Savannah's Anniversary Present
Savannah and Derek had been married for
seven years. She was twenty-six, and he was thirty.
It was the night of their anniversary, and Derek had no
idea what was going to happen. He'd asked his wife if she
wanted to go anywhere special for the night or the
weekend, and she had said simply, "We'll stay home, and I'll
make sure we go someplace very special."
As they cleaned away the dinner dishes, Savannah
was proud of the suspense she'd been able to create. She
knew her husband understood that she had something sexual in mind, and
she knew that not knowing the details was driving him
wild. Normally he did the planning. This was very unlike her,
but she knew he would love it.
Sex had always been part of their
relationship. They were both unusually attractive. Derek
was tall and slight, built out of nothing but perfectly tanned skin
over lean muscle. He was a runner, a mountain biker, and
a rock-climber. He kept his dark hair short, but always stylish.
He smiled mainly with his eyes, which were a rick dark brown.
He was the skinny boy that was so obviously strong,
that women had to actively restrain themselves from reaching out and
touching, just to prove it was real.
Savannah, too, was thin and athletic.
She was a swimmer when she wasn't doing aerobics or yoga. She
didn't tan a lot, but her smooth, clear skin naturally had the color
of creamy caramel. Her dark hair had hints of red
in the right light, and her eyes seemed to match. Her
smile was slanted, half sincere and half sarcastic, but it was always
engaging. Her breasts were perky and round, her rear end
likewise. It was the sort of thin yet feminine figure that
men usually found only on the internet.
And yet they were both real. And both
extremely lacking in confidence. Derek was the sweetest guy in
the world, and was so was accustomed to being used and abused that
he was hesitant to reach out. Even though he was invariably
the hottest guy in the room, he wilted into the corner rather than
command attention. His posture was rigid with muscles, but his
unease with himself still created a slump. Savannah was too smart for her own
good. Men who found a real-life internet hottie didn't want her
to be smarter than they were, or to prefer reading a book
to watching porn together. Other women didn't want their smart
friend to also be prettier than them. She retreated into long,
loose skirts, conservative tops, and black-rimmed glasses.
But, about seven and a half years ago, they had found each other. She was a lonely
and very horny virginal co-ed. He was a lonely and very
horny virginal recent alum. They met in the coffee shop and when
their eyes met, their self-erected barriers to confidence had gone
away. He had asked her out, she had accepted, and the
next day they were no longer virgins.
A few months later, they were married.
Seven years later, they were still in love,
now more confident thanks to each other, and sex was still an
important part of their relationship. Their sex was pretty conservative
most of the time, but always good. Tonight, Savannah was going
to make it a little more special.
She had dressed in a very slinky, very small
black dress, black stockings, and black heels. Her panties
were a black satin thong, with a sequin heart over the front. Her bra was black satin demi-cup. She had
asked her husband to dress up in a similar fashion, and
he had definitely done so. She didn't know what kind of boxers
he had on, but she was guessing black silk. His
pants were black dress slacks, well-pressed. His shirt was a charcoal
grey button-up with a black silk tie.
Once the dishes were put away,
Savannah began walking to the bedroom, knowing that Derek would
be watching the naturally exaggerated sway of her hips, and knowing
that it would entice him to follow.
In the bedroom, she motioned silently for
Derek to stand just inside the door. He obeyed, and
she smiled seductively at him. She peeled off her dress, leaving
herself in bra, panties, stocking, and heels.
Savannah strutted toward him, but paused at least an arm's length
away. "You get to screw my brains out tonight, honey," she said,
pitching her voice low and sultry. That kind of forthright,
unimaginative sex talk was very unusual for her, and a bit
of a turn on for her husband.
She stepped closer and stretched up to brush
her lips across his forehead. She purred. "Seven years is when
we're supposed to start cheating," she said.
He caressed her bare hips and stared into
her eyes. "I don't want to cheat."
"I don't want to cheat either." She pressed her lips softly against his, and then
used her upper lip to pry his lips apart. His mouth
opened, and she slid her tongue in, gliding it along the wet
surface of his own tongue. "In fact," she said into
his mouth as they began to kiss in earnest. "I want
to give myself more completely to you."
Derek clutched at the curves of his sexy wife's butt
and kissed her neck. He ran his tongue up and
around her ear and then murmured into it, "I want to
give myself more completely to you, too."
"Good," she purred. Then she giggled
uncarhacteristically and stepped back, motioning for him to stay
put. She walked around the room slowly, making sure he could
watch her graceful, sensual movements. She had been told many
times in her life that, when she walked, she swayed her hips and
arched her back like a whore, but if so it was simply the way she
walked. She had, however, practiced long and hard as
a girl to move her arms with fluid grace, and she
was proud of that. She used the motion of her entire body
to keep her husband enticed as she lit nearly a
dozen candles and put on some low, instrumental music. Next, she
turned out the lights. "Are you ready?"
"For what?"
She smiled and walked
over to her bedside stand. She pulled out a bottle of
vanilla-flavored oil and waggled it at him.
Derek
blanched. "You know I don't like oil."
"I know," she agreed. "But
you know how much I love it."
