drought. Heating bills had shot up as had the price of feed for the cattle.

With the extra cash I now had from the inheritance I received from marrying Stephen, we now had no financial worry for the rest of our lives, and I had put more money into the business. I offered more to my brother but he turned it down. It wasn’t needed, and it didn’t make financial sense. I felt I had done the reasonable thing by at least offering, and I knew that my brother was just working of some of the farmer’s frustration that nothing ever was easy. He knew that I had set up a very generous fund for my nephew should he ever follow his father to the UK’s Royal Agricultural University in Cirencester, where my brother had graduated with an honour’s degree.

Stephen had been helping Pascoe with his homework, whilst Laura cleaned up in the kitchen. We said our thanks and goodbyes, Laura as usual giving Stephen a more than affectionate hug; though not jealous, she really fancied Stephen as did most of the women in the village, and we left for our usual five mile walk over the moors above the farm and around back to our warm home. We had wrapped up well against the cold wind, which had dropped the temperature to just above freezing.

Back inside we were able to strip down to our t-shirts and shorts.

Maybe it was because we had slightly over done the wine at lunch but I was feeling horny. So it seemed was Stephen. I looked him up and down and had that feeling yet again that he was the most handsome and sexy man ever. My cock agreed with me and I could feel it beginning to fill and stretch and grow.

I looked at his handsome face, and into his hazel eyes, sexy nose, gentle brows, and sensual lips and two tiny almost imperceptible laughter lines each side of his mouth.

They say opposites attract but we were similar, we are both blond, Stephen being slightly darker than me, and he kept his hair shorter, in a military style which suited him perfectly. We are both very tall, Stephen at 6’6” and I at 6’3”. He has that full bodied frame that starts with a bull like neck with a slightly pronounced Adam’s apple and just below the most amazing set of traps, perfectly shaped, looking like extra-large handles joined to his shoulders.

His shoulders are broad, looking as if they are half a yard wide each side and so well packed with hard muscle.

As if coming out of his throat there is the most divine line from just above his sternum all the way down to his navel. It divides his chest and abs perfectly in just about the most perfect symmetry and from his chest to his abs there seems to be a mountain of muscle over which is stretched tightly acres of hard taught flesh, under from which, when he exercises hard, there are light blue rivers of veins that I just love to worship, especially when attacking his wonderful lightly shaded nipples with his beautifully hardened buds. One extra delight about his nipples is that they are just about under his chest. When he wears a tight T-shirt, it is possible to see the buds pushing against the material.

Then as if they form a ridged valley below his massive chest, are his abs. Perfectly aligned like a small troop of soldiers that he used to command. Two discernible abs just below his huge chest and then below, much more prominent, a six pack, which when he gets really excited stand out raised and hard when he is about to achieve his orgasm.

Below his navel is a hard flat muscled belly. The only blemish on his body is the now barely visible scar from his appendix operation on the lower right.

From each side his tight thirty-three-inch tight waist are those beautiful and highly attractive lines from his obliques defining the separation of his body from the groin to the top of his legs. I have discovered over time that he is especially responsive to having me lick those sexy grooves hard. I also found out that he is slightly sensitively ticklish at his waist, a fact I use to my advantage sometimes.

Below, Stephen has great thighs, not over large like some pro-bodybuilders I’ve seen with legs as big as tree trunks and be so over developed that that the guys could barely walk properly, but I really do admire his lower legs with the hard rear calves that I grab hold of at times when I force him down on his back and raise his legs in the air.

Stephen’s back is amazing, and many are the times I have just watched him strip off for bed with me in pure lust. Again, his traps from the bull neck to his delts stand out and then all his broad back full of tight rippling muscle, in that highly defined V shape down to his waist is such a turn on. There is a highly defined ridge showing his spinal line down to his rock-hard tight arse cheeks, which must be the hardest glutes I have even caressed on any man. That I get to throw my arms around that huge back each night is a delight and to spoon up behind him and cuddle up to him in bed and feel his arms holding onto mine…..

Oh yes then his arms, his delts are massive and most probably must be to connect to his huge biceps. Stephen is not one for measuring his body and comparing it to others, he’s more than satisfied that he looks good. He will flex his arms for me during sex if I ask him to do so, so I can give them a good licking. His biceps are not the ball type but the slightly elongated ones and so much better for that in my view. There is absolutely no way I can wrap both my thumbs and middle fingers around them when they are pumped, they are just too big and the one thing that gets me going is when he is wearing a T-shirt and the material around his ceps is stretched almost to it’s limit, and oh yes, those veins snaking their way just under the tight skin and falling down to the elbow joint and splitting into a delta of streams and continuing down his bulging forearms.

