Tails.

We both stepped back, childish grins on our faces. I felt a perverse pleasure in knowing that I'd won the coin toss, even though I knew it was just sheer luck, no skill involved. Still, having us play out my fantasy first made the thrill of our imminent sexual adventures even stronger.

James' eyes dropped to the sleeping mask and he inclined his head slightly. "No reason to delay, I guess. Why don't you slip that on and we can get started?"

A wicked smile creased my lips as I raised an arched eyebrow. I spun the mask around my forefinger, the strap bending slightly with the centrifugal ****. In my sweetest voice, I replied, "Oh, honey, why do you think that this is for me?" My husband's eye froze wide open and I laughed, tossing the mask to him. With a delayed reaction time, he barely caught it before it fell to the floor.

Then he looked back at me, saw my excitement plain on my face and he immediately relaxed, understanding that this was all part of the fun. With a quiet shrug, he lifted the mask over his head and, after a minor adjustment, settled it completely over his eyes. I tested it by waving my hands under his nose and got no reaction at all.

I was already horny, but as I walked slow circles examining his body with a freedom a bit heady, I could feel my nipples harden and rub against the rough fabric of my nightgown. I've mentioned before how sensitive my large breasts are and their constant swaying as I moved was beginning to drive me crazy. Plus, my husband was still in great shape. He had graduated from his original gig at the feed and seed store, becoming a manager of a couple of different sites, but he still got his hands dirty with the heavy materials sold by his company. His chest had a light layer of manly hair across it, a soft downy coat that I ran my fingers through as I circled him like a shark. His arms and legs were sturdy examples of finely-muscled limbs and his manhood was straining mightily beneath his boxers.

I brushed my hand against his erection, barely touching it at all and he almost jumped a country mile, groaning insistently, begging for more contact. I felt another thrill, this time realizing the control I had over him in this moment. And a dirty thought entered my mind.

There's no reason why we can't both get what we want, is there?

I moved behind my husband, pressing my swollen tits against his back and reached around his body until I could press my hand against his hard dick. I slipped my hand beneath his shorts, finding his pole easily and wrapped my soft fingers around its circumference. Leaning close to his ear, I moaned, "I love your cock so much. It's so big and thick, I can barely hold it with both my hands."

I felt a bit awkward at first, using dirty talk like this. In the past, we'd used such words in the heat of the moment, when our passions had already been enflamed, a careless 'fuck me!' or an urgent 'get that dick inside me!' This was different. This time I was using it to insight his excitement rather than using dirty talk because of it.

And despite my awkwardness, it seemed to work. I could feel his dick pulse beneath my hand as I talked. I tugged down his boxers, leaving him completely naked and his cock waving in the air. As I continued, the discomfort began to disappear and I really got into the act. "And it tastes soooo good. Remember when I woke you up last week by sucking you off? I couldn't get enough of your dick and it was so thick I could barely fit any of it in my mouth. I could taste my pussy on your dick too and I felt so dirty, because I loved how well our flavors mixed together. Your semen and my cunt, the perfect combination. That why I had to suck you dry, why I drank every drop of jizz you shot down my throat. I needed to have more, I needed your cum because I felt like a slut and that's exactly what a slut needs."

That last line popped out without any conscious thought. In the heat of the moment, it didn't strike me as much more than a line in our sex play, but as the weeks and months would move forward, it would become an obvious confession of something hidden deep inside me.

I could feel and see the familiar signs appearing. The tic in his cheek, the jerkiness of his knees, the throbbing in his prick. My husband was about to orgasm, but I didn't want that yet.

I pulled away, ceasing all contact with his body. He groaned loudly but didn't speak, waiting for me to make my next move. With gentle pushes to his butt, I guided him over to our marital bed and spun him around. With a tap of his shoulders, I pushed him down until he was sitting on the edge, his big dick pointing straight at the ceiling, longer and harder than I ever remember it being.

