Cunnilingus Challenge

Blonde

“Ow!” I mumbled aloud. My lips stung like I was biting into a cactus plant!

I had been craving this very moment for nearly one-hundred hours. One-hundred hours! Four days without tasting my beautiful wife’s succulent vagina. Four full, long days of anticipation since I buried my face between her sexy legs and explored the depths of her womanhood with my eager tongue.

Four days and nights, my longest period of abstinence in all our years of marriage, and maybe even longer, if one really gets down to it, which coincidentally was my express intention.

So much anticipation, such high expectations, and a surprising turn of events!

“What was that all about?” my wife asked, feigning innocence as she looked down at me from her perch atop my face.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, my mouth full of her prickly flesh as I gripped her thighs and pulled her closer.

She shifted her weight slightly and I moaned again, and not from the pleasure my tongue was enjoying. It felt like my face was being scraped with a wire brush!

“Now what?” she asked, her impish grin betraying her intentions.

“Did you lose your razor?” I blurted out, turning my face away from her triangle of pubic stubble.

Actually, the pubic stubble surrounding my precious sexual nymph’s vagina was more of a trapezoid than a triangle, as geometric shapes go, but I suppose that is immaterial at this point in my story.

I knew she had not, in fact, lost her razor, as her legs were as smooth as a newborn baby’s.

“Sorry,” I apologized for my bluntness, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I thought you liked eating fur burgers,” she said coquettishly, holding my head with her hands and attempting to direct my face back to where she most needed my attention.

“You made me write that story,” I said defensively.

She was referring to a story I submitted to Literotica about a teenager getting his first exciting taste of the opposite gender in the back seat of a station wagon, a totally fictitious account, written at her request, called, “Summer Sexploits.” In the story, which I wrote as a first-person narrative, I used vernacular language to express the innocence of the young man’s initial foray into my favorite activity.

My delicious wife and I have enjoyed that activity since our dating days in high school, well before she started shaving her pubic hair, and I loved it as much then as I do to this day. But neither of us ever referred to it as eating a fur burger.

Of course, her smooth, clean-shaved vulva is like a magnet to my face, but I guess it is fair to say I missed the taste and texture of her high school features sometimes, at least subconsciously.

As she straddled my face with four days’ growth of pubic hair, her behavior confirmed the suspicions which arose, among other things, when she asked me some weeks earlier to write about a secret fantasy. She wanted to get even further inside of my head than she had already ventured, and took my story as a hint to regrow her pubic hair.

Not that I was complaining, mind you; even barbed wire could not keep my tongue out of its favorite place! But it would be several more days until the new hairs were soft enough for our utmost mutual pleasure.

In the weeks that followed, I savored every opportunity to go down on my succulent wife’s furry prize, making and eating creampies daily, and filling my lungs to capacity with her captivating new scent. After so many years of marriage, I actually felt like I was in high school again!

Then one night, as I was snuggling up to the object of my infatuation, she posed a question which eventually led to the challenge she had apparently been planning all the while.

“Who do you think about?” she asked.

“Hmmm?” I asked, my tongue already delving into her exquisite vaginal orifice.

“You know,” she continued, beginning to breathe heavily as I worked my magic, “who do you think about when you are going down on me?”

I continued licking and sucking her for a few moments, wagging the soft underside of my tongue across her clitoris and occasionally pulling her pubic hair gently with my teeth.

She started to ask me again, “Who do you think about…”

The sudden moans and bucking of her hips told me she was very near orgasm, somehow turned on to think I was fantasizing about another woman, which I was not.

I quickened my pace, and she held my head with both hands as she clamped her firm thighs around my neck and totally surrendered to her lustful thoughts and desires.

Have I mentioned how much I love transferring my own orgasmic pleasure to the woman I love?

When her breathing returned to normal, she pulled my face up to hers for a passionate kiss, which we often share in these circumstances, then asked me once more, “Who were you thinking about?”

I turned the table and asked the same question of her.

“It’s just that I know I taste different now,” she finally said, not answering my question any more than I had answered hers.

“And you really seem to like it,” she continued after a moment.

There was no point in denying it, so I said batman escort nothing. As much as I had always loved her taste, smell, and texture, whether shaved or not, this was a change, and it was exciting!

