“Enough, you harlots!” my wife cried out, giggling at watching me get inundated under about 240 lbs of best friend flesh. “Back off and get your own. This one’s mine.” She emphasized it by planting her lips firmly on my cock, while her friends backed off just far enough to be out of the way.
Sheri loved oral. It’s one of the things that brought us together. She just loved to give head, and, surprise, surprise, I loved getting it. I’d never met anyone like her. When we first started living together, we’d hang out naked around the apartment, and out of the blue, she’d go down on me for a while, get me hard, and leave me hanging, just to attack me again an hour later. I’d come for her several times a day. While watching TV, a commercial was an excuse for 3 minutes of oral sex. A boring show might be enough time to actually get off. And public blow-jobs were part of the game as well. I would often try to move her blow-jobs towards normal sex, but rarely was I successful. Our sex was great, don’t get me wrong, but 3 or 4 times a week was about as often as we did it, while I probably felt her lips on my cock at least twice a day. On occasion she’d get in the mood for a marathon, and I’d spend half the day with my cock between her lips.
I never got tired of watching her suck me, or just leaning back and letting her have her way.
She loved the fact, and made no bones about it, that I had pretty extraordinary recovery capability. Like a teenager, I could come and be ready to go again in 5 minutes, quite often never even going soft after finishing. I believe it was this added benefit that finally won her over for good. She was a beautiful, sexy woman, and I was always amazed that she had gone for me.
Sheri happily gave a quick demonstration of her magical mouth, while her friends openly watched. I thought I’d be able to last a while, after my recent finish between Jill’s generous lips, but once more, the view, the situation, and my wife’s extensive experience, particularly where it concerns me, had me blowing after an embarrassingly short time.
After wiping her lips, in an exaggerated gesture, Sheri did provide a little encouragement. “God that was a quick one. Must be the audience. I wish I’d known that was the secret to pulling your trigger; it might have saved me hours and hours of time spent with rug burn knees and a sore jaw.” She giggled. “OK, sweetie, enjoy lunch, I’m going to go see if the other boys might need a suntan lotion refresh. Care to join me Jill?”
Jill seemed a bit reluctant, but she eventually left Robin and I alone, except for a thick sandwich. I took a huge bite.
“Give me that,” Robin said, pushing the table away from me, and taking the sandwich from my hand and straddling my lap. “You must be worn out, and your arms exhausted from all that work. Let me help you.” She fed me a bit of sandwich, and then wiped my lips clean. Her crotch pressed against mine, her tits pressed against my upper chest. She caressed my face with her lips, while I chewed.