"Yes, but --"
"So," she said slowly,
setting the bottle down and walking toward him as if she
was on a catwalk, "if you want to give yourself more completely
to me, give me this. Give me something you don't
want to give anyone in the world. Something that you don't
even truly want to give to me."
Derek bit his lip. He started to say something
but then stopped. He looked at her. Then he looked
around the room. Then he looked into her eyes. "Okay," he
said quietly. "If it's what you want."
She smiled and began slowly undressing him. The tie
came off quickly, but she opened the buttons of his shirt very
slowly, kissing her way along, tasting each part of his
firm, sexy body as it was exposed. "Just wait," she said.
"There's something in it for you too."
She eased the shirt back off his shoulders and then gave
each of his nipples a quick suck, just enough to get him
turned on. Then she slid his belt out of his
pants. And then, as she nuzzled against his crotch, she opened
the pants and slowly lowered them down.
"So," he managed to say
as helped him out of his pants, shoes, and socks, "what
is it that's in it for me."
Savannah tugged him
toward the bed. She lay back on the foot of the
bed, her legs spread, legs hanging over the edge. Smiling, she pulled
him down on top of her. Their mouths met, and
they kissed for several minutes, his hands massaging her breast so
vigorously they popped out of their demi-cups.
"You're going to
like this," she promised him. "A lot."
She then clutched at his head and dragged it down
to her breasts. She let him kiss them only briefly
before dragging his head further down to her silky tummy. She
let him kiss that a bit longer.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
He didn't answer,
but she knew he was. She pushed his head between her legs,
so that his kisses were now firmly planted on her
panties. He kissed them hungrily for a moment before looking up
at her. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"I told you you would like it."
"Oh my god," he groaned,
licking at her slit through the satin of her thong. "Oh
my god. I love you so much."
"Savor it, honey. Take your time."
"You really mean it?"
"Eat my pussy, Derek, please eat my pussy,"
she begged. It was something she never let him do. She
had known when they were dating that he really wanted
to. She knew he loved the taste of her. He always
licked his fingers after they'd been inside her. But she loved to
kiss, and she hated the taste of herself on his
mouth, so she never let him lick her. But tonight, she
wanted to give herself over to him.
Derek had no intentions of speeding through this
opportunity. Once he had saturated her thong with his saliva, he
crouched at the foot of the bed and slipped her heels off.
He then rubbed his face all over her stocking-clad legs,
his mouth open obscenely. Slowly, he rolled the stockings down, bit
by bit exposing her smooth, tan legs.
"So
hot," he muttered, sucking on her now bare calves. He then teased
the underside of her knees with his tongue. When his
mouth first came into contact with her inner thighs, Savannah couldn't
help moaning and clutching at the bedding.
Derek grinned and worked his way very
slowly up her thighs, not moving an inch higher until he had
left a hickey on each inner thigh. By the time
he reached the top, his wife was wet and fragrant, squirming
and flexing her fingers into the bedspread.
"Eat
my pussy, Derek," she begged again, knowing that the simple dirty
talk would heighten the excitement for him.
Her husband pressed his
face between her legs, sucking at the crotch of her thong
and moaning and humming loudly against her.
"God damn you, eat it!" she demanded, flush
with arousal. She reached down to pull off the thong herself,
but he swatted her hand gently aside.
Slipping one
finger inside her to probe within her warmth for her g-spot,
Derek used his other hand to rip the strings of the thong.
He flung it aside and paused for a moment to
admire the swell of her mound, the neat fur of her
bush, the inviting pucker of her labia.
"Please, honey!" Savannah whimpered, pulling
his head into her now exposed womanhood.
She'd never allowed him to practice, so he
didn't know much technique, but his desire seemed to make up for
it. At first he kept fingering her while bathing her entire
mound and labia with his tongue. Once she was so turned
on that she was humping against his finger and his face,
he used his free hand to expose her clitoris. It was firm
and reddish pink. He flicked it firmly with his tongue.
She gasped at each flick, and then when he took it
between his lips and sucked, she screamed.
Savannah grabbed a handful of hair and
yanked his head up. "Too much, baby, too much. Not there.
It's too much. I can't handle it."
Derek smiled and ran the underside of his tongue in one
more circle around her clitoris, but then relented. He removed his
finger from her slit and drew his tongue slowly down the crease,
savoring the array of flavors and textures there. Pressing hard
enough to insert it, he licked slowly back up, tasting the
warmth of her inner pool of juices.
He
reached under her to pull her up tighter against his face.
Humming and moaning, he rubbed his face back and forth across her,
smearing his face with a shining slick of her wetness.
Then he took each of her inner lips into his mouth,
playing with its clever folds very gently.
Derek could sense his wife's body tensing
and warming with approaching climax. He slid his hands out
from under her and used them to gently hold her open, allowing his tongue better access
at her depths. He stabbed at her with it, kissing and
sucking as he did. He slurped and hummed and moved his face
around, searching for an angle that might get his tongue
up at her g-spot. He knew his tongue was long enough
if he could just find the angle.
When he finally did, Savannah
cried out and began clawing at his head and beck. He
rubbed his tongue along the ridges of her g-spot, feeling it change
from a hard surface to a spongy one with stimulation.
