Wife's Latex Face Dildo Ride and Squirting Fantasy

Elise had kept the fantasy sealed behind her teeth for years, a heat she fed in the dark after Terrence fell asleep, fingers slow between her thighs and her mind nowhere near their ordinary nights. She was thirty-two. He was thirty-four. Six years of marriage had taught her he could be trusted with her body, her money, her worst days. She had not trusted him, until this Thursday, with the thing that made her soak the sheets when she was alone.

The bedroom lamp threw a low amber pool across the bed. She sat on the edge in a thin cotton robe and told him all of it without breaking for air: the face dildo strapped over his mouth, him flat on his back, her dressing in latex while she sucked him and edged him until he shook, then mounting his face and riding until cream covered him, then taking the same thick shaft in her ass, then the squirt she had never given anyone, aimed straight down at his waiting face.

Terrence did not laugh. He did not flinch. His hand found her knee, warm and steady, and his cock thickened against the front of his pants.

“I want that,” he said. “Exactly that. Tonight, if you’ll let me.”

She had bought the pieces over months and hidden them in a locked box at the back of the closet. Now she laid them out where he could see: shiny black latex thigh-high boots with a mirror gloss, opera-length latex gloves the color of wet ink, and the harness with its heavy flesh-toned dildo, veined and obscene in the lamplight. The base was wide. The shaft would fill her. The straps would hold it to his face so he could only breathe through his nose and make the muffled sounds she already craved.

“Strip.”

He did, without hurry and without shame. Shirt. Pants. Boxers last. At thirty-four he was solid through the chest and softer at the waist, a man who worked a desk and still walked home when the weather held, and his cock rose flushed and eager, a clear bead at the slit. Elise’s mouth watered. She did not touch him yet.

She fitted the harness herself. Straps went under his jaw and around the back of his skull, buckled snug, and the thick dildo jutted from his mouth like a second cock he would wear while she used him. He tested a breath. His eyes stayed on hers, bright and willing. She pressed two fingers to his chest and guided him down until he lay flat, arms loose at his sides, the toy angled toward the ceiling, his real cock heavy against his stomach.

Elise stood. The robe slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. Naked, she felt the air find every place she was already wet. Her breasts rose on a shaky inhale. Her nipples drew tight. Between her thighs her pussy glistened, lips swollen, a thin strand of arousal catching the light when she shifted her weight. She looked down the length of her husband: the trust in his face, the ridiculous beautiful bulk of the dildo, the pulse she could almost see in his cock.

“Stay just like that,” she said. “Hands off. Tonight I dress slow, and I take you apart slow, and you do not come until I decide.”

Terrence nodded. The dildo nodded with him. The room drew tight enough to sing.

She reached for a boot first and did not rush the slide. Cool latex kissed her toes, then her arch, then the swell of her calf. She worked it up in small patient tugs, the shine deepening wherever her palms smoothed it, until the top band hugged high on her thigh and the whole leg gleamed like poured oil. Terrence watched from the bed, chest rising faster, the toy over his mouth twitching when he swallowed.

Elise climbed onto the mattress and swung one booted leg across his hips, not sitting, only hovering, the glossy black shaft of her calf brushing his ribs. She bent. Her hair fell around his stomach. She exhaled over the head of his cock and watched it jump, then opened her mouth and took him in slow, just the crown, tongue circling the slit where that first bead had gathered. Salt. Heat. The low sound he made around the dildo went straight to her clit.

She sucked him with the same patience she had used on the boot. Down an inch.