You know I was gonna deliver.

Letting my robe drop to the floor, I watched that smirk of his grow even bigger as he looked me up and down, clearly taking in my matronly curves, all the way from my thick jiggly head-squashing thighs, my plump slappable derriere/hip region, my soft pillowy tummy, to my big heavy mommy milkers, that keep him and his children well fed. I leaned down and gave him a long, deep kiss, which he returned by running his tongue against the back of my teeth. I had expected for him to grab a boob, but they remained strangely ungrabbed by him that evening. Just as weirdly, even though he was holding a glass of whiskey, I couldn't taste it in his breath too.

Slowly going down onto my knees, I kissed and nipped at his body reverently, in appreciation of everything he's put it through for us all, while coaxing his hips to the edge of his chair, until I was staring down the one eye of his not so softie anymore. Now, he's not fond of me talking about it, but I'm very glad that he's more show than grow, because it means that I've always got more to work and start with. And if we're being honest, it doesn't really matter. The man it's attached to is more important than it, and they both make me cum my brains out when he fucks me with it.

Keeping one hand on his thigh, mainly to help me with my balance, I slid my other hand up his other thigh, coming in to gently take hold of his shaft and balls, before leaning in close. His male musk grew stronger and stronger as I stroked and massaged his package, feeding it just a little bit more blood. Just from feeling how full and heavy his balls were, I felt like I had to apologize for being neglectful of my husband's needs, and I did that by going down past his cock and giving them both a gentle little kiss. Those kisses made their way up the bottom of his cock, all the way up to his tip, and then over and around his big little head.

Now usually, I have my eyes closed when I'm blowing my husband, because I like the feeling and feedback from my lips and tongue about how his cock is reacting to me, but this time being more for him than for me, I kept them open, so that I could read his face instead. (Especially since he's started growing out his beard. I hated it at first, but now that he's gone from scruffy to rugged, he's looking pretty damn hot!) His smile had softened slightly, but I could still feel the love coming out from him, the soft groans coming out of his mouth, and him brushing my hair out of my face so that he had a better look of me working my magic on him. Even more, I could feel how much control he was putting into his hands. He was gripping his whiskey so tightly in his hand, but he was trying so hard to keep his other hand soft while it was holding onto my head.

I realize it now that I'm thinking about it, but the reason why he was holding that glass, and my head, was just to keep his hands busy. He was doing his best to not grab my boobs because he wanted to try and find pleasure from just my mouth. But I must have picked up on that subconsciously, because I willingly stopped blowing him and brought up my teat. I pinched and pulled at my nip to get it a little stiff, and with the slightest amount of pressure, I squeezed out a bead of milk. I then took that bead and very delicately deposited it onto his urethra. The deep, low, reverberating growl of a rare Rancher "Fuck..." is now one of my favorite noises that I've made him make.

Going back to the subject of my head, hair, and control, at some point, he took all three.

The whiskey glass was on the table, and the hand on my head grabbed a good handful of hair. Licking and biting his lower lip, he moved my head and mouth as he pleased, using me as he wanted, groaning and moaning at me. It's pretty much a dice roll if he was doing this because he was getting bored and wanted to switch things up by being more active, he was getting close and wanted me to slow down but knows it's tough for me to do that so he had to make me, he wanted to experiment and see this type of head does it for him, or my great hope, that he was getting so turned on that he just needed more from me. In any case, I was more than happy to let him do what he wanted. This was a rare "Rancher wants his dick sucked" event, and I'm not about to ruin any chance to make that happen more often. Besides, remember I said something about wanting him to nail my head to the wall? Yeah, this felt like the lite-version of that, so I took it as his treat to me, for treating him so good this week.

But the sweetest treat was just around the corner.

He was on his feet, fingertips digging onto my scalp, and the other hand trying not to clench into a fist up in the air, near his mouth. I know him and his cock well enough to know exactly when he's on the verge of exploding, and now was the time for me to bring it all together. Pulling away from him, I brought up both teats again, and they have been dripping by this point, aimed them at his dick, and gave it a good spray down of my milk. Another angry snarl barely escaped from behind his fingers when he clamped his mouth shut, but his heel stomping on the floor was pretty dang loud, because when I throated his milk-covered cock a second later, he nutted harder than ever before. And I, the ever diligent wife, enjoyed the sweet pineappley and the hint of milk compliments to his salty baby goo, getting every drop out of him, even after his legs gave out and he dropped back into his chair.

It took him a couple of minutes to come back to me, but when he did, he saw me with both my arms crossed across his lap, resting my chin on them, with the most "how'd ya like me now?" proud of myself grin on my face. To which he answered, by pulling me up in to his lap, hugging me close, and whispered that this week was amazing and that he loved me so very much, before kissing me tenderly, his lips being even sweeter than the cum I just drank. We were more than happy to just sit there and cuddle all night, but we kind of had to leave before our combined horny stank seeped into his office, and without more effort than picking up a bag of groceries, he stood up, wrapped my legs around him, and carried me all the way to the bathroom, where we could wash each other off before snuggling up in bed. (I'm either not as heavy as the scale says I am, or the beard is giving him Herculean strength. Win-win, as far as I'm concerned to be honest)

And to answer the question, no I did not get off that night, but those couple of minutes where he was rebooting because of how I made him the happiest man on Earth? Worth every second of our marriage.

And that is way better than just cumming.