One thing that surprised me about Stephen’s body was his wrists which were tiny, in fact I can wrap my hand around his wrists closing them completely. On the other hand, he cannot do the same to me with my much larger wrists. Stephen once explained to me that at school he was a tall and skinny guy but started to bulk up when he was at Sandhurst, he told me that it really couldn’t be helped with all the exercise they put them through and the muscle came somewhat naturally, that and all the food I was converting into energy.

When he became the military attaché in Brasilia, then Lisbon and Canberra, he was able to pack on more muscle to become what he was now he was with me. It cost a fortune for uniforms, and he told me that as he got larger and larger it became more expensive though the reaction he got was more than worth it. His father recommended Dredge and Skinner in Saville Row; he’d used them for years as he climbed the ranks. Stephen now keeps his uniform in the wardrobe perfectly stored away and only wears it once a year on Remembrance Sunday and he looks magnificent in it.

There are three things more to tell you about my husband’s body. Firstly, his largest organ.

No! you fools, it’s the skin.

Like me being blond he has light skin, but it smooth and over his muscular frame it is tight. Maybe because of my regular attention, only the area around his nipples is pliable everywhere else is taut. There is one slight blemish which is his birthmark which is about an inch by three-quarters of an inch and slightly darker than this natural skin colour and is on the lower left of his back. He’s practically hairless with a light dusting of blond hair on his forearms and lower legs. Yes – yummy his pits are hairless as is his superb arsehole. Woof!

Finally, his cock and balls. There is some pubic hair above his cock which, along with his balls he keeps trimmed and tidy. His cock and balls are in perfect symmetry with his six-foot six body and in a perfect ratio. Flaccid, his cock is about six thick inches as you look directly at it and it’s thick and hangs about an inch below his balls. It’s journey to erection is astounding. I’ve seen it happen on so many occasions and it never ceases to excite me.

It seems to start by thickening slightly and then to lengthen as it still hangs. Then it starts to rise upward, continuing to thicken and grow until the foreskin inevitably peels back to reveal a large shiny cock head and the thickness continues to grow and stretches the foreskin until the vastness of his erection has pulled the skin tight and his amazing cock is at full stretch at it’s full ten inches. There is one long vein along the top of his cock,

When I hold onto his cock, I can wrap both my hands around the length and still have slightly more then three inches exposed. I can just about wrap my middle finger and thumb around his thickness and make them touch, so his cock’s thickness is the equal of his wrists.

When hard, his cock looks massive, but to me when erect, it is in perfect ratio to the rest of him.

It’s not because of the hugeness and perfection of his body that I love him and not because of the hugeness of his cock. I’m only an inch shorter and slightly thinner in the cock department.

Together, we have been mistaken for brothers or even cousins which causes us much laughter and fun, especially when we kiss each other in front of those mistaken people.

I love him and have married him for many things. He is very touchy feely with me. At home he is always attentive; in the car he’s always touching my leg no matter who is driving, and he’s unafraid to put his arm around me in public, and in front of my brother and sister-in-law, and his parents. When we are in the village pub, he will push his body against mine in an almost possessive gesture. He almost constantly smiles, and he has the most marvellous prizewinning smile, and I’ve only seen him angry with others a handful of times. Usually it’s when some older and usually unfit guy tries it on with him or myself and refuses to take no for an answer.

He has accepted all my friends both locally and from further away. He has taken to my sense of humour with my vintage radio comedy and my love of the novels of Tom Sharpe. He tries his best to understand my work and is totally supportive of what I’m doing. He has taken to my love of late baroque and classical music, and he loves my cooking. He loves sailing and kayaking with me and has tried to join the local gig racing teams though COVID sort of put a stop to that, plus the pressures of his work.

The extra bonus is that we love walking over the moors of West Penwith together and he appreciates the ocean at the end of our property, the cliffs and the antiquity of the land, though he does not yet feel the spirit of the land entering his body as I do being native to the land.  Stephen also loves my relating of the ancient tales and myths of the land. I’ve almost got him believing in the giants, pixies and fairies of West Cornwall.

