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Blowjob and a Frozen Pizza

Bev’s red painted toenails waved at me from the coffee table. We had just finished chatting about the week’s frustrations. That freeing, perfect silence filled the room, and I felt tremendously glad to be sharing it with Bev.

I slouched deep into the couch. “What would you like to eat?” she asked. I shrugged. She knew what I liked. After 5 years of marriage, it was best to allow any mysteries, even those as banal as food.

With a cool smile, she got up to prepare something. “Thanks, Bev,” I called out.

“Sure,” she called back.

I heard a few clanks from the kitchen. The sound of cardboard scraping on cardboard. Swishes of torn plastic and a cabinet bouncing shut. Mmm, frozen pizza.

A minute or so later, the preheated-and-ready beep sounded from the oven. Bev slid the Tombstone directly on the rack with a tray on the rack under it to catch the grease. My heart palpitated at the thought of the crunchy, greasy goodness that would soon be in my mouth.

Bev returned and flopped back onto the sofa. She had a wide smile on her face.

“Whatcha thinking about, sweetie?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said in a classic Dolly Parton twang. Flaunting her breasts to complete the impersonation, she leaned in and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. That’s when my cock made like tv reality stars after their five minutes of fame. Up and Out!

Bev noticed. Then she giggled. Then I giggled. She giggled louder. I giggled louder. She sighed. No, no, no—don’t stop. I groaned. She started giggling again. Whoo, moment saved.

“Well… wanna have a screw?” I asked.

She started undoing my fly. “Maybe later,” she said. I was a bit confused because she alakadabraed my pants off as I processed the rejection.

“Wait, what? Where’d my pants go? You said… I thought… what?”

My erection was swinging in the air-conditioned breeze, all lonely. It looked like the abandoned post of a fence at the far corner of a meadow. Goddammit, I hate it when she teases.

Bev put her blonde hair back in a ponytail. Hot damn! That’s the cue. I really earned it this week. Blowjob city is kind of like Detroit Rock City, but with less makeup and better production value.

She got onto her knees in front of the sofa. She glanced over my shoulder and into the kitchen. “Five minutes until the pizza is done,” she said. Then all of my cock was in her mouth. I’m not that big, but big enough to make her gag, which she doesn’t, which I love. The carbon atoms in my body all squeeze together. She releases slightly and delights my tip with her tongue.

“Yes. Thank you. I love you. Thank you. Honey mountain chili romper room that’s good!” I said in maybe that order with maybe those words.

Her saliva collected all over. Those smooth pink lips spread the wetness down and up my shaft, sucked lightly on the stretchy skin just below the head, and I was in heaven.

I resisted the urge to grab her ponytail. That was one of our rules. She said it was extra demeaning. Of course, when I tongue-fuck her pussy, she grabs me with both hands and does her best to drown me in cum. I guess the difference is that I like it. You know, relationships are less about compromise and more about accepting certain inequalities. Anyway, back to business…

Her tip massaged my tip. It stung a little, which made me want to sink deeper into the sofa to get away from it. She opened wide and pushed my bulge into her cheek. I wasn’t feeling up to cumming yet, and I was afraid I wouldn’t before the pizza was ready. I looked over my shoulder. “Two minutes, babe,” I said.

Bev stopped. “Two minutes?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of mine.

“Two minutes,” I repeated, holding up two fingers.

“I only need a minute,” she said confidently, laying her head on my thigh. She used her hand to keep me hard in the meantime. Freaking loves teasing…

Our oven gives off a short beep one minute before the end of the timer. As soon as she heard it, she opened her mouth and went fast and crazy on the end. Even in our most synchronized sex, she never moved that fast. It was almost as fast as when I masturbate, except this also involved her warm, sloppy mouth. How she managed to move like that and not scrape me with a tooth the world may never know.

I could feel the cum start swimming out of me. The best orgasms you can feel deep in the prostate as your body builds pressure–this was one of those. Her head didn’t stop gliding up and down. I knew I would cum any second. I felt the pressure compound up my dick.

“I’m cumming,” I said as warning.

Timing it just right, she focused the final seconds all in the area just under the tip in front of her. She let her tongue take the rest.

The buzzer on the oven rang and a huge week’s worth blew to the back of her mouth. She didn’t move an inch. Taking it all and continuing the tongue massage like a champ.

The buzzer kept going on the oven. Bev swallowed.

“Pizza’s ready!” she beamed.

I love my wife.

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This page contains erotic content, literary as it may be, that might not be suitable for young children. That said, we at Quill and Crop Inc. want you to have a discussion with your children about human sexuality. Silence on the topic of sex encourages ignorance, not abstinence. Erotica has been around for a very, very long time. Erotica has been written in hieroglyphics, cuneiform, and almost every known non-pidgin language. Writing is humanity's way of recording culture for posterity. What culture doesn't have sex? Ipsofacto, erotica. Enjoy!