I was busy getting out the door this morning, so I didn’t have time to make myself lunch. I figured I’d just have to grab some lunch out. As I was leaving for lunch, my wife called and said she had prepared some lunch, and would I like to come home to eat. I live close to my workplace, so I figured, why not.
As I was finishing eating, she asks. How would you like a blowjob before you go back to work? Talk about music to my ears.
I told her I was really in the mood for anal. I don’t remember exactly how the conversation unfolded, but she said “Why would I want to deal with the pain of anal sex?” Not an uncommon sentiment for many, but I had to remind her, “You enjoy anal sex, and you have commented how extra strong your orgasms are. What are you talking about?” She agrees that she does enjoy it, but there is something that makes her reluctant—and that is called a Judeo-Christian upbringing. (As if I don’t have enough issues with that cult.) She has to be in the mood.
In any case, anal sex was off the menu, and I took her up on her generous blowjob offer. We made our way to the bedroom where I pulled off my pants and got comfortable at the edge of the bed. She remained clothed and knelt at the edge of the bed. As is her manner, she worked my cock up with her hand before going down.
DING DONG! The doorbell rings. We had been awaiting a package the required a signature. Blowjobus Interruptus. As she is dressed, she gets up and signs for the package. It was a gift, and the sender asked for a call when it arrived. I couldn’t convince her to call after I was finished, and so she called—and she connected, and they talked, and they talked, and they talked, and I left to return to work—to write this. I guess I’ll take a rain check for this evening.