Then she totally went off the deep end, asking, “Do you think about Wanda?”

Wanda is the name of the fictitious teenager in my “Summer Sexploits” story.

“Wanda is not real,” I reminded her.

“Well then, what about Liz and Katie?” she asked, referring to her two best friends, a lesbian couple with whom we have shared many intimate experiences. “They’re real.”

It was a set-up, and she had me. Ever since she asked me to help Liz and Katie fulfill their desire to eat creampies out of each other, I have to admit their private delights were never far from my wandering thoughts.

Again I remained silent, long enough to confirm my wife’s suspicions.

“As I thought,” she said in an accusatory tone. “So you do think about Liz and Katie.”

“I never said that,” I quickly stated.

“You didn’t have to say anything,” she continued, gripping my very rigid member and shaking it slightly for emphasis.

Betrayed yet again by my personal barometer of lustful desires!

“You were the one to mention their names,” I pleaded my case.

I felt like I was on trial!

“And no jury in the world would expect me to forget making love to two beautiful women, in my own bed, while you watched,” I continued. “I only did what you asked me to do.”

“So now you admit it!” she affirmed.

“I admit to having no idea what you’re trying to prove,” I said, then asked, “Have I ever given you any reason to be jealous?”

“Did I say I was jealous?” she asked.

“You didn’t have to say anything,” I said, pulling my very rigid barometer of lust from her hand and plunging it deep into her wet vagina.

“Oh,” she gasped, apparently surprised by my sudden movement, then raised her hips to meet my thrusts.

Five minutes of unrestrained physical euphoria later, I was fervently slurping up a large and wonderfully messy creampie, and our uncharacteristic conversation was behind us.

Or so I imagined.

The following week, as I was enjoying my favorite activity, my face nestled comfortably in my sexy wife’s soft, sensuously aromatic trapezoid of pubic hair, she surprised me by whispering the words that had turned me on so much before, during a week of spontaneous role-playing: “Pretend I’m Katie.”

We never talked about that week, although it is certain we both thought about it, often.

For my part, I could never forget the blissful week of sexual abandon we shared, leading up to her friends Liz and Katie enjoying their first creampies, the events of which are detailed in a story called, “The Return of Liz and Katie (Part 2).”

Those words, exhaled by my succulent wife in the throes of orgasm, served as a poignant reminder that she was still obsessing over whether I fantasized about other women.

While I will not readily admit to having women other than my beautiful wife in my sexual fantasies, of which I have many, thinking about Katie as I nibbled, licked, and sucked my favorite thing did not decrease my libido!

For the rest of that week, I was asked by my wife to imagine our friends Liz and Katie, alternately, every time I enjoyed my favorite activity. And think of them I did!

I was sure this was leading up to something, but even my vivid and often twisted imagination could not have predicted the challenge my wife and her co-conspiring friends had in mind.

On Friday night my sensuously devious counterpart in marriage asked me to meet her after work at our favorite restaurant, a small candle-lit bistro with checkered tablecloths. As my eyes adjusted to the dim illumination, I caught her wave from the corner booth, where she was sitting across from our friends Liz and Katie.

I was not informed they were joining us.

My scheming wife stood and hugged me before directing me into the booth before her, next to the wall.

As I looked across the table at our friends, and at my wife sliding in next to me, I felt like I had walked into a trap.

“I hear you like to think about Katie and me,” Liz began as soon as our server left with our orders, “while you are performing your favorite oral activity on your wife.”

This caught me completely by surprise. Was there anything these three women did not discuss?

Looking at the three faces staring at mine, I wished I had a glass of water to sip while I tried to think of an appropriate answer, but instead blurted out the first thought that occurred to me.

“What is this, an intervention?” I asked, doing my best not to betray the anxiety I was feeling as I reached over and picked up my wife’s water glass.

“Maybe,” Katie, sitting directly across from me, said quietly as I slowly sipped my wife’s water.

“Would that be wrong?” I asked, setting my wife’s water glass down and pretending to take the accusation lightly.

“Relax,” Liz said, the corners of her mouth beginning to form a wicked smile. “I also hear you are very skilled with your tongue.”