I just adore his deep baritone voice, especially in bed and also when he whispers sweet thoughts into my ear. He in turn loves my Cornish accent, which has become stronger now I’m back home again and living amongst my people. Now, my people, the locals from the village and beyond have come to respect him too.

For some time Stephen spoke of the crosses he had to bear and I didn’t understand what he meant. It was seemingly an embarrassment to him until one evening in early November, not long after he moved to live with me, he broke down crying. I tried to console him, but he refused to let me know what was troubling. I had to tell him that I couldn’t help him if I didn’t know what the problem was. Inside I was dreading that he was going to tell me that he was leaving me. He asked me to wait whilst he collected something from his briefcase.

When he came back he was trembling as he was holding a box and was shaking as he tried to open it. He pushed the box into my hands and asked me to open it.

I was dumbstruck when I saw what was inside. It was his medals from in the army, a dozen in all. I looked at him and told him there was nothing to be upset about them and that they were a reward, recognition for his service. They were lying on the table between us. He explained each of the awards, for service in Iraq, Afghanistan, Northern Ireland and Bosnia, for being a Military attaché and there were service and conduct medals. There were two medals he hadn’t spoken about. 

He didn’t pick them up or touch them. He pointed at the first and then the second. At the first he told me that it was the CGC, the second medal he told me was the MC. 

I had an idea that I knew that the MC was the Military Cross, but no idea of the CGC. 

I had a feeling that we would need a strong drink and told Stephen that I thought we needed one each. I fetched two large cognacs and sat them down in front of us at the table. He told me that the MC was the third ranked medal for gallantry. My heart skipped a few beats at this news. I had previously thought that the MC was an award given for service only. In my head, I took in the news that my partner (at the time) was a hero with a lot of pride but was still concerned at his emotion. His voice trembling now, he pointed again to the CGC. 

It was the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross, he told me. On the reverse were his name, rank, and unit. He continued, beckoning me to turn the medal over. It was true.

Continuing, his voice trembling he told me that the CGC was the second level gallantry award only below the Victoria Cross. Now I was shaking, and I needed that shot of cognac. The only question in my head was how and why. He pulled out two pieces of printed paper from the bottom of the box. They were from the Gazette. There were paragraphs describing the actions in the battlefield that led to the awards of the crosses. The first award, the MC was given for “(showing) great tact in moving the battalion to a position on the flank from which to launch a counter-attack, which was successful and allowed the rescue of several men of his battalion from a perilous situation” 

The second citation was simpler just stating that “The Queen has been graciously pleased to approve the award of the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross to…” with Stephens rank, name and battalion”.

I looked up at Stephen who was now crying. I was numb, trying to take in the facts and full of absolute pride in my man. 

I moved around to kneel beside him and to comfort the big man. His shoulders and chest heaving. But I was puzzled. Why was the award of two gallantry medals so upsetting? After some cajoling, I managed to find out that it was the memory of the events that upset him more. He explained to me that during the second incident, he was certain he was going to die and that as the commander of the units he had the responsibility to look after his men, and some of them were killed. The awards were apparently for his actions in front of the Afghan’s that saved the lives of his troops under his command.

To Stephen, the downside to his crosses were that they were a constant reminder, and he didn’t like showing them off. Then I recalled when we had a meal close to his former home in West Sussex when a much older gentleman of his family’s acquaintance stood up, ramrod straight when Stephen approached him to greet the man. I learned later that the man was a retired general.

The following Sunday was Remembrance Sunday. Stephen always felt a duty to attend, to honour, those of his men, his soldiers, who were killed and injured under his command. He’d have to wear his medals, as an ex-Army officer, but he hated the attention the two crosses brought to him. I told him that I would be proud to be seen with him and his medals and that he should also be proud. He countered that he didn’t want to be known locally as a war hero, but as my partner and someone who now worked here.

I was able to persuade him to attend the Remembrance Sunday service and parade at Truro Cathedral the following Sunday rather that at St Ives church. No one would know him and disturb his mind. What I had forgotten was that news travels fast even in our rural community and word got back to the village about Stephen’s rewards. With the help of my brother and sister-in law, we managed to get the local population to not disturb Stephen by asking about the medals and his army service which most of the village knew about anyhow, but the next time we went to the pub, there was suddenly an air of total respect for him in the way he was greeted. No longer was he the man from up country, the visitor, the stranger. He was now my partner, a member of my family. Nothing has ever been said about the crosses; but I knew they knew.

I had found out that I had a man of great physical stature but also a man of great courage and my love and admiration for him had grown.

