69

(Throwaway account for obvious reasons)

It happened this week. On one of those days that were perfect for some fun. Our son was asleep, the day's schedule was clear, so we had a moment to enjoy ourselves; after all, when you have a child, your sex life revolves around seizing the opportunities that arise when they go to sleep.

I was incredibly horny—as usual.

We were naked, caught up in the rhythm of foreplay. My hands and mouth had explored every inch of the hot woman I’m married to, and now I wanted more. Lying down, I pulled her on top of me.

"What are you up to?" she asked, feigning innocence. It was a shared kind of innocence—one that, in a way I can't quite explain, is part of our bedroom game: one person takes the lead, while the other pretends not to know what’s coming next.

She knew what I wanted.

A good 69 session.

At our place, the 69 is part of the routine. It’s not the standard "rice and beans," but rather that special potato-topped casserole—the kind that’s a treat to taste precisely because it *isn't* the everyday staple. And since a special dish requires special preparation, we’ve developed a whole routine for it, starting with the positioning: most of the time, she lies on top of me, just like today.

Another part of the routine is that we never rush straight to the main event; I take the first 15 seconds to admire the natural spectacle of my wife’s pussy and asshole slowly drawing closer, both of them winking at me like accomplices or old friends. A stray hair might appear here and there, but that just adds to the show—along with the scent of her pussy filling my nose. I need those 15 seconds to admire her as she gets into position because, if I’m not careful, I’ll cum almost immediately just from appreciating what is truly the eighth wonder of the world. Yes, that has happened before. In my defense, time has passed, but my wife is my weakness.

In a twist on chivalry, I began the process. My tongue traced every inch of that marvelous slit, sucking, kissing, and lapping. I kissed her labia—an even more intimate version of our usual kiss. I danced enthusiastically over her clitoris—that tiny spot that starts out shy, tucked away in the soft folds she’s developed over time, but emerges quickly at my touch. I heard my wife moan in approval—the best feedback possible. Almost immediately, I felt her mouth envelop my cock; the way she goes down on me is a spectacle. Years of intimacy have taught us to get straight to the point and do exactly what the other person loves.

Another special thing about the way we do 69 is that it easily turns into a delicious competition to see who can make the other lose their composure. The fun part? Soaking up the pleasure while staying focused enough to keep the game going. I started to feel that familiar pulse signaling I was about to cum, but I managed to hold it together this time. I opened my eyes and saw my wife grinding enthusiastically, signaling that her own climax was near. Her little asshole was puckering invitingly, so I decided to slip a finger in to finish the job.

And just like that, it happened.

My wife paused what she was doing to climax, right as I hit the point of no return. Some might call that a "ruined orgasm," but that wasn't the case for us. As my cum shot out in jets, she moaned. My face was slick with her juices, and the scent of her pussy filled my senses even more intensely. We came together—and it was perfect.

I know some people will say the 69 isn't all that, or complain that it requires multitasking. But... I just can't agree. The 69 is just too damn good.