A Moment in Time

Things have been going pretty well these last couple of weeks. DH and I are coexisting well, even if we are not exactly connecting on an existential level. But there are more ways to connect than one, and as anyone who has read my blog for any amount of time knows, my answer to almost any marital issue is sex.

Being male, DH isn't opposed to this method - especially when I take matters into my own hands. He minds even less when I take him into my mouth.

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A couple of days ago, DH and I spent several hours doing yard work. We trimmed, pruned, weeded, planted and mulched until we were both streaked with dirt and covered in sweat. We had dinner plans with friends set for that evening, so when we were finished, I sent DH in to shower first while I put away the tools and straightened up the patio. A few minutes later, I went in to clean up, myself.

I was in our walk-in closet, picking the clothes I would wear after my shower, when DH finished his. He walked up to his dresser to get a pair of boxers, and the scent of his soap instantly filled the small space. Despite having quickly wiped off with the towel that was now wrapped around his waist, his skin was still damp and slightly glistening. As I watched him retrieve his clothing from a drawer, a drip of water escaped from his hair and started running down the indentation of his spine until it disappeared into the towel.

I stared transfixed for a short second, but as another drip started to form, I new I had to catch it. Without giving DH any warning, I came up behind him and pulled away the towel. Holding his hips to keep him from turning, my tongue found the base of his spine and I began to lick my way up his back, catching the errant drips and savoring the flavor of freshly clean husband.

As I reached his upper back, I stretched onto my tiptoes pulled him back slightly against me so that I could kiss his neck. After only a moment, DH shivered from the chills I was giving him and turned around to take me into his arm. He kissed me lightly, then looked down at me and chuckled. "Ugh, you're still filthy. Now, I'm going to have to rinse off again."

I pulled back slightly, so that I could look into his eyes, raised one eyebrow at him and said, "Sorry," in a tone that was anything but.

He rolled his eyes at me, kissed the tip of my nose, and started to pull away to grab his clothes. I didn't even realize I was going to do it, but as soon as he let me go, I dropped to my knees. Before he had time to turn away, I took him into my mouth.

He actually stumbled slightly, the surprise of my actions momentarily stealing his balance. He steadied himself quickly with a hand on my head, and as my lips found their way to the very base of his soft cock, his fingers curled slightly to grip my hair.

We moaned almost in unison. He from the feeling of my tongue swirling on his most sensitive skin. Me from the sensation of dominance exuded by his action.

Almost too quickly, his cock began to swell, thickening and lengthening to the point that it was impossible for me to keep him completely in my mouth, and lightly triggering my gag reflex when I would try.

The clean taste of his skin was almost irresistible, and I found myself devouring him voraciously. I couldn't seem to get enough of him in my mouth. Lips, tongue and teeth were all working in unison to elicit more of those low moans.

In a matter of minutes, I could hear the change in DH's breathing. The muscles in his legs were tensing almost rhythmically, and the gentle hand in my hair was becoming a tight fist. I quickened my tempo, using my entire body to bob against his cock.

Moments later, I could feel the telltale twitching of cock against the roof of my mouth. A louder grunt escaped from DH's lips, and his warm fluid started shooting into my mouth. There, on the floor of my closet, I knelt. Swallowing everything he had to give me, and then using my lips to milk every last drop from his cock.

When I was sure he had nothing left to give me, I rose to my feet, gently raking my nails up his legs, across his abdomen and up to his chest. I kissed him slowly, sharing the taste of his orgasm as our tongues danced together.

Then, without warning I turned and walked away to take my shower. Throughout our evening with friends, my smug smile never left my lips. And every time I caught DH's eye, his expression reflected mine.

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No, things aren't perfect, and one blow job is not capable of fixing a year's worth of problems, but I'm learning not to spoil good moments by worrying constantly about the overall picture. And that was a good moment.

Who knows, maybe my 'fix it with sex' theory has some validity after all. Maybe.