Is That the Best You've Got?

Is That the Best You've Got? Is That the Best You've Got?

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica


Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica


A married couple breaks out of their rut.


A married couple breaks out of their rut.


Submitted: February 06, 2018

A A A | A A A


Submitted: February 06, 2018



The woman and man had been together for a while. Long enough that they didn’t always have to say all that much.

She took the beer from his hand and set it carefully on a coaster, her face illuminated by the basketball game he was watching on the flatscreen. She asked a very short question, her only word in the last few hours. “Wanna?”

The man paused, torn. She didn’t often initiate. His eyes flicked back to the screen. Game seven of the conference finals, and his team hadn’t been there since his high-school days. Following their progress had made him feel like a teenager again. Then again, in his teenage years, no one had ever asked him, “Wanna?”

She had just showered and was leaning back against the arm of the couch, facing him as he sat. Her only clothes were white cotton bikini briefs and an ancient, heather-grey FPU t-shirt, almost transparent from countless washings. The thin material clung to her breasts; her nipples were outlined in clear relief. Her hair was wet and had left dark spots on the light fabric of the shirt. She looked wholesome and fresh, clean and wet. She reminded him of rain.

The woman looked at him with a slightly amused, impatient expression. Her confidence in his answer was deservedly high. Neither of them could remember an instance when that one-word invitation had failed her. The man surprised them both by picking up his beer. This time, her assumption that he was a sure thing bothered him enough for him to react differently.

“After?” he asked.

“But…” she started, and her expression said, I’m horny now. She frowned, biting her upper lip. When she did that, she looked twenty-five again, and the man’s annoyance was replaced by an ache in his stomach. And arousal. He took a long sip from his beer, the action meant to show her that it was nowhere near the coaster she had set it on.

“Is that the best you got?” he asked her.

“Is what the best I’ve got?” She sounded confused.

“Is that your best move? ‘Wanna?’ You’ve got to do better than that. Maybe I need to be wooed.” It was strangely satisfying to throw her usual line back at her.

“Wooed? Did you say you want to be wooed?” The outrage in her voice was only partly feigned.

“Yup.” He sat back.

The woman furrowed her brow, then pulled up her tee shirt and arranged the hem carefully so that it barely covered her nipples. The lower half of each breast was revealed, along with a portion of one pink, crinkled areola. Her body, still damp from her shower, made her cotton panties cling to her like a second skin, leaving her mound on display to his gaze. Her stomach was only slightly fuller than it had been twenty years before. His cock hardened.

“There, have you been suitably wooed, sir?” she asked.

“‘I’ve got boobs.’ That’s your move?”

She frowned again. “Are you trying to make some kind of a point?”

She knew she had his attention. The television was on, but he was looking at the round swell of her breasts, more emphasized by the careful arrangement of her shirt than if they had been completely uncovered. Her nipples were hard. Through the mostly sheer fabric of her damp panties, he could see that her lips were slightly parted, puffy.

He shook his head. But what he thought, and didn’t say, was yes.

“So why are you being so difficult?”

He sighed. He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to fuck his wife. But more than that he needed to talk to her. They didn’t talk enough anymore. Even when they fucked. Or maybe especially.

“Do you know what I do on nights when I’m hoping to get you in the mood?” he asked, carefully keeping his tone as light as possible.

She crinkled her eyebrows, an expression that meant, Go on…

“I make sure the laundry is folded and put away. I empty the sink. I pay the bills. I pick up all the clutter, because I know it stresses you out. Sometimes I clean the bathroom. I basically try to do everything on your to-do list that I can, things that make you anxious. Hell, I’d answer your work emails if I could.”

Her brow was still furrowed. “You want me to go do some dishes first?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Now the man’s annoyance blossomed into anger. Some of it was at her for not understanding, for needing him to tell her things that should have been were obvious. Just as much was at himself, for not having told her far sooner.

“Then what?” She could tell he was upset. But at what? She knew he wanted sex more often than she did, and here she was, offering, but he wasn’t accepting. His perversity made her angry too.