 

 We were sitting in our lounge recovering from our walk over the moors and fighting the cold north-easterly winds, what we in Cornwall call a lazy wind, because it doesn’t go around you but through you; actually Stephen was sitting I was lying on the sofa with my head on his lap his huge arm across my chest and my hands holding onto his arm. Outside it was really cold, and the forecasters were promising us a very cold night and frost and ice on the roads the next morning. Not a day for travelling. We watched the local news on TV and were not really interested with the evenings Sunday night programmes.

Stephen stood up and pulled me up to my feet. We were wearing our tight-fitting T shirts and shorts. I was standing facing him when he made one of my favourite moves on me.

He puts his arms through each side of my chest and raises up my arms very quickly, so they land on his very broad shoulders and that they are around his neck. “Let’s go upstairs and put on a porno”.  He takes me upstairs to the bedroom and chooses a video he knows we will both enjoy and get off on. It features a Hungarian guy we met at Heaven in London during our early days together and with whom we had our first threesome. The guy had promised to keep in touch and to show us around Budapest and introduce us to some of his friends. He kept in touch for about a year but then the contact dried up. Never mind.

We had some great memories of our night together with the hot porno hunk. As the video played and we faced each other, we rubbed our bulging crutches together stimulating both our cocks harder and harder, kissing each other deeply as we always do. I pulled off his top with Stephen raising his huge arms in the air, laughing as he knew that I’d struggle lifting off the shirt with his extra height. A slight touch and ever so gentle touch of his waist which I know can be sensitive had him briefly squirming and lowering his arms and joining me with laughter. I pulled strongly on the shirt to remove it from his massive biceps and received a disapproving tut from my husband as I threw the clothing on the floor. Stephen’s military upbringing had instilled in him a sense of tidiness. I broke from our embrace to bend over to pick it up to fold and place it on the dressing table which he always did and, as I did so, he came up from behind me grabbing me around my waist and pushing his hardening prick into my rear.

He spun me around to face him and pulled down my shorts slightly to expose my thickening cock, taking hold of it gently and slowly stroking me. I reached forward to play with the tented bulge in his shorts. After six years together and three years of marriage, I knew what was under there, but was always surprised and satisfied when I saw his immensity. I groped at the hugeness, delighting in the length and thickness, and reached up with my spare hand to play with his hard pecs and nips. Stephen gave out a gasp as I did so, leaned forward for yet another deep sensual kiss.  I removed my hand from his chest and reached around his neck and held onto the right-side trap, massaging it as we kissed. I’d never tire of having to raise my face to meet his lips to kiss. His kisses still thrilled me and turned me on.

Stephen reached up to play with my chest now. Nip play was one of the many delights that we had in common. He was still jacking me off gently but now, my cock was ultra-hard, and I could now smell his muskiness. There was that definite aroma of turned-on man radiation from his neck. I loved it.

We broke from the kiss and Stephen as now caressing my abs and chest under my T-shirt, verbally appreciating them. I assisted him removing my shirt and he gave a deep throaty growl of approval, before, typically, folding the shirt and placing it besides his own. When he came back to me, the bulge in his shorts was tremendous, and as Stephen resumed playing with my erection, I lowered the top of his shorts, and his cock flew out of the material like a released missile, but which had been somewhat restrained from leaving too far from it’s barrel and eager to try to fly away.

Now standing, facing each other we again kissed, now mutually jacking each other’s hardness’s, both of us now pushing our bodies against each other, rubbing our chests hard. I adored the warmth of his flesh against me and pulled him harder to me with my arms now around his back feeling the vastness of his back and the hardness of the muscles, our cocks now grinding against each other. I reached down to pull down his shorts exposing the glorious orbs of his backside caressing them and pulling him closer to me if that were possible. I loved the fell of muscle against muscle and Stephen was checking out may back and arms squeezing my biceps firmly as I worshiped his arse cheeks and firm thigh’s.

In my head I was plotting what we should end up doing. Who was going to fuck who? How long could we make this last. My God, How I wanted him to deep throat me. He was the best at that. I was determined to get my face between his arse and eat his sweet hole. In the background, I could hear the guys on the video getting into their action, mercifully without the dreaded music track which never seemed to fit with the sex on screen.

