I was finishing up my second glass of Crown Royal (Special Harvest) and the second period of the game was just underway. Hockey playoffs are coming, and as a big fan, I watch a lot of games when I have the chance.

We had enjoyed pizza for dinner, with a salad on the side, and the game had started just as we finished eating. I put it on in the living room, poured a glass of whisky, and plopped down on the couch. My son cleaned up the dishes while my wife relaxed, sipping her second glass of wine and reading her latest romance novel.

Towards the end of the first period my son announced he was going out for a while to meet a few friends for a beer at the local brew house, and we told him to have fun, my wife adding not to hurry back. (Now, after being together for 35 years, you would think I would have caught a whiff that something was up, but I wasn't paying attention).

The annoying announcers did their bit during intermission, and I changed into my comfy sweatpants before refilling my glass for the next period. My wife followed me to the bedroom, stepping into the ensuite bath while I changed, saying something from behind the closed door that I couldn't make out. (For some reason she thinks I can hear every word she speaks from anywhere in the house).

I returned to the couch, settled into the game, and sipped my tasty whiskey while my team struggled to score. A few curse words at the television seemed to do the trick, and they put two in the net minutes later. Satisfied with my motivational speech, I sat back and sipped. My ears picked up a click click click coming down the hallway, pulling my attention away from the screen, and it continued while she strolled through the kitchen and ended at the dining room table. I turned to see what the noise was and watched her drain her wine glass, standing by the table in just her hockey jersey and high heels.

"Mind if I watch the game with you?" she asked, placing the glass on the table.

My wife is tall, a touch over five feet and eleven inches (180 cm. for my metric companions), a buxom, long-legged beauty with normally brunette hair, recently colored auburn red (for those that know, picture a mix of Kay Parker and Christy Canyon, or a tall Adrienne Barbeau ) and a bright smile. When she puts on her four-inch heels her legs are a mile long and her demeanor not, shall we say, demure.

"Of course," I replied, patting the couch cushion next to me.

She smirked and walked in front of the television, blocking my view of the game to get my full attention, standing with her hands on her hips and the tops of her smooth thighs glistening with freshly-applied lotion. I grabbed the remote, aimed between her legs, and turned the game off, showing her I understood.

I perched on the edge of the cushion, hands on my knees, expecting to get a little show. Instead, she lifted the jersey just above her freshly-trimmed (and also now auburn) triangle of love fuzz, purposefully stepped closer, and straddled my knees. She pushed her pelvis forward, butting her shiny cleft against my nose, and pulled my face in.

"You know what to do," she cooed.

I dove in with both lips and my tongue, giving her a good licking. She put one foot up on the couch and ground into me, moaning and mumbling (I think the name she used was a character in the book she was reading, but I didn't care at this point), and she mushed my nose into her wetness tightly when the orgasm came. Her one leg shuddered as she kept her balance, managing to stay upright while she climaxed, and let out a deep sigh once it passed. She put her leg down, pat me on the head, and smiled.

"That's a good boy," she purred. "Now get those sweats off."

I yanked them off and tossed them aside (still haven't found them, must be under the couch), and sat back with my hardened rod sticking up high and waving. Now, usually, she loves foreplay - kissing, nibbling, touching, and a slow build - but not tonight. Without a word she turned around, hiked the jersey to her waist, and sat down, enveloping most of my shaft in one fell swoop.

"Oh, yes," she moaned. "I'm going to ride you until I pass out."

She moved up and down, jamming her ass into my lap and fucking my fat pole like she was riding a bucking steer to beat the eight-second mark. I reached around and slipped my hands under the jersey, grabbed two big handfuls of heavy, swinging tits, and held on. The first orgasm hit her quickly, making her slow down for a minute, and she let out a "whoo hoo" when it ended.

Now, after all these years I know how and when to move, thrust, and parry, and she knows how and when to wiggle, jiggle, or writhe in order to hit her sweet spot. Her hips moved front to back and side to side while she ground into me, massaging her insides with my swollen pole, and she put her hands on my knees while I played with her nipples and cupped her heavenly pillows.

She began to shudder and her fingers dug in like the talons of an eagle when the orgasm began, and she was growling like a rutting wildebeest as it crested, thrashing back and forth. I waited, knowing she wasn’t done yet, and thrust my hips up.

The second orgasm was intense, and she scrunched up her torso. Her bone-crushing grip on my knees kept me from popping my cork, and the thought of having to clean the couch due to the amount of wetness crossed my mind. I pinched her puffy nipples and admired her quivering bum cheeks while she groaned, breathing a sigh of relief when the talons retracted.

When she stopped quivering I pushed into her, thrusting my hips upward. She turned her head and looked at me over her shoulder.

“Don’t!”

I paused, wondering if I was hurting her. She slipped off of me and stood up, quickly turning around and dropping to her knees between my legs. She dove onto my throbbing pole, her pouty lipstick-covered lips engulfing half in one swift motion. She sucked vigorously, like a starving calf on a teat, bringing me to full boil. Now, she loves giving me head and I love getting it, especially when it’s unexpected and I can grab handfuls of hair.

She knows exactly where to put her tongue and when to purse her lips tightly, and she did just that, locking them just below my swollen tip when the dam burst. A river of cum flooded her mouth and poured down her throat, my thick shaft pulsing with each pump, and she took every drop until the well ran dry.

She pulled her mouth off and swallowed, then returned to suckling the still-throbbing slab of meat until it softened. Without a word she got up from her knees and stood up, towering over me in her heels, and leaned down with her hands on my shoulders. Her mouth touched mine for a moment before her cum-covered tongue snaked around my tonsils ( yeah, I still have them ) and when she pulled away, she just giggled and smiled.

“Such a good boy, you are,” she praised, patting my head. “Now, you watch your game, I have another chapter to read before heading to bed.”

She went click click click to the bedroom, leaving me to recover from the torrid encounter. I drained my whiskey glass and sat back on the couch, turning the game on to find it over and the highlights playing.

She reappeared, wearing pj bottoms and a t-shirt, with her hair in a bun and a freshly-scrubbed face.

“Thanks for turning the game off,” she smirked, sitting in her recliner and picking up the book.

“I’ll take you over a game any day,” I assured her. “That was fun.”

She put on her red-rimmed glasses (they make her look so fucking hot!) and began reading. I sat back and relaxed, just watching her read, and she peered at me over the top of the book. Her beautiful eyes shimmered through those somehow-sexy glasses.

“You should put your sweats back on, someone just came in the back door.”

I jumped up and scrambled to find my sweatpants, unable to do so before my son passed by on his way to the kitchen, and he gave me a side-eyed smirk. My wife stifled a laugh and I trudged to the bedroom, pulling on my boxers before returning to the couch. My son disappeared into the rent-free apartment of the basement, giving me another smirk before leaving the room. I shrugged and sat on the couch.

“How much of that book are you going to read tonight?” I questioned.

It's not often that a novel gets her heated up, so I assumed it was a very steamy story.

“Just enough to get me ready for bed.”

I scrolled through my phone and waited, finally seeing her close the book and place it on the coffee table. She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, giving me the chance to watch her big, heavenly boobs sway and jiggle under the shirt. She smiled and tipped her glasses, keeping them on as she strolled to the bedroom. I jumped up to follow.

“Turn off the TV,” she called out. “And make sure the doors are locked!”

Sometimes I don’t mind being told what to do.

*note: I was delayed in publishing this story due to my wife wanting my attention after reading it, so yes, it is wife-approved.