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Cynthia’s husband of two years, Brian, was in the Marines’ Force Recon and stationed in Iraq. She had heard her brother, who was a Naval officer, refer to Force Recon marines as “bullet sponges” when he thought she wasn’t listening, since he would have never said such a thing had he known she was within earshot of him.
This description sent Cynthia’s imagination into overdrive. That, coupled with Brian’s occasional slip of the tongue during phone conversations and webcam chats, he’d mention hearing the buzzing of bullets, a fallen partner, or just some fire fight in general, sending the poor girl into a hysterical panic, crying her eyes out, pleading with him and God to be careful and to come home safe.
Barely 20 years old, Cynthia was naive to the point of being frivolous when it came to such things; blissfully ignorant since her parents had sheltered her from the cruelties mankind visits upon itself. Everyone who knew her, including Brian, was infinitely thankful for this, as otherwise she may have had a mental breakdown, though she was vaguely familiar with the dangers of war.
Each night she would pray to God, Jesus, Mohamed, Zeus, and anyone else she could think of, to bring her beloved Brian home to her safely, then cry herself to sleep. He had been gone for two long and tortuous years and, to her infinite relief finally was coming home to the loving arms of his wife and to safety.
She had married him very young. Against her parents’ wishes they had married on her eighteenth birthday guaranteeing that it was now her favorite day of the year.
She had never known any other man in a romantic or sexual context and that was fine by her. She had never wanted to know the affections, advances, or the touch of any man but Brian. Sometimes Cynthia would whisper his name. Saying it made her feel closer to him, it brought her comfort, it seemed to console her at the deepest levels of her tortured soul and being. To her it was like some magical word which had infinite power over her.
She had always loved saying his name. How it seemed to roll so naturally from her lips, she would sometimes annoy others by overusing it, finding any excuse to utter it.
Brian was a much older man and everything she had ever dreamed love could be. However the age issue was one reason her parents disliked him so. They felt that a man of 31 shouldn’t be romantically involved with a teenage girl not quite legal at the time, though he refused to touch her until she was 18 which only endeared him further to Cynthia, as he had proven his willingness to wait for her and that he wanted more than just her body.
From the very beginning her father especially had been opposed to their teenage girl being with a man so much older than herself.
He had even threatened Brian with physical violence on a few occasions; but Cynthia was completely and hopelessly swept away by this hero who had been fighting overseas.
She wasn’t about to let her parents or anyone else drive him away from her for fear her young soul would perish without its mate.
Before long she’d given him her heart and soul as well as her hand, and in two years had never regretted agreeing to wait for her husband.
Her heart belonged to him completely. Brian had always been her lord — her Knight in shinning armor, and she wouldn’t live again – not really, until they were reunited.
At times it felt like she couldn’t distinguish fact from fiction so in a way she was much like a child, with an imagination so vivid that if she thought it, she saw it as clearly as someone sees something with their own eyes.
She had had this gift as far back as she could remember and practiced every time her longing for the wayward lover became more than her tender heart could bear.
Sometimes she feared she’d die if she had to be separated from her soul mate even one more second. She wondered if her imagination would become manifest into reality — if her involuntarily fearing the worst all the time would ultimately kill him.
“Stop thinking!”, Or “Shut up-shut up-shut up!”, she would scold herself out loud. This led some to be concerned for her sanity when this happened involuntarily. She wondered sometimes if she was some sort of Witch, with the power to control such things.
Cynthia in essence was a very eccentric person behind the facade she presented to the world. Cynthia had always been a ‘daddy’s girl’ which she suspected in the back of her mind was the root of her attraction to her older husband.
She would pick up the fuzzy pink teddy bear her darling soldier had won for her at the state fair those two long years ago before he had “shipped out”. Its fluffy pink coat had faded and the animal was becoming flimsy with wear from being constantly clung to.
Since her husband had left she had seldom relinquished her one comfort zone. Its bluish eyes, she thought, were hauntingly realistic, driving her to talk to it as she would her friends.
She’d lost contact with her friends, the girls in her high school casino şirketleri cheer leading squad, when her and Brian immersed themselves in each other arms. The couple just couldn’t seem to find the time for other people.
The crowd she had grown up with were of the rich, spoiled, ditsy, conceited, self absorbed variety. Words that had each been used to describe her at one point or another, and Cynthia was at a time the queen of all the princesses oh her highschool kingdom.
She’d always had admirers and had always been quite a tease to them. Always playing mind game, leading the boys on, and keeping them all on tight leashes. Within Cynthia’s circle it was a contest of popularity, to have the latest clothes, accessories, and most importantly boys, namely those of the same social standing as the girls.
However, not even the most popular of guys in Cynthia’s school seemed to measure up to those early fantasies of the brave knight in shinning armor that lay so deeply rooted in her mind’s eye, and Cynthia was unwilling to “settle” for less than what she wanted.
Sex – to Cynthia in those days felt beneath her. She felt that none of the boys she knew could ever be up to her standards, so the idea of sex with them simply never appealed to her, giving her the reputation of being an ice queen. She matured a great deal after Brian found her, teaching her there was more to life than a trail of admirers and an expensive hand bag.
