My Cum Eating Husband

*** Note: As the title suggests, this story is not in my usual wheelhouse of themes. If you're here for what you're used to, maybe take a step back. 😉 ***

My Cum Eating Husband

Steven stood in the kitchen wearing only his pajama pants, filling his cup with ice and water from our fridge. The tent in his pants was conspicuous and, well, it suited me.

I knew I was partly responsible for his situation. This was my second day showing houses to an out-of-town buyer, one who had to make a quick decision with a looming transfer. He wasn't married but of an age and income... and LinkedIn photo... where I had guessed correctly that looking sharp, and a little sexy, might help the process. I mean, I had a contract with his company, so I knew he was committed to me as an agent, but sometimes people get uptight when they're hurried and committing a lot of money.

My outfit the day before hadn't distracted him from the task at hand, but I appreciated his glances during the day. Same plan for today. The shortness of my skirt was similar, but today my blouse was tighter though showing less cleavage. Professional, yes, but showing off a little, too.

And, to Steven's predicament, he usually doesn't watch me dress, but when I had started with a G-string earlier, he took note. For me, it was less about the lines and more about confidence. When I wear a G-string, I feel like I can get what I want, and, I almost always do. For him, well, I didn't ask him what he thought, but I suspected he was jealous to some extent between that and what I had described as a very attractive buyer. Those aren't bad feelings to nurture in your husband occasionally. I'm not looking for other options, but it doesn't mean I couldn't. He knows.

"Let's hear it. What were you thinking when you watched me get dressed?" I asked.

"Oh, the usual? Your customers don't need a sexy woman to sell a house. And it shouldn't require sexy underthings," he said.

"You think I'm sexy?" I squeezed my shoulders to accentuate my breasts. Doing so didn't leave much of their shape to the imagination, I had to admit. "And look how hard it makes you."

I unfastened the fly on his pajamas and pulled his cock fully through it. "You're wearing less underwear than me. But there you go," I said. "Show me how big you can make it."

He knew what I was asking and squeezed the base of his cock causing it to stand at full mast, the head swollen. It's not that I didn't enjoy seeing him like this, but this encounter was part of a game for me, though to him it was a prelude to a kink. While looking at it, I asked, "And what are you going to do about that while I'm gone?"

"Nothing," he said, frustration in his voice.

"Oh, sure you will. You'll be thinking about me, about what I'm wearing, about whether my client thinks he should make a move on me, and how you're stuck at home all day with a swollen cock. You will keep it swollen, won't you?"

I gently fondled him and then began stroking him slowly. He was shaved smooth there, and he keeps it that way not because I like it, but because I told him to do it. It's not that I tell him what to do, but he's willing to do more if I satisfy his kink.

"You're just teasing me," he said.

"Well, of course I am," I said, teasing the head with my fingertip. "I have a client to meet!"

It didn't take long until a large drop of pre-cum appeared at the end of his cock. I gathered it and placed my finger at his lips. He opened his mouth readily and licked my finger. Funny how his cock jerked a bit as I did that.

"Good boy," I said, not like I would to a dog, but, well, kind of. I don't treat him like a dog, of course, but in this one thing, it's clear that he's quite timid. "You know I'm doing this for you, don't you?"

It was his kink after all. I'd never have imagined it. I grabbed him by the balls firmly and squeezed, not to hurt him, but to remind him of the way things were. They felt gloriously big and full, as they should. I had been very obvious in denying him any release for most of the week, and he knew why.

"It feels like you have a lot of cum in there," I said.

He looked very sheepish. "I'm certain I do," he said.

He may have masturbated without me knowing it, but I suspected he didn't do that anymore. Why not be sure?

"Tell me, have you masturbated since we last had sex?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so."

"You don't think so? What, you don't remember?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes away, avoiding contact. When they returned to me, I gave him a questioning look. He wasn't getting off the hook, which was part of his kink. "Some, but not to the point of an orgasm," he said.

Huh. "That's quite some self-restraint for..." I did the math. "Five days? Tell me why."

He just shook his head. He hated this, and he loved it. I almost laughed. He's seven inches taller than me, but somehow it was me looking down on him as our eyes locked. "Tell me!"

