The Power of Imagination

I'm a bit tired. The day was so-so, the way home was exhausting, the same old crap on TV... and I sat down in the armchair and decided to zone out for five minutes, flip through the channels, maybe something interesting would be on.

Nothing interesting, just dumb TV series. Then the standard dinner, bed, and basically the long-awaited sleep. Although I didn't manage to drift off. My wife, of course, is beautiful and slim, but already "familiar," dressed in her usual nightgown, lay down next to me, took some book and, as usual before sleep, started reading for a short while. She was reading, but her left hand—which was not quite usual anymore—reached out to me and slowly began to caress my balls.

Understand

correctly—I love sex and would gladly do it every day, three times a day, but my wife, whom I of course love, has become a bit "stale" and with her—it's already some kind of routine, if not an "obligation." And she, although she moans beneath me... and above me, but somehow... in short, we don't feel that spark we had, I remember, even before the wedding, and after it, but it dissolved somewhere later and hasn't returned for a long time.

 — Are you asleep? — her fingers moved to my slightly risen cock and slowly went back and forth

 — Mhm — I replied. I really was already starting to sink into sleep and I didn't particularly want to.

Silence.

 — I went to the new store today, the one on the corner, prices are low for now. — her fingers returned to my balls again.

 — I'll drop by, take a look — with my eyes closed, I turned on my side and threw my right arm under her pillow, and spread my legs a bit so it would be more comfortable for her. My other hand automatically rested on my wife's belly—under the fabric of the nightgown, it felt very pleasant.

My wife seemed to continue reading something there, but her hand became clearly more active. My cock was already quite firm and her hand moved back to the shaft and three fingers worked on the head—damn, it feels good, not every day does my wife please me like this!

 — What are you reading?

 — Some lovey-dovey crap.

I'll show you some lovey-dovey crap now—I thought. I already wanted sex. And the belly under the nightgown, and that smooth curve from it to the leg, and most importantly this attention to my cock—how can you sleep with that! I dove my hand under the fabric, ran it along her body, and cupped her breast with my palm. My wife exhaled—yes, she wants it too.

She also turned on her side, with her back to me, and arched, presenting her ass. The book was already lying somewhere by her feet, and I was stroking my wife's body—over the fabric, under it, her ribs, then her soft breast, then her thigh with the firm buttock. Over the fabric, I must say, is nicer—the palm glides smoothly, passing over the nipple, rolling down to the waist, and swirling below the back. I inserted my cock into the already moist crotch.

I love it when my wife gets aroused even before my penetration. The shaft then enters smoothly, not feeling obstacles—it doesn't rub, it glides, her still-young labia don't catch on the dry cock, but as if draw it in themselves and further, deeper, deeper. You move it back and forth, and you feel like you're in oil, pure pleasure. I should, by the way, try covering my beauty in oil—all over, so it's slippery and soft everywhere!

My wife moans sweetly. She's not pretending (like some bitches), but is really enjoying it. And I give it to her with even more force. Harder. More! Cum, my love!! Deeper! To enter better, I lift her leg, holding it by the knee, I go in all the way to the base, my cock moves back and forth, passing its entire length over the sensitive zones of the vagina, from the head to the balls, my wife breathes loudly and deeply, she's already on the edge of orgasm.

But I'm not. That is, I feel good, of course. And in another hour, I'd probably cum. But I don't feel boundless pleasure. Mechanics, fuck... I slow down the pace.

 — Does it feel good? — The stupidest question during sex. I run my palm over her neck, higher over her cheekbone and temple, and bury my fingers in her hair

 — Very! — she exhales. She likes this, I know—when fingers get into her hair and move around the back of her head.

I move slowly inside her. Even though I haven't cum, it's still somehow sweet. My cock is warm, I feel good in general, I return my hand to the cheek of the satisfied girl. She's lying on her side, but with her head and partly her back, my wife is lying face up. With my finger, I gently trace her lips, then again over her slightly open mouth, outlining its enticing circle. Her lips are moist. They are full, like her aroused breast, visible from under the pulled-up nightgown. I look at them and penetrate inside with one finger. I feel her lips close around it—this barely perceptible, very gentle squeeze returns arousal to my body! The finger goes a couple of centimeters inside, then its tip caresses the plump lips—the upper one, then the lower one—and the lips yield to the finger, they follow it themselves, they embrace it themselves, they want to take it more and more, they want more, and now two fingers enter her mouth.

My wife lets out a sweet moan. She almost with a trembling hand takes my palm and starts sucking my two middle fingers. Sucking, there's no other word for it. She moves her head herself, she licks them with her lips, her eyes are closed, she moans softly each time the fingers go into the moist depth. My cock became harder than it was before, her little tongue plays on the tips of my fingers or between them, I speed up a little, this really gives me pleasure.

 — I like how you caress me! — I exhale breathlessly. My fingers feel the warm and gentlest movements of her soft lips.

 — Mmm — my wife moans, slightly speeding up the pace. At this moment, I'm not thinking. I only feel the heated flesh with my cock and fingers.

 — Do you like caressing me like this? — I suddenly ask for some reason, still on the exhale, with an excited whisper.

 — What are you imagining at this moment? — I blurted out for some reason, and at the same moment regretted such an idiotic question. My wife, with her eyes tightly shut, was impaling her passionate mouth on my fingers.

 — Uummmmmm — escaped from it. I gently removed my fingers and ran them around the circle of her lips. She followed the movement with an inhale.

 — What is this for you?

 — Mmm... it's a cock...

Something ran up my spine from my ass straight to my brain in a fraction of a second. I sped up. Arousal increased many times over. Because I knew this answer. I was waiting for it. There couldn't have been another one, really. But when a quiet, obedient wife tells you directly that right now, during sex, she imagines a cock in her mouth, the sensations become unpredictable.

 — Is it mine?... — letting out a strong, accidental exhale on the "o," I asked after a few seconds. My wife opened her serpentine eyes again.

 — Mmmmm... — she slowly moved my fingers back and forth over her lower lip — If you want, it can be yours... — my wife replied in an unexpectedly low, but tender voice.

 — Oh, you bitch! — I was already fucking her at maximum speed.

 — Yes! — was all I heard. I came inside her. I came for several seconds, continuing to move my entire cock over the sensitive zones of her vagina, from the head to the balls...

I, by the way, do love my wife. She loves me too, by the way.