My Huge Cock Worshipping Wife

I had always thought Naomi and I lived an ordinary married life. I was twenty-eight, she was twenty-six, and our apartment was the usual mix of work bags by the door, leftover takeout in the fridge, and quiet evenings on the couch. I knew I was big. Eleven inches, thick enough that her hand never quite closed around me, and she had always gone quiet when I undressed. I had assumed that quiet was modesty. I was wrong. For three years of marriage I had taken her quiet for sweetness.

Thursday night. Lamps low. Naomi sat with her knees drawn up in one of my old T-shirts and plain cotton panties, twisting the hem, refusing to meet my eyes. The blush was still there. Underneath it she looked starved.

"Lorenzo," she said, voice small. "I've been secretly reading stories. Dirty ones, about wives who worship their husbands' huge cocks. I can't stop. I think about your cock all day. How long it is. How heavy it feels on my tongue. How it stretches me until I can't think. I don't just want sex. I want to worship it exactly the way those women do. On my knees. Kissing every inch. Please. Let me."

The air changed. My cock stirred, thickening at the shy filthy confession. I looked at my once-modest wife and the truth landed hard. She was not shy. She was obsessed. I realized I was married to a huge-cock worshipper who had been hiding it, and now she was begging to serve and adore every inch of me. The tension between us went thick enough to touch.

"Every night," she whispered when I asked. "I touch myself thinking about yours. I measured it once while you showered. Eleven inches. I can't get it out of my head. I need to worship it. I need you to let me."

I stood. Her gaze dropped to the bulge straining my pants, and she made a small hungry sound that went straight to my balls.

Naomi dropped to her knees on the living-room rug before I touched my belt. Her eyes went wide with lust, locked on my crotch. I unbuckled slowly. When I freed myself, my cock swung out heavy and swelling, already longer than her face, the head glossy, veins lifting as it hardened in the warm air. The room felt smaller with her kneeling under it.

"Oh my God. Look at how huge you are."

She wrapped both hands around me and still could not cover the length. She stroked from the root upward, slow and reverent, then pressed her lips to the underside and kissed the thick vein like she was grateful for it. She kissed another vein, then the place where the shaft met my body, soft and grateful, like each inch deserved its own thanks.

"I love your cock," she said, voice shaking. "I love how massive it is. I love that my hands can't hold it. I love that it hangs down your thigh soft and turns into this monster when it's hard for me. Please let me lick it. Please let me kiss every inch. I've been dying to worship this huge cock. Proper wife on the outside, desperate cock-crazy slut on the inside. Let me be what I am. I'll do anything you want. I'll kiss it until my lips are sore."

Her tongue dragged from my balls to the flared head. She kissed the slit, tasted the bead of precum with a broken moan, then the ridge, then the shaft, murmuring between every kiss. "So big. So thick. Heavier than anything in those stories. This is my husband's enormous cock and I get to adore it. I get to smell it. I get to feel how hot it is on my lips."

She stroked faster, spit shining on her fingers, eyes glassy. Drool gathered at her mouth and she left it there.

"Command me," she begged. "Tell me to worship it properly. I need to hear you say I'm your huge-cock worshipping wife. I'll stay on my knees all night. I'll gag on it. I'll thank you for every inch. Don't make me stop. I need this cock until you believe how obsessed I am."

Her craving shoved my patience aside. I fisted a hand in her hair and tilted her face up to the full towering length, eleven inches glistening above her open mouth.

"Then worship me properly," I said. "Like the cock-crazy wife you truly are. Every inch. Out loud. Don't hold back."

She shuddered. "Yes. I'll worship it. Thank you."

What followed did not feel like a blowjob. It felt like devotion, and it went on for more than an hour.

Naomi stayed on her knees and treated my cock like the only thing that mattered. The hour stretched. She learned the weight of me, the way the head flared against her tongue, the salt of precum, the pulse in the big vein under her lips. She worshipped with her whole mouth and both hands and never once looked bored. She kissed the head until it shone, opened her mouth, and took me in, jaw stretching around the thick crown. She got maybe half before her throat closed. She did not retreat. She moaned, sloppy and eager, and pushed again. Spit flooded her tongue and spilled down the shaft in shining ropes. She gagged, eyes watering, and pulled back only far enough to gasp, "It's so big, Lorenzo, so much bigger than my throat, I love how it won't fit, let me try again," before sinking down once more.