"I like the taste of my-precum," he admitted.

Well, duh. Okay. I preferred that to cum, myself. That may have been a fact, but if he thought I was going to let him off easy..."

"I don't think you jerk off just to taste your pre-cum." I slid my finger over his tip, gathering more. He opened his mouth, but I stopped short. I cupped and weighed his balls. "They feel really full," I said, "like maybe you're saving it for me." I knew when I said it that I had it right. And wrong, bless him.

He couldn't make eye contact. I pulled his balls downward, forcing his cock to stand straight out. "Tell me," I said teasingly as I trailed a finger across its length, "and I'll let you suck my finger..."

"Yes, I'm saving it for you," he said.

"Right. Go on," I demanded.

He broke a little laugh. "You're killing me here," he said.

I jerked on his balls making his cock bounce, giving him a very satisfied smile. "Out with it! Why do you not finish yourself?" I finally asked.

"It's more for me to lick..." he began.

I interrupted. "Stop! You wouldn't lick your cum on your own if your life depended on it. Get it right."

"It's more for you to make me lick up," he said.

Teasing is fun. "More... what?" I asked.

"More cum. For you to make me lick up."

I smiled brightly. "Well, good," I said. "I like that."

We were still feeling our way through this cum-eating kink of his. I was Vice-President to his President in our marriage, which I liked because somebody had to be in charge, and I didn't want to be. But this kink required that I take the lead. I loved that he felt okay sharing his kink in the first place. I knew it was difficult for him to share, but how could I not support that? That said, I wouldn't have guessed at how much fun this would become be for me to suit his needs.

The real world was waiting. "It's going to be a long day for me, you know," I said. He nodded. I looked at my watch. Crap! I was risking being late...

"Strip. Now," I demanded.

He did.

"Get on your knees."

He did.

I walked to him and raised my skirt. I knew what was going on between my legs.

I was in a hurry and found myself horny as hell. "Smell," I said.

He did.

"What do I smell like," I asked.

"Sex. You're soaked!" he said.

Dammit, I was. "And I don't have time to do anything about that because I'm running late."

That wasn't entirely true, factually. Still... I raised my skirt. "Pull it down."

He did until it reached my ankles. I flicked the G-string away with my feet.

"I want you to think about me going out like this and spending all day with Paul. That'll help you keep your cock hard all day won't it? Remember, he's six four, single, good looking, qualifies for a huge mortgage and probably has a giant cock." He was only 5'11" or so, but Steven didn't need to know that. I realized he was leaning towards me, probably intending to lick the insides of my thighs. No time, Dammit! I stepped away.

"Stay naked all day. You can lick whatever pre-cum you want, but when I get home, I better find you hard and your balls just as full. I'll let you cum in me or on my breasts, or wherever you like." Then I added in a warning tone, "But if you don't obey me, you'll beg me to let you cum on my toes." I don't know where that came from, but it did.

I gathered my bag, cellphone, purse and a couple Kleen-ex to dry off. "Follow me into the garage." I started moving but he didn't. "Now!" I ordered.

I had him stand in front of my SUV and raised the garage door. "Start stroking," I said. I put my things in the passenger seat except my phone. Somewhere on his phone or computer I knew he had pictures and videos of me doing every naughty thing we'd ever done. Well, it was my turn. I didn't need it or bother to ask myself about the wisdom of it.

I began recording and pointed my phone at him. I walked close, capturing his cock as I again wiped the tip, and following my finger to his lips where he sucked. He looked more than a little surprised and maybe worried. Whether it was about the phone, the garage door being open or my little act, I wasn't certain, and it didn't matter just now. I backed away to capture him in full.

"You know what I expect you to do after you cum?" I asked.

He nodded his head. Oh, Steven. I understood at that moment his kink more than I ever had before.

"Tell me how the story ends. You know you want to tell me."

"I'll lick my cum from you," he said, casting his eyes to the side.

He was so cute about it. "Look at the phone."

He did. Still stroking, poor guy.

"Yes, you will lick your cum from me, and why will you do that?"

"Because I love it when you make me eat my cum."

"Steven, you're my cum-eating husband aren't you?"

"Yes"

"Say, it."