Stephen turned his attention to my chest, kissing and licking my pecks and nips and licking the tight deep cleft of my upper body, lowering himself. I looked down taking in his blond hair, looking at his cute nose brushing my muscle, and loving his mouth and tongue and the thrill of his worship. Dropping himself further, he kissed and licked each of my abs, giving each of them plenty of attention and each of the ridges before transferring his attention to my waist, and trying to take out chunks with his teeth. Fortunately, my waist is really tight and all Stephen succeeded in achieving was rubbing his teeth against my flesh, with that special gleam in his eyes, and then finishing off each attempt by scrumptiously licking my sides with relish.

With my shorts now just below my balls, Stephen now faced my cock, and I had the total delight of not only feeling the total delight of his sucking my shaft but looking down on his fame below me. The overall span of his shoulders and the immensity of his biceps as he held onto my nine inches to suck on me was a huge turn on. I’ve loved his body ever since I first saw it in Fore Street in town, and it still delights and excites me. He took my full length into his throat holding it deeply and then shaking his head as he used his tongue against the base of my cock thrilling me with the incomparable sensations that a deep throating gives a man. I spread my legs slightly wider, and he pushed an arm between my legs reaching up to place his hand against the small of my back and pulling me harder against his face. He was breathing deeply through his nose and making a snorting sound with his throat that vibrated against my cockhead giving me extra fantastic feelings.

He held my cock in his throat for what seemed an age before freeing it and gulping for air. “Oh man, I just love that huge dick in my throat”, before adding, “I don’t know what’s better; Deep throating you or sucking on your head and tasting your lube and seeing that length still to enter my mouth” and then pushing his head all the way down the length of my lucky prick again pulling me into him from my behind.

He was alternately deep throating me and then teasing my cockhead with his tongue and then decided to pull off my shorts. I stepped out of them as he tidied them away with our other clothes and I caught sight of his dick, hard, thick, and long bobbing in the air unattended, with a tiny line of pre-cum, dangling down towards the floor. I wanted to lick that off him desperately, but he continued jacking my cock against his tongue, licking my juice.

Again, he let go of my cock and I pulsed it smacking his face and tongue hands free. He moaned once again, now looking up at me, his eyes looking into mine as if beseeching me to continue hitting him like that. He wasn’t even touching his cock. It was bouncing in mid-air seemingly seeking attention from a hand, mouth or trying to find a hole to enter and fuck. The line of lube, jumping up and down like a fixed yo-yo.

This evening Stephen was an oral fiend, wanting my dick so much. I started to fuck his face and he extended his jaw and turned his head slightly so that I was fucking his cheek, the flesh stretch as I hit the resistance. It looked so erotic, and still the guy on the screen were moaning and enjoying their recorded action, but we weren’t watching.

When he let go of me, I reached under his chin and pulled him off of his knees to stand next to me and rewarded him with a huge kiss. It was delicious; I could taste my juice on his tongue, and I found it thrillingly exciting. Whilst checking out each other’s bodies, we were staring into each other’s eyes, full of desire and want. I felt his cock, prodding against my belly as if demanding attention from me and I sank to my knees, and took in the enormity of his atrocious cock in front of me. The weight of his blood engorged weapon was making it point directly towards my face and I really didn’t know where to start to look over the monster, as I was so attracted to it and the man it was connected to. I know just how heavy the desirable phallus is when fully erect, as I’ve held it so often. I looked at his cockhead, overwhelmingly large; an inch and a half of juicy shiny glans with that slightly raised tip at the end, and the reverse heart shaped underside with the tight skin being stretched towards his thick shaft. Then I admired the thick tube underneath and wondered about all the piss and cum that had passed through it and licked my lips at the thought of later when Stephen would be shooting yet another huge load all over me. Then the top of the cock with that wonderful vein shaking along the length from joint at his sexy belly to the thick smooth ridge where his tight unravelled foreskin joined his cockhead. I gently blew air over the head of his cock, something I knew he liked. A rumble came from his throat and deeply he muttered “Yeah”.

I managed to get the head in my mouth plus a couple of inches. I’ve not been blessed with a large mouth and Stephen is so huge that I cannot take much more than that. He’s so understanding about it, but I have a talented tongue and Stephen leaks a large, sweet tasting lube. He reacts so well to my sucking, sometimes throbbing his cock and really filling my mouth as I suck and slowly fucking my mouth to release more of his juice. Today it’s the same, though I never tire of it, and I grab hold of his rock-hard glutes to hold him in place. The combination of his cock in my mouth and those wonderful arse cheeks sets my head spinning. I want to suck on this beast of a dick for ever, but I also want to eat my husband’s hole as well. The idea of 69-ing with him is always appealing and wonderful, simultaneously sucking each other and rimming out our holes at the same time appeals as well, and after, the delight of our kisses, tasting both our body juices on our lips and tongues. Fuck, I want to do all this at the same time.