I held her hair and fucked her throat the way she was begging me to, slow, then deeper, feeding her inch after inch while she slobbered and choked and looked up at me like I was giving her a gift. Each time the head bumped the back of her throat she made a wet grateful sound. Strings of spit connected her lips to my cock when I drew back. She kissed the mess, licking it off the shaft, stroking what she could not swallow.

"Nothing else compares," she panted. "Not the toys. Not the stories. Your cock is bigger and better than anything. I'm your personal huge-cock worshipping slut. Let me say it while you use my throat."

"You are," I told her, and thrust until her nose pressed as close as her gagging allowed. She took it. She wanted it. Her hands caressed my thighs, my balls, the base she could not fit, constantly touching, constantly praising. "So thick. So long. I can feel every vein on my tongue. Thank you for letting me choke on this huge cock."

When her chin was soaked I pulled her up and bent her over the arm of the couch. Her panties were ruined. I dragged them down and left them at one ankle. She reached back at once, not for my hand but for my cock, wrapping her fingers around the spit-slick shaft and guiding the heavy head to her soaked pussy.

"Please put this huge cock in me. I need to feel how much bigger it is. Worship it with my pussy. Use me."

I pushed in. She cried out, stretch and joy, and stroked the inches that had not yet disappeared. Her soaked pussy clutched every inch, and she kept one palm on my cock like she was afraid it might vanish if she stopped touching it. "It's so big, you're splitting me open and I love it, I love your massive dick, don't stop."

I railed her there, the couch creaking, every thrust pulling more praise. She kissed my wrist, my forearm, anything she could reach, while her other hand caressed the thick root pounding into her. "Your cock owns me. I'm your personal huge-cock worshipping slut. It's so deep. Nothing has ever filled me like this. Nothing ever will."

I flipped her onto her back and folded her legs up. She stared down, mesmerized, watching the enormous shaft sink into her over and over, fingers spreading herself so she could see it. She kissed her fingertips and touched them to the glistening length each time I drew back. "Look how huge it is going into me. I'm the luckiest wife alive. I just want to worship it forever."

When she was shaking and begging for more of me anywhere, I turned her onto her knees and pressed a wet thumb to her ass. She pushed back at once.

"Yes. There too. I want that huge cock in my ass. I want to worship it with every hole. Stretch me open. I'll thank you the whole time."

I worked her open while she kept talking, filthy and adoring, twisting to kiss the head whenever I brought it to her mouth. When I pressed the broad crown to her ass she bore down and took it, sobbing praise as inch after thick inch forced her open. "So big, so much bigger than I dreamed, your cock is perfect, I'm your cock-crazy slut, let me feel all eleven, I love this huge cock."

I fucked her ass in long claiming strokes and guided her fingers back so she could caress the shaft as it slid in and out. She did, reverently, moaning that she was my personal huge-cock worshipping slut and would never be anything else. I pulled her upright against my chest so she could stroke the base while I stayed buried deep, then bent her over again and took her harder. She never stopped praising me, never stopped kissing my wrist, my thumb, the head when I withdrew to the tip and let her mouth it before pushing back into her ass.

I came down her throat first. I pulled out of her ass, turned her, and she opened for me, both hands stroking the soaked enormous length, tongue out. I pushed in as far as she could take me and spilled thick and hot while she swallowed and tried to thank me around my cock. I dragged free for the next pulse and painted her face, heavy stripes over her lips and cheek, and she chased the head with kisses. "Yes. Cover me. I want to wear it."

I was still hard. She guided me back to her ass, kissing the shaft as she lined me up, and I sank in and fucked her until I buried myself and pumped a second thick load deep inside her while she clenched and babbled. "Fill my ass. Your cock is still so huge. I love this massive dick."

When I eased out she did not collapse on the couch. She curled at my feet, took my spent but still enormous cock in both gentle hands, and licked it clean, kissing the head, the shaft, whispering thanks.

"Thank you for letting me fully worship my husband's massive dick. I'm your huge-cock worshipping slut. This is what we are now."

She smiled against the head, already scheming. "Tomorrow morning, before your shower, sit on the bed and let me wake this cock with my mouth until you're hard enough to bend me over the counter. I won't wait to be asked."