“I want…” He paused, then said, “Never mind,” more sharply than he had intended.

“Never mind what?” Her tone was harder now too. “What do you want?

“I want you not to assume I’m a sure thing. Not to take me for granted.”

The words hung there, invisible, yet suspended between them like deflating party balloons. She looked as if she had been slapped. “I… I didn’t…I don’t.”

“I know. But it feels like it sometimes. And it’s just the equilibrium that we’re in. But it’s starting to feel kind of… crummy.”

Her eyes welled up, but she was able to keep the tears from flowing. Her partial nudity looked incongruous to the man, but somehow in her sudden vulnerability she was even more beautiful than before. For a moment, she looked like the girl who had once run to his apartment in the rain, and stood at his door, soaked to the skin, needing him. Her body looked completely available, open. Her nipples were still hard under the almost transparent cotton of her shirt. His cock, already partially erect, hardened further.

“So, what do I do?” Her voice was small.

He knew it was hard for her to admit; she took pride in doing everything right, in always knowing what to do. The man suspected that he was at least a little bit of an asshole. Why was he making something so easy, so hard? Still, there were things that were missing.

“Remember that summer when we were apart for work? And we wound up having phone sex almost every night?”

The woman nodded, starting to understand.

He went on, “And we had to talk about what we were going to do to each other, actually say the words.”

“I remember,” she told him.

Was it possible she was blushing? He made a decision. “Show me your cunt,” he told her, abruptly, clicking off the television as he spoke.

The woman’s eyebrows went up. Neither of them talked like this anymore, and at first his words seemed harsh, even ugly. Only when she saw the desire in his soft eyes did she realize how he had meant it. She considered for a moment if she should take her panties off, or simply pull them to the side. She pulled them aside, exposing her sex to his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat. It hadn’t felt like this in longer than she remembered.

“Pull your shirt up, but don’t take it off.” The man’s voice was husky.

She did as he said. With her panties askew and her t-shirt gathered above her breasts, she felt more exposed, more wanton than usual. The heavy throbbing of her pulse and the tingling at her center made her realize how much she had missed the sensation. The man’s gaze inspected her, and if it could have devoured her, it would have. She did not miss the sight of his erection that was tenting his pants.

The woman waited. For now, at least, he was in charge.

“Spread yourself for me,” he told her, “then slide a finger into your pussy. Deep.”

This time, her blush was evident. Still, she did what she was told. There was a freedom in not having to run the show. Her finger slid into her sodden pussy easily, her folds gripping her tightly.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” he told her, his gaze seemingly fixed on her eyes and her pussy at the same time.

“I… I’m putting my finger in my… pussy.”

They both knew she’d taken an easy way out. His eyes smiled. “Is that the best you got?”

She took a deep breath as her finger sent waves of warm, tingling pleasure through her body, and she tried again, tried harder. “I’m fingering my cunt for you. Showing you how much I need you. How much I need for you to fuck me. I’m displaying myself to you like your little whore, the way I used to be for you all the time.”

A dam had burst. Her finger sped up, rubbing at her clit in little circles before plunging back into her velvety warmth.

“Suck your finger,” he told her, unzipping his pants. Her words had inflamed him.

The man was so hard that it took a little effort for him to extract his erection from his fly. The woman’s eyes followed him eagerly, her finger never stopping. She moaned, without realizing it.

His cock throbbed before their eyes. For a moment, the woman was hypnotized by the sight, as if she had never seen it before. His words broke the spell. “Suck your finger. I want to see you taste your pussy.” Grasping his erection, he stroked himself slowly as he spoke.

The woman reluctantly pulled her finger out. Even in the dim light, it glistened with her arousal. Imagining it was the man’s cock that was covered with her juices, she took her finger in her mouth and sucked on it as she had been instructed. The man’s erection pulsed at the sight.

“Oh, God,” he murmured, rapt. His cock felt thicker and harder in his hand than he remembered, like those diamond-cutter erections from his college years.