"I'm... your... cum-eating husband." He said it in breaths, stroking his cock hard.

"And whose idea was it that I should make you eat your cum?" I asked.

"Mine."

Damn I had to go! But I couldn't stop. "And how much of it?"

"All of it," he said, like a teenager acknowledging a chore. And it probably would be by the time he was done.

"Every trail, every drop, every smear, isn't that right?"

"Yes," he said, his tone and face a conflict of shame and excitement.

"Look at you, standing here, all naked. Your cock looks so hard it could snap. You've been waiting five days. You want this badly, don't you?"

"Yes, please. I can't take this much longer."

What a powerful thing a kink is. Or, maybe just an erection.

"Stay there until the garage door is closed," I said. I got into the car and quickly placed my phone in the holder, pointing it towards him over the dash. I backed out slowly to capture his concern as he looked past my car, but I quickly pressed the garage door button as I cleared the door. I knew the neighbors better than he did, and I didn't really want them seeing him... that way.

He would have a long wait ahead for relief. And, I realized, so did I. I turned the camera function off and used the Kleen-ex to tidy myself and hopefully not wet my skirt. Ugh. Any more than it was.

***

The day with my customer began well as I mentioned the homes that we would see today. Paul was speculating that we were would get to know each other very well through the week the way things were going. I noted an element of hopefulness the way he said it, and didn't want to dwell on why he might. In any case, I was confident that the houses we would visit would be better as I had learned more details of his preferences and was hopeful it wouldn't take the full week for him to choose one he liked. But if it did, he was good company.

And to that point, a thought kept nudging my head. I didn't dress provocatively, but... maybe I overdid it? Yesterday, he had followed me room by room, which in itself was typical. Still, that feeling... He seemed to keep an optimal distance for checking me out, but I could feel him checking out my ass and calves, especially when we climbed stairs.

On one of the longer drives between homes, I had noticed my skirt had slid up quite a bit only because I happened to catch him checking out my thighs. It was entirely accidental, but... he might think I was sending signals.

Today, it was much the same. The conversation was casual, but the appreciation in his eyes... was it intended? Was I imagining things? And he definitely checked out my bustline more, an easy tell when eyes moved up to meet mine. I hadn't dressed to avoid that, I knew.

At lunch, his eyes bobbed over the menu to check out my tits when I returned from the restroom. It's not like he was being obvious; he was just being a guy, but maybe a guy who wasn't mindful of my wedding ring? And damned if that didn't turn me on. Married and desirable felt good on me.

I did my best to keep my mind out of the gutter between Paul's good looks and wandering eyes in contrast to my husband's "situation" at home. I was strangely aroused by both, and a slight blush and perky tits did nothing to help. Business. I described the next houses on my list. It worked well enough.

Around mid-afternoon, I knew we'd found the right house. A nice master with three additional bedrooms for helpful resale value, a basement that already had a finished bar, not too large a lawn to maintain, good dining and entertainment options nearby and pretty good access to his office and the airport for his work.

We talked about it and decided to go ahead and call the listing realtor. I sat opposite him on a couch as I talked with her. Qualified buyer, loan amount pre-approved, an offer not far off the asking price. She needed to contact the owners, of course, and hoped to get right back with me.

As I was about to end the call, I caught him looking my way but not at my eyes. I was practiced at keeping my legs closed but they had parted slightly during the conversation, maybe due to the pillowy nature of the cushion as talking with a deal with another realtor isn't particularly relaxing. And for some reason I glanced between his legs. I didn't even think about it. I just did. Definite boner. And I was pretty sure he noticed.

Though it seemed an eternity, she was only ten minutes getting back to me that her client would accept at a slightly higher but acceptable price. Paul was super excited, hopped up from his chair and pulled me up from the couch to embrace me in a hug.

One of his hands grasped my butt low, sliding a little to get the feel of it while pulling me close. Or maybe he was seeing if I was wearing panties. Or if my skit was wet. Was it? Dammit! I could feel his cock press against me, slightly askew. I at least had presence of mind to not straighten it!

Fuck. He smelled good. Had he smelled like that yesterday? My nipples hardened. I separated from him in what would shortly be well beyond a celebratory hug, especially if ground myself against him! His gaze, damn him, checked out my nipples poking hard at my blouse. I was glad I hadn't recklessly abandoned my bra like I had my panties. It was the curse of long nipples.