My bayburt escort darling wife, who seemed quietly detached up to that point, reached her hand under the table and massaged the bulge which had appeared in my pants. She was displaying the same smile.

I was confused.

“Tell him about the challenge,” Katie said, leaning toward me but looking at my wife.

Over the course of our dinner, the sexiest woman I have even known, with occasional prodding from her two best friends, detailed a challenge the three of them had devised, while periodically continuing to stroke me under the table in the most pleasurable way.

I was very glad our conversation in that dimly-lit corner booth was not within earshot of any of our fellow diners!

It seems that after hearing tales of my oral prowess, time and again, from my exultant wife, Liz and Katie were ready to entice me with the ultimate experiment. The three friends conceived of a test in which I would put my money where my mouth is, so to speak, but money was not at stake.

If I passed the test, the ladies agreed to assist me in fulfilling any sexual fantasy, no matter how wild or depraved, as if the challenge itself was not fulfillment enough. If I failed, I was to accommodate each of them, together or in turn.

It seemed like a win-win situation for me, how could I refuse?

The rules were simple. I would lie on my bed, blindfolded and tied at all four points, while Liz, Katie, and my wife took turns riding my face until they each achieved an orgasm. That was the first part of the challenge. Upon completion of part one, I was to identify, in order, my three conquests.

If I named all three women correctly, achieving a perfect score, I passed the test and won the challenge. If I did not, I had the option of either admitting defeat, or requesting a rematch, double-or-nothing, with a maximum of three attempts at each fur-clad prize.

As stated previously, it seemed like a win-win situation for me, especially if it went three rounds!

I listened intently as the three friends described the challenge, trying, but not very successfully, to conceal my enthusiasm.

When we finished our dinner, my wife asked me if I was willing to accept their challenge. The question was only a formality; she already knew my answer!

I did have one question of my own, though: “How soon can we start?”

All three giggled, the way women do when they are together. Then my wife asked, “How does tomorrow night sound?”

Liz and Katie nodded their heads enthusiastically at the suggestion, but I had an idea that would tilt the scale in my direction, while making the twenty-four hour wait more bearable.

“That doesn’t give me much time to study,” I stated as though we were discussing a test in quantum physics or some foreign language.

“Study?” my wife asked quizzically.

“Yes,” I answered. “For the test.”

Blank stares all around.

“I assume I will be given study materials,” I continued, licking my lips while directing my gaze at Katie, across the table from me, and then Liz, next to her.

“Oh, I get it,” my astute wife finally nodded, then said to Liz and Katie, “He wants our panties, to study.”

She knows I have a fetish for panties.

Calling our server back to our booth, my sexy wife asked for a doggy bag, even though all of our plates had been cleared. Then she reached under the table, under her skirt, and removed her black thong panties, folded them on her lap, and tucked them into the bag. She handed the bag across the table to Liz, who added a pair of white silk panties with lace around the leg bands, and then held the bag open for her partner to deposit her flowery cotton pretties.

Katie handed the doggy bag to me and said with a seductive wink, “Don’t study too hard!”

Between our racy conversation over dinner, and the thought of three beautiful women sitting naked under their skirts in a public restaurant, I was already quite hard, and figured to be for the next twenty-four hours!

I held the open end of the bag to my face and inhaled the provocative mix of pungent female incense, feeling dizzy with lust, simultaneously aroused and inebriated. The aroma was amazing; I was fortunate to be sitting down!

Arriving home from the restaurant first, I waited for my panty-less darling in our foyer, carried her over my shoulder to our king-size bed, and ravaged her within an inch of total exhaustion, if such a thing can be true. She did not even have to ask me who I was thinking about!

I slept with the doggy bag under my pillow and dreamed of the challenge I would soon be facing, no pun intended.

Waking up early Saturday morning, I got right to work studying for my test. In fact, I was busy most of the day with my eyes closed and one or another pair of panties pressed to my face.

It was a labor of lust!

Although I had smelled and tasted my wife’s vagina for the duration of my adult life, her newly grown pubic hair reduced the ease, at least slightly, with which I could identify her panties using my olfactory sense alone. This encouraged bebek escort me to concentrate on all three pairs of panties, rather than just two, as I had originally imagined.

Each woman had her own sexy and intoxicating, yet different, scent.