She was getting incredibly wet, her fluids spilling out of her,
all over her thighs and his face.
His hands abandoned their task of holding
her open, and he began simply kissing and sucking at everything he
could. When his mouth returned to her clit, she screamed
again and her hips suddenly jerked up and down as she
came harder than he could ever remember.
"Don't stop," she begged. "Don't stop."
She was whimpering. He could hear tears in her voice.
Her body was tense and tight. Her womanhood searing hot. But she
begged him to keep going, so he did. Her body
shook and shook with more climaxes, every one signaled by a
sharp cry of what sounded like agony.
Finally, at long last, she'd had more than she
could take, and she pulled him up by his ears, kissing
him passionately on the mouth. It was a wet, sloppy kiss that
left saliva and smeared lipstick all over their faces. He
could taste her tears. She could taste her own juices. But
neither could remember a more delicious kiss.
"Thank you," she panted into his mouth.
"I should be thanking
you," he said, slurping on her tongue.
"No, honey,
you don't understand." Savannah nipped at her husband's tongue and then sucked
on his check, managing to give him a big, nasty
hickey. "That was amazing. I should have trusted you long ago.
Thank you for letting me feel that."
"Damn, I
love you," Derek granted, pulling her bra off and slipping out
of his boxers. "Give me that oil."
Savannah grinned. She had envisioned a
long, drawn out oiling process, but they were on fire right now, and it
wasn't the time for long or drawn out. It was time
for messy and wild. She knew Derek hated the feeling of oil,
hated how it felt sticky on his skin. She was
confident, though, that once their slippery bodies were tumbling around on
the bed, he would change his mind.
Laughing, she grabbed the oil and
poured it on his back and on her chest. Laughing some
more as he tried to keep kissing her even through this, she
just abandoned all strategy and poured the oil all over
everything she could find. She would trust the movement of their
bodies to get it spread around properly.
As soon as the bottle was empty, she chucked
it across the room and then rolled so that she was on top of him,
straddling his waist. His hardon was hot and full against the crease
of her backside. He had been very turned on by giving
her oral, and she loved the look of his manhood in full
rage. She smiled warmly and made eye contact with him,
pressing her body against him and using her breasts to rub
oil all over his chest and stomach.
She worked her way down his body, dragging his erection
through the valley of her oiled breasts. Giggling, she wanted
to give him a good appreciation of the things the oil
enabled, so she literally crawled underneath him.
They were already getting slippery
and slick from the oil, and soon she was rolling all
over his body, slithering like a sexy serpent making sure they were
both good and coated. Staring into his eyes, she slid
her mouth around the head of his erection. She tasted precum
mixed in with the vanilla flavored oil.
"What do
you think of oil now?" she asked.
Derek's answer
was to return the favor, and crawl all around her body, letting
both of them enjoy the slipping of his hard muscles
against her lean softness. Before long, they were both rolling around
each other, like oiled animals at play.
At last, when Savannah was on her belly,
and Derek was wriggling down her body, he finally decided he
needed more than slipping and sliding, and he eased himself into her
from behind. She was so wet and they were so
slicked up that even laying flat like that with her legs
pretty much together, he had no trouble.
Several violent thrusts
later, Savannah panted, "Let's try something different."
She slithered out from under him and got up
to her knees, thighs closely pressed together. Derek was thick enough that they normally wouldn't even try
something like this, but the oil made it possible for him
to press himself down through the soft, slippery flesh of her thighs.
The penetration wasn't deep, and was at an awkward angle,
but the entire stroke, from tip to shaft rubbed intensely along
her clitoris on its way into her.
It was slow and sensual. For him, every
part of his manhood was receiving constant attention from his
wife's soft, oily flesh. For her, every stroke was like the
slowest, strongest clitoral stimulation she could imagine.
Savannah chewed her lips
as they maintained intense eye contact. She pawed at her
own breasts, enjoying how the soft yet firm spheres felt in
her hands, all slicked up with oil.
As they continued, she became so aroused that her body found another
well of fluid from somewhere deep within, and soon her juices
began to mix with oil on her thighs. As she became a
slippery, it grew increasingly difficult to maintain dedication to the
slow, deliberate position she had chosen. Her arousal was so intense
that she could feel her cheeks warming.
With a growl, Savannah surrendered to
passion. She pushed her husband to his back, and then rolled
him onto his side. Taking advantage of the oil, she slid
between his legs into a closed scissors position, legs spread for
legs, her womanhood accepting his manhood. They strained their heads to maintain
as much eye contact as possible, but only for a
few strokes, for soon she was more concerned with bouncing herself
against him as hard as she could.
Neither of them had a lot left, and a chorus
of grunts prefaced the explosive mess of a simultaneous orgasm
that left a massive pool of sexual fluid from both of
them in the middle of the bed.
Exhausted, Savannah and Derek slowly rolled
into a spoon position at the head of the bed. They were oily
and sweaty. They were drained and floating on a hard-earned
high. They were very much in love.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * *
"Savannah's Anniversary Present"
A Short Romantic Erotica
by Alice Shayne
Copyright, 2010
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