With that, Sharon threw up my graduation gown to undo my belt and pants. In little to no time, Sharon was beneath my gown, suckling on my cock. My 38-year-old fiancé consumed me whole, right where I stood. I was unable to do much of anything except endure her agonizingly rich blowjob. It all happened so fast, and I stood there, propped up against a brick wall as Sharon begun to bless me with her dazzling, meticulous tongue dance. I wanted to make her stop because this was my graduation, but then again… why?
I wanted nothing more than to watch my fiancé feast on me, but had to settle for focusing on the sounds and feelings, which were just as exhilarating. I heard some people making their way to us as I wanted to stop, but Sharon chained her hands on the back of my thighs to stop me. She knew as I did that both of us were not going anywhere until I came.
Period.
The approaching people thankfully went in another direction as I peacefully thanked the Gods of passion for letting this cherished blowjob endure. She knew exactly what tricks it took to draw out my seed… how to thrash her tongue sideways, or to coax me with a slow gentle pace. I loved to watch her as I came too, for she would always let a few streams of my semen trickle down my glossy shaft before gobbling them back up. But this time, I would have to imagine that happening as my blowjob soon took its inherent turn towards this side of paradise.
Giving in, I huffed and panted like a decathlon champion… huffing “Sharon, Sharon” over and over as she cajoled my living essence from the deepest recesses of my testicles.
I came, clamping my eyes and spewing out my cumm. It had been a couple of days since we had made love, so there was plenty for my wife to be to consume. And yes, I still found it hard to believe that I had a woman who swallowed my sperm. It was agonizingly beautiful what Sharon was able to do to me with such simple efforts.
Later that summer…
The news of my upcoming marriage to Sharon left my family in a muddle, let alone the fact that she was carrying my unborn child. It sadly divided us even further as I moved in with Sharon in her downtown condo. My belongings stayed in their boxes as we had already planned to move south to Florida, where we knew there would be a fresh start and no small town whispers behind our backs. I was to enroll at the University of Central Florida, and Sharon was to take a job with a marketing firm in Orlando.
I married Sharon in July at an amazing sunset service at Ft. Desoto beach. It was just us and the minister, but that was all that really mattered. I had asked the minister if we could re-word our vows so we could refer to the other as mother and son. I was somewhat bashful about it at first, but once he saw our birth certificates, and knew we weren’t related, he agreed. It was an amazingly romantic setting, one of the purest, most profound moments in all my life. Sharon stood before me, dressed in a satin mini dress, showing off those luscious bare shoulders and caramel thighs and legs. She knew I loved looking at her best assets, and gladly showed them off to her (now) husband. With the setting sun highlighting her full body, and protruding belly, I let it all soak in…