Katie’s flowery cotton panties were my favorite to smell, and I could hardly wait to bury my tongue in the source of all that sweetness! While not quite as alluring and capable of demanding my undivided attention as my wife’s black thong, they had a subtle, powdery essence mixed with her own unique musky, womanly bouquet. I felt confident I had memorized Katie’s female attributes, and would correctly identify her when she rode my tongue to orgasm.

Liz’s lacy silk panties, on the other hand, had the most provocative, womanly fragrance of the three, heady and exciting, but not overbearing. They smelled like one would imagine a woman’s vagina should smell, sexy, natural, and inviting. If her vagina tasted like her panties smelled, I was fairly certain I would recognize Liz.

Ironically, of the three vaginas I was to have the pleasure of tasting, I figured my wife’s would be the most challenging for the very reason it should be the easiest to verify, due to her innate familiarity to my face, tongue, and taste-buds. I knew intimately every single nuance of her female anatomy better than I knew the back of my own hand. Therefore, I also suspected she would be the only one of the three to somehow try to alter her flavor in an effort to confuse me. But most of all, I knew if I got just one out of three correct, it had to be my wife, regardless of any form of disguise or trickery, or I would never live it down. I decided it would be best to rely on tactile features more than taste when identifying her vagina.

Then, of course, there was also the matter of order: whose vagina would I taste first? I sniffed, inhaled, and practically consumed all three pairs of panties over and over again, mixing the order until I was convinced I could ascertain each woman’s unique characteristics, whether first, second, or last.

I would have liked to spend more time enjoying the labor of my lust, studying the panties of three sexy women, but at the same time, evening could not arrive soon enough. I was ready for the challenge set before me.

Bring on the tasty vaginas!

“Any final words?” my wife asked in a mock-stern voice as she covered my eyes with the blindfold her friends brought with them.

It was an actual blindfold, the kind one would buy in a store or on the inter-net, not just a folded scarf or bandana. I could not help wondering why Liz and Katie owned a blindfold, and the possibilities excited me, as though I wasn’t already busting the seams of my pants with excitement!

Some additional rules for the challenge were discussed, namely: I was to remain fully clothed except for my shoes; no words were to be spoken, by any of us, participants or observers, once the proceedings began; and the order of appearance would be randomly determined by rolling dice, and would change with each round, should more than one round be necessary.

“Does anyone need to use the bathroom?” I asked jokingly, but not entirely.

The ladies all laughed, but those were not my final words.

“Then let the games begin,” I said, “and may the best man win!”

A moment later, I felt a full-body chill of lustful anticipation as the mattress beneath my back moved, indicating the first of the three women preparing to take her position atop my eager tongue and mouth!

All three had agreed to wear dark skirts for the occasion, which would shroud my head and chest as they squatted on my face, preventing me from seeing anything in case the action shifted my blindfold away from my eyes. I felt my first mystery woman’s skirt brush across the top of my head as the scent of something wonderful and edible filled my lungs!

I raised my head in a vain effort to meet the object of my lust, which hovered just above my waiting mouth for several seconds, although it seemed much longer at the time. My initial impulse was to open my mouth wide and stretch my tongue to its full extension in anticipation of that first pleasureful taste, so close, yet still so far away! I even tried to grab my mystery lover by the hips and pull her soft, mouthwatering flesh onto my greedy face, but was immediately reminded of the ties securing my wrists and ankles to the four posts of our king-size bed.

Wait for it…

I moaned with delight as my mouth finally found its mark: soft pubic fur surrounding labia so full and round they practically dangled, and the smooth flesh in between, already wet with delightful female secretions and my saliva. As my mystery lover rested more of her weight on my face, I was entranced with the amount of female flesh I could suck into my mouth, and there was still more! I nibbled, gently at first, on her labia as they filled my hungry mouth, and moved my head back and forth as my agile tongue explored her vagina as deeply as it could reach. Her womanly musk and sweet, sultry taste made me immediately think of Liz, whose private goods I had secretly coveted ever since sampling her in Katie’s kiss the night she and her lover ate their first creampies. I was so turned on to think I was making a meal of my wife’s best friend’s vagina, I felt like my mouth was going to experience an orgasm of its own even before she did!

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