My head was so full of these thoughts that I was unaware that we had ended up on the bed side by side, kissing each other and looking at the screen.

We sat up on our bed, naked and hard, our arms crossed over each other stimulating each other’s erections as we watched the action on the screen. When our former friend appeared on the screen Stephen would remind me of what we had done to the guy when in my rooms in London. This excited me into a reminiscence of something else that happened, and a hot guttural moan came from Stephen’s throat.

He pulled me up from the bed so we were kneeling facing each other on the mattress and he grabbed hold of both our erections with one hand and was slowly wanking both of us together. He was nuzzling my neck, kissing it and licking it, exciting me and then licking my shoulders before going down to suck and lick and chew on my nipples. As he sensually attended to me, he was talking away all the time, still reminding me of what happened between the three of us. It was all about what I was doing and what was happening to me. Stephen was actually excited watching me have sex with another man and joining in the action.

We were still facing each other and I was caressing Stephen’s back muscles and his arms and chest and abs, loving every hard curve of his sensational body. It was very obvious that the extra exercise we had during the lockdown and over the past very hot and dry summer had improved both our bodies and we were much tighter and harder.  After some deep kissing between us Stephen returned to licking my body paying attention to my waist and abs and my navel.

The porn film was still being played and the guys were giving our friends arsehole a good rimming out, one guy above by the erection and the other below. The two men were almost fighting each other to get their faces in between the buttocks of the lucky man. Stephen must have glimpsed the action on the screen as he told me that he remembered me enjoying myself rimming the same hole and that he was so excited watching it that he nearly shot his load on the spot.

I doubted it and told him so. “No Gerren, I’m telling you that I thought and still think that you are one of the sexiest guys I know and seeing you in action with another guy really stimulated me so much. I had a very hard time trying not to shoot on the spot”.

The scene changed to show the guy now being blown and again Stephen moaned. “Oh yes, and you sucking that guys fat prick as well. Those sexy lips around that shaft and the lustful look in your eyes as you blew him”.

“You have a better recollection of events than I have”. I told him.

“It’s all like a video inside my head”. He explained. “I can tell you that for the next few nights, I jacked off thinking of you and I with the guy and what we did”.

“Do you remember it all now”? I was intrigued at his memory of it all.

“Most of it”.

“Damn, is it the same with just the two of us”.

“Yes, and even more so when we have had group fun too. Do you recall some of the action we’ve had together with others”.

I told him that I did but maybe not in as much detail as he seemed to do, but I still hadn’t told him of my writing these reports of what we got up to.

I was caressing his arms and chest with one hand and stroking his giant erection with the other and told him “I do remember how you look when we have sex and especially this thing”. I squeezed his cock tightly. “Watching it disappear down a hot throat or fully filling a guy’s hole and seeing him re-appear and being amazed at its length and thickness. That’s something I can never forget”.

“Yes but you’re almost as big as I am”?

“True, but I get off big time watching you as well”.

“What’s the most exciting thing we have done together”?

I re-joined both of our erections together again in one hand, trying with difficulty to grasp them together in my fist.

“This”. I looked into his eyes, but when we are deep inside a guy. I just love the feeling of you fucking against my cock. That’s the best”.

I felt his cock spasm against my own.

“Anyone in particular who was the best at taking us both”?

“Do I have to tell you? Can’t you guess”?

He guessed correctly.

“Mike and Carl”. I nodded. Stephen’s friends and lovers Mike and Carl were by far the best. “Chris is a very close second and was perhaps the most exciting”.

Yes, Stephen was right, Chris was very exciting as he never expected it, and as I thought at the time, it was his first time being doubled and really enjoyed the struggle trying to get both our cocks inside his sexy butt.

We were now getting very passionate with each other, kissing deeply as I wanked both our dicks together. Stephen spoke up. “Gerren, go down and rim me”. He lay down on his back his legs apart allowing me to get closer to him and then grabbed a thick pillow and almost rolled himself into a ball placing it under his lower back, raising up his buttocks by an extra couple of inches. One of the reasons I love rimming Stephen is that he is hairless down there. I eaten hairy arse before and it’s not pleasant.

