It was almost 10:30 am before I rose, showered, and descended to the kitchen wearing nothing but an ankle length bathrobe. I didn’t see, or hear my husband enter the kitchen, I think I just ‘sensed’ his presence; turning around from the counter where I was making tea, I found him standing before me, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a knowing smile. Before I could even wish him a good morning, he stepped forward, lifted me by the hips and spinning me around as if I weighed nothing, plonked me down on the edge of the kitchen table. Before I could protest, a gentle push between my breasts left me spread-eagled across the kitchen counter, with legs spread and dangling over the edge, my robe parting below its waist-tie and putting my sex on full display before his gaze.
Moments later I felt the unmistakable touch of my husband’s tongue against my perineum. It was like a spark of electricity and as the full breadth of his tongue slid firmly and slowly forward along the full length of my womanhood, my groan of pleasure slowly culminating in a small yelp as he concluded with a flick to my clitoris. A second, third and one fourth and final pass saw me squeezing his head tightly between my thighs whilst voicing a piercing squeal of orgasmic delight; less than thirty seconds and I’d climaxed!