I pulled down the straps of my nightgown, tugged it past my straining melons and let it slip to the floor, joining James in his nakedness. The coolness of the room felt fantastic and I allowed a small sigh to escape my lips.

I moved between my husband's legs and leaned forward, placing one of my rosy pink nipples against his lips. Instinctually, he opened his mouth and sucked me in, trying to get as much of my bouyant flesh past his lips as possible. It felt like pure electricity pouring through my body.

"Oh God, yes! You've always liked my titties haven't you?" A silent nod as James continued to devour my boobies. "Nibbling on my nipples, burying your face between, sucking on their curves. You know it drives me wild!" I switched tits to give him the pleasure of feasting on the other one. "But did you know that every time I shop for a new top, the first question I ask myself is 'Would James like my breasts in this?' I wonder if they show enough cleavage, will you be able to see my nipples when they get hard, do they flaunt how big and round my juggs are? All for your enjoyment."

That last bit was 100% true. I consider my well-developed rack to be one of my best features and I know my husband agrees. So I'm always self-aware when picking out outfits that accentuate my curves to their fullest.

"But you know that's not all my breasts are good for," I said seductively. I pulled my boob from his mouth--a more difficult proposition than you may think because James had created quite the suction on my silky skin--and dropped to my knees, silently thanking James for installing carpet in our bedroom. James knew what was coming, his entire body trembling in anticipation. So I waited, letting the tension build. And then I waited a bit more. And then I finally said, "Do you want to fuck my titties?"

"You know I fucking do!" His voice cracked like a little boys and I had to smile at the eagerness in his voice. But the time for teasing was over. I pulled his juicy cock between my busty pillows and wrapped him in their warm embrace. "Oh fuck!" he screamed and I swear he almost came right then he managed to hold back. "You have the best fucking tits in the world! So big and soft, they so damn amazing. Fuck me with those boobs!"

Pleased he was starting to get involved with the dirty talk, I did just that. Cupping my breasts with my hands, I started giving long strokes to his cock, burying it in my cleavage until it almost disappeared completely and then pulling back so his cock-head pierced through like a spear. Sticky white jizz was already leaking free and before long, the slopes of my tits were coating in a fine layer of his cum. The sight actually turned me on even more and I egged him on even more. "Do my big, fat titties feel good around your cock? Do you like plowing your dick between them, making me service your man-meat like this? Because I fucking love it! I love squeezing your cock with my breasts, it feels so warm, so hard, so perfect between my giant melons!"

James reached down and grabbed my tits, searching for and finding my nipples. He tweaked them mercilessly--a bit harder than he normally does but we were both so lost in the titfucking that I didn't mind in the least--and lifted his hips to thrust in counter-rhythm to my own movements. "Of course you love it," he said, is voice surprisingly low given the situation. "A slut loves using her tits to bring off her husband, to milk his cock for all of its cum. A slut can't get enough cock to satisfy her and lives for titfucking like this. Isn't that fucking right?"

His reference back to my words from earlier must have short-wired my brain because I nearly lost control right then and there. Even with my sensitive breasts, I've never orgasmed from giving James a titjob, but I almost did after he called me a slut. Unfortunately, he already reached his limit.

With a couple of spasming jerks, his tip exploded with an ocean of semen, built up over the past week without any release. The first spurt was so energetic that it flew past my face and landing somewhere behind me. The next hit my chin, splattering against it before falling back to my generous slopes. As I watched, more and more leapt free, depositing itself on my throat and boobs until the **** slowed down enough so that it began to seep down his pole in slow-moving globules. I felt inordinately proud of the results, knowing that it was my words, my body that had caused such an eruption from my husband.

I moved to stand up, but James sensed my motion and placed his hands on my shoulder, keeping me down on my knees. With a flourish, he pulled off the mask, his eyes taking in the messy scene at his feet, a mischievous gleam shining in them. "Now it's your turn."

Then, without giving me time to protest, he lowered the mask over my eyes and all I could see was darkness.