I dived down into his hole with relish, initially just blowing air against it and watching it spasm, winking expected at me, as if urging me to get my tongue there. I like teasing it at first but yeah, getting my tongue to his hole is the best as his reaction is always the best. Gently touching around the sensitive outer area of it as a teaser gets Stephen moaning licking it with a dry tongue to start before wetting it and pushing against the open fleshy muscle.

Stephen was beating his dick, his balls swinging around was indication of it and I was hard but using my hands to hold up his legs. Again, I teased him some more by air blowing his hole. I could just see the porn video on the screen from where I was hoping there would be some on-going rimming action, but they had moved onto fucking. Damn, it would have been good to see some good arse licking to inspire me, not that I really needed it.

What did inspire me was Stephen’s urging me to continue and to “get in there”.

I thrust my face tightly against his backside, having really wetted my tongue and gave his hole a hard wash circling my tongue around the area and pushing hard against the entrance. I got the reaction I wanted. He called out loudly; it was obvious I had hit the right spot. If he had the sensation that I get when he rims me then the shockwave would have travelled up the hole into his spine and hit his brain like the bell at the ‘High Striker’ at the funfair. I licked away at the spot, wetting it with more and more of my spit and rejoicing as his hole relaxed more and opened for me and his vocalising increased.

I patted his backside and suggested a change in position and lay down on the bed. Stephen knows me well enough to know what to do and he crouched over my face facing away from me, and lowered himself down to my mouth. Again, I lapped away at his muscle really forcing my face into his crevice. His smooth hairless hole a delight to lick and tantalise. I could feel him jacking off again, though sadly, I couldn’t see him and his best side. Nothing could be better than to see my gorgeous husband naked and totally pumped up and hard above me. I was however just delighted to be rimming him out.  I was able to reach forward and grab hold of my own cock and was jacking myself. The intensity of my rimming increased, and Stephen was flexing his hole as I licked. My mind turned to getting my dick in there a little later and I was forcing more spittle into his hole and giving it long forceful licks. I knew he was really enjoying it as the ferociousness of his wanking increased, and I too increased the speed of my jacking. His voice was getting louder and louder and his hole was almost sucking in my tongue. Suddenly he sat down hard on my face, calling out to me to keep going and telling me just how great it felt.

I felt a hand on my nipple, Stephen was pulling and twisting it hard, an action I loved when shooting my load. I was sucking and licking on his hole which was now tight on my mouth. I was able to breath but I was unable to adjust my head to free my nose which was also being pushed against by his arse. His moaning increased like a musical crescendo, and his urging and pleading grew louder and desperate. I could feel my balls tighten, and knew that I was not far away from shooting. I knew that I’d have to hold back if I was to fuck his prepared hole shortly.

His wanking was now frantic, and I was now hoping that he wouldn’t be shooting just yet. I was about to tell him to move and his hole gripped my tongue tightly and he growled huge moan, from the depths of his lungs to the top of his head, shouting out loud, and telling me just how great I was, and I felt his load fall all over my chest and belly and further onto my legs. His hole contracted and expanded each time he shot a blast of cum over me and his hand gripped my nipple tightly. This set off the electricity between my nipple and balls and completed that marvellous electrical circuit, closing the link to my brain and setting off my own orgasm.

Stephen still squat hard against my mouth muffled my calls but I continued licking his hole as I shot my load. I could hear my juice splatter against his body and felt the remains fall on my abs and chest. It was so intense. After a few moments, he moved away slightly from my face allowing me to breathe more easily and relieving my nose from being squashed.

His huge muscular body above me was shaking. “That was so intense Gerren. I’ve never felt like that before, just being rimmed out. I’m not sure what happened there; if it was the thought of you doing it or my body’s reaction to it or both, but that was amazing”. He climbed off me and crouched over me, kissing me gently, and smiling that huge sexy winning smile at me. “How was it for you?” he tenderly asked me. Jokingly and nasally I told him. “You squashed my dose”. Immediately he was kissing it better. “I love your nose and every atom of your body. No one but no one turns me on more than you do. Thank you”.

I had wanted to fuck, but his concern for me was better; much better. There was still time when we turned in later that night.

Later that evening when I was alone, listening to some music, my mobile rang. It was my best friend from my time in Jamaica, Newton, who now lived full time in London.

He was calling about our getting together in the New Year. By the end of the call I was even more turned on than I was rimming out my husband. Newton had something very special in mind for the three of us.