For a moment, the woman closed her eyes, enjoying the tang of her pussy. Long ago, their sex had been more improvised, and she had often sucked him after he’d fucked her, and tasted herself on his thick cock. Now, more often than not, they did things the same way, and sex always ended with his orgasm in her pussy. No, she thought  as she sucked, her cunt.

Today, she decided, she would make sure to suck his cock before he came. It had also been too long since she had tasted his cum.

“Come here,” he told her.

But when she went to climb into his lap, the man shook his head. “No. Stand with your legs on either side of my hips. I want to taste that beautiful pussy.”

This too went counter to the usual script. He usually went down on her after kissing his polite way down her body, in bed. She arranged herself as ordered, standing astride him, presenting her slick mound to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of her arousal. He brought one hand went to her ass, partially supporting her. The other spread her lips with thick fingers. At the same time as his tongue stabbed out and flicked at the spot just under her clit that he knew so well, he pushed his middle finger deep inside.

“Jesus!” she moaned as his finger filled her. She threw her head back, letting the sensations overwhelm her. Her legs trembled.

He continued to lick and finger his wife’s pussy, supporting as much of her weight as she could with his free hand. His tongue was insistent, greedy, trying to get as deep inside as it could before sliding out to flick just so at her erect clit. In his eagerness, he slurped at her bare lips, trying to absorb every bit of his wife, of her pussy, of her wetness as he could.

The woman brought her hands up her body, cupping her breasts, then pinching and pulling on her nipples. Some of it was for her, but once upon a time she had played with herself for his pleasure, and she remembered how much he enjoyed watching her tug at her erect nipples.

She made a mew of disappointment as his withdrew his finger from her pussy. A moment later, he brought his slick fingertip to her anus and rubbed its wetness along her sensitive rim. This also had been lost somewhere along the way. She willed herself to relax, and eased some of her weight onto his hand, allowing his thick finger to worm its way partly into her ass. His tongue was relentless, pushing into her cunt, licking with muscular eagerness, sliding out to flick at her clit.

A few dozen heartbeats later, the man felt that she was on the verge of coming. He knew the signs well. Typically, he would bring her to at least one small orgasm quickly before proceeding to sex. Insurance. Her asshole clenched on his finger, squeezing hard as her body cried out for the orgasm that was almost there. But the man decided he wanted to feel his wife’s first orgasm fluttering around his cock, so he stopped licking and pulled his finger from her ass.

In frustration, the woman ground her cunt against her husband’s face, urging him to continue. Without his finger in either of her entrances, she felt suddenly empty. “Please,” she implored.

Taking hold of her hips, the man pulled her down onto his lap. She gasped when she felt the thickness of his erection sliding between her slick lips. As she tried to adjust her hips to guide him in, he kissed her hard. So hard that their front teeth bumped. They both laughed, remembering their first make-out sessions when they couldn’t get enough of each other. Again, she tasted her pussy, this time on his mouth.

With his hand firmly on her neck, holding her fast as their tongues danced like teenagers’, he used his other hand to pull up on her hips, guiding her onto his erection. He pushed quickly, almost savagely, up, while he used the hand on her neck and the one on her hip to pull her down. In one swift thrust, he impaled her on his thick cock, and she gasped with surprise into his mouth. Usually he was more careful.

She broke the kiss and leaned back, guiding the action more than before. Her breasts proved irresistible to the man,  something that had never changed. He lifted his head and found one bouncing breast with his tongue, flicking at the nipple, enjoying the uncontrolled “ohh…” his attention prompted, as it always did. He let go then caught the other nipple in his mouth, sucking eagerly, almost as if these were the first breasts he had ever seen or touched.

On his cock, she was driving herself up and down, grinding her clit against the base of his erection with every thrust. He met her thrusts with his, enjoying the almost preternatural tightness of her silken, slippery channel. These were deep, powerful movements; his cock plumbed her depths. She moaned, enjoying his thickness inside her and his mouth on her breasts.