His look lingered a bit too long for me to imagine it being something it wasn't. I was moist. He was hard. How long had he been imagining what was up my skirt? Did he actually see anything? That made me blush. He placed a hand on my arm and asked me if I would be interested in a celebratory cocktail. At his hotel bar. And had he emphasized cock?

Uh huh. I needed cock, but not his. I made excuses that I was married, had we met maybe five years earlier... I don't know what I blathered. He didn't look bothered or angry or anything. He just had a look of someone who asks with confidence and probably hears "yes" a lot.

I returned him to his hotel, as I had picked him up there. The chat was maybe less than it had been, but all that was running through my head was that if I wanted, I could say 'yes.' Not that I would. But just being hit on made me feel different. When we arrived, he raised an eyebrow essentially asking if I'd reconsidered. "I'll review the paperwork when the seller sends it over, and we can meet at the office tomorrow," I said.

Good move. Office. Others there. Safe. Fortunately, he acted as if nothing was amiss, and I sped away questioning my state of mind. Paul was good looking, and... I forced myself not to dwell on that. On him. I thought about Steven, home alone, probably jerking off, and... laughed. Opposite ends of the universe, but... I think I liked the idea that Steven was... what? Caught up in his own thing? Naked and alone? Ha! Obedient? Hmm.

I drove to the library a few miles from our house, parking under a tree in the rear. I wasn't ready to be home just yet, though my libido suggested I was already late. I had been dying all day to watch the video I'd made of him. It was less than two minutes long, but, of course, it took longer to enjoy it as I kept replaying it. I had to give myself an A for the way I handled it. It was fun and came naturally. Huh.

My thoughts turned to how I wanted to play this out. What I might want him to do. Or, what he might want to do the least.

I wanted to feel him shoot that load inside me, or watch him coat my breasts... Honestly, my feet sounded interesting too... they were all so good. A wicked smile crossed my lips as I had a vision of him unknowingly licking Paul's cum from my cunt and... blazes! Where had that come from? And when had I started fucking myself with my fingers? In the library parking lot?

I stopped short, partially concerned about getting caught and partially out of feeling guilty about... my errant thought. Well, if Steven was waiting all day for a release, the same could be said for me. Game plan! I had stopped to make one rather than just winging it when I got home.

It didn't come quickly. My thoughts drifted to how this had started. On several occasions when making love, he had let me know that he wanted to lick his cum from me after he came. Whatever, right? I mean, it sounded kind of hot, maybe. It was an unexpected revelation, and he only mentioned it when he was hard and inside of me. But after each orgasm he had lost his nerve. I didn't think much about it. Our needs had been met. Or so I had thought.

He'd not said anything about it for several months, but then we'd gone to a country club to mingle with friends. We had been the first to arrive and found ourselves alone on a patio, our first drinks in hand. He put his arm around my shoulder, kissed the side of my head and said, "Let me say something and just listen. I love you, and this is hard. When we get home, I want to make love to you, and then I want you to sit on my face and make me eat my cum from you. I've fantasized about this a long time, and I can't make myself do it. If you ask me to, I'll just say 'no.' I want you to make me do it. I need you to. Promise me."

That was not what I would in any sense have guessed that he would have said given the setting. I was shocked. His face was red from embarrassment, and he broke eye contact. I could tell he wished he hadn't told me. But he had.

"Come here, hold my hands," I said. We placed our drinks on a railing, and I looked up into his eyes, at that face that I loved. "Okay. You've mentioned a number of times that you wanted to do that, but you've backed out of it. It didn't bother me that you wanted to do that, if you're wondering. It didn't bother me that you backed out either. But now I know it bothered you. You're not backing out tonight. You don't get a choice. I'm going to sit on your face, and you're going to clean up your mess until I say you're done. And yes, I promise."

The conversation didn't continue as our friends arrived to say hello. Perfect timing, really. I knew he was going to have an interesting evening thinking about what was going to happen. I surreptitiously licked my lips when he looked my way and others wouldn't notice, and I could see a bulge in his pants.