As if coming up for air, the man paused in his ministrations to murmur, “God, I love your tits!”

Although she had never doubted it, hearing him say it thrilled her, and when he returned his mouth to her breasts and nipples, she felt the first trembling flutters of an incipient orgasm.

“Yes! Suck my tits!” she cried, the unaccustomed words exciting them both with their fresh newness. Then, “Oh, Jesus Fuck!” as a monstrous orgasm started to roll over her.

Reading her reactions, the man grasped her ass hard, kneading it, and drove himself up at her fiercely, savagely, fucking her through her orgasm. With his mouth he teased and nipped at her nipples, knowing that in the moment of climax the pain amplified her pleasure.

Her cries became inarticulate and guttural. Her body was slick with sweat as he ran his hands up her sides, cupping her breasts again. “God, it feels so good to come on your big, thick cock!”

And as she allowed her mouth to utter words that usually remained unspoken, she wondered how their sex had become so wordless over the years. For his part, the man, grunting as he drove into her, punctuated his thrusts with staccato words. His finger once more found his wife’s slick anus and rubbed and pushed its way in. “It’s… going to…feel so…good to…fill your…tight little cunt…with my…hot cum.”

He too felt freedom in saying things that for too long he had kept bottled up inside. The look of happy lust on his wife’s sweaty, panting face confirmed that she welcomed hearing his words. Still, he was surprised when she froze and said, “No.”

She didn’t give him long to wonder, standing up abruptly, disengaging from both cock and probing finger. In the now cool air, his cock felt almost cold, without the woman’s warm heat engulfing it.

Moving quickly, she got on her knees in front of him and took his engorged cock head into her mouth. For the third time that night, she tasted her pussy, and she moaned onto his cock. She didn’t take him in deep. Instead, she stroked him with her right hand, jerking him rapidly into her mouth. She sucked at his glans gently, hollowing her cheeks as her tongue washed and swirled over his helmet, probing for his slit, then returning to lave the head.

It had been too long for the man since the last time she had been so obviously eager for him to come in her mouth. Both the relative novelty of the experience as well as the physical sensations brought him quickly over the edge. For too long, the oral sex she gave him had been an almost perfunctory part of foreplay. This was different. This was complete acceptance and a symbol of total desire. He groaned that his orgasm was on its way. “Oh god, babe, I’m gonna come so hard!”

A moment later, the man started to fill the woman’s mouth with jets of hot cum. His orgasm felt longer, harder, and hotter than any he remembered in recent years, matched in memory only perhaps by his first blowjob, the one he still fantasized about, given to him at sixteen by a friend’s mother. The woman sucked and swallowed, making happy noises in her throat she she accepted her husband’s load.

Feeling turned inside out, he rested his hands on her head, completely spent. From start to finish, their sex had taken perhaps five minutes, but it was a better five minutes than either had had in more than ten years. They were both soaked in sweat, and their hearts hammered in unison.

She crawled up, curling up catlike beside him, one hand finding his slippery cock and stroking it gently. She enjoyed watching and feeling him flinch when the aftershocks were too intense. When he opened his mouth to complain, she kissed him hard, pushing her cum-slick tongue into his mouth, knowing he was tasting himself as she had tasted herself that night. Her hand teased out one last jolt of after-pleasure before she took pity and simply held his shrinking but still thick cock in her hand, possessively, protectively.

He laughed and broke the kiss, finding her slick pussy with a thick finger. Like her grasp of his cock, his finger inside his wife was no longer about arousal, but easy intimacy.

“Would now be a weird time to tell you I love you?”

“Can’t think of a better one. It’s been too long since we actually said it. Really said it, I mean.”

The woman rested her head on his shoulder and they enjoyed the quiet. Now their silence was different from what it had become over the years. Then, they had been quiet even when they had things they needed to say. Now, they were quiet because they knew there was nothing to say, at least for now. The silence was warm, enveloping them both. It was a preamble to the words that would never again desert them.



© Copyright 2019 oceanrunner. All rights reserved.

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