She’d hug the little bear tightly, close her pretty sky blue eyes that were lightly dabbed with eyeliner and a hint of blue shadow, whip her long angel fine golden hair out from her face and begin to visualize Brian.
She’d imagine the way he’d smell when he wore the Stetson country cologne she’d bought him at Christmas, the taste and texture of his tongue when they kissed as it snaked and rolled in and out of her mouth dominating hers in a slippery and vigorous bout of passion.
The sounds of his kisses. That beautiful kissing sound they made as their lips finally parted and how she would go in for more quick pecks just for the sound of them, trying to make them the noisiest kisses she could.
She would daydream about the way his powerful arms — like those of some ancient knight from King Arthur’s own court felt around her petite 5’4″ form, giving her the feeling of being a fairytale princess rescued from some evil lord’s dragon, and whisked away to some magical land that belonged only to her and her love.
She thought of how protected and safe from harm she felt when enveloped in his embrace, and how his large hands felt on her body when he made love to her over and over. Strong but always so loving and adorably gentle. A gentleness she never took for granted as though he were some wild rampaging animal domesticated and tamed only for her.
His long, thick, powerful fingers – His strong and calloused hands which dwarfed hers in comparison. As well as making herself smile by imagining all the ways she’d turn him on when he came home.
“He won’t know what hit him.” She thought to herself.
She would sit on their porch swing every day and muse about what she might wear, lingerie? Her old Cheerleader uniform? What make up he’d like her in. Would he kiss her sweetly if she wore it sparingly or would he rather she wear it slutty for him?
The things she’d do for him all night long. All the while grinning an evil grin with her forefinger adorned by a long pink painted nail resting on her rosy glossed lips — giving her a playfully mischievous demeanor.
Cynthia had made up her mind, knowing that Brian was so much more of an experienced lover, that she would educate herself on the fine art of giving oral satisfaction. She knew this to be his favorite act. Since Brian and Cynthia started dating she’d been blowing him. She knew her skills were adequate.
Though of course Brian would always try to convince her that she was blowing his mind. Telling her about the softness of her tongue, the grip of her lips. Always moaning breathlessly
“Suck it, Cynthia, you make it so good!” She reminisced fondly of how Brian was always trying to get her to do it for him and she would never have the heart to deny him anything, in fact she lived to serve him and felt such an intense feeling of pride and satisfaction when she knew she’d made him happy especially when she’d “get him off.”
Cynthia knew her cock sucking skills were generally run-of-the-mill though… Not much to keep Brian’s attentions she feared. She knew even then that she was inexperienced and awkward in her performances but sweet Brian — Her gentle giant was only trying to build her ego and confidence as well as save her heart and feelings by not telling her she could do better.
It was her dream to become the perfect little housewife for him: cooking, cleaning, and taking care of her man by keeping the home fires blazing out of control and she often dreamed of what it would be like to carry and bare his children.
She decided to do a search on ‘deep throat’. casino firmaları She found many porn sites, as well as instructional articles and videos on the subject. What better gift for the man of her heart could there be than to learn such a skill?
Each of the videos and articles spoke of how deep throat was something that every man loved. That it was one of the most intensely satisfying skills a woman can have.
She listened to men speak on the sensations and the women commenting on their technique. As she listened she would practice relaxing her throat and mimic the motions and body language of the artists.
She wanted to perfect her own style and technique before her husband returned so that his homecoming would be a night that would make him smile, even blush for the rest of his life.
Cynthia went and bought a latex dildo of 8″ which was about the same width and length as her beloved Brian. It was an odd color, an ever so obvious synthetic cross between a shiny beige, pink, and peach. It had a suction cup at the bottom which was large, round and deeply set for maximum sticking power.
The latex manhood was made for realism — complete with veins, ridges, a head, and was soft and flexible in its molding which was why Cynthia had settled on it.
She looked at it for a time, wondering if maybe she had lost her mind for having this in her house and what her husband would think if he ever found out. She just wouldn’t let that happen, she thought.
She squeezed at it and batted at it like a kitten with some strange new toy not sure what to feel or think as she looked at this fake… “Dinger”. Cynthia was such an innocent soul at heart that naughtiness was something she had to put effort into usually.
She stared at the rubber cock for a time holding it up so her eyes crossed looking at it and giggled.
She read the articles forwards and backwards finding keywords for further study. She felt so naughty for reading all of this but she was rather enjoying the feeling. She didn’t know quite how to feel about that either.
Wondering to herself,
“Is this even normal?”
She watched the videos until she could recite them word for word; Until she could tell you anything you wanted to know about the subject of deep throat.
She studied the anatomy of the male penis until she came to understand it better than most men. The sensitive spots, techniques of the hands, and the mouth. She learned how to move her hands, her head, her body. She came to understand the psychology of the act.
How subtleties like eye contact, the right words, or the right move can make all the difference in his experience. She read the testimonials from women and gay men who described how they’d get lost in the act. She read some people who spoke of how their “…mouths were like water faucets when they sucked dick” and that “It helped them deep throat more easily.”
She watched the porn stars, mimicking their hip action periodically when she liked how they moved and became intrigued. She came to prefer those moves where the hip action was slow, fluid, and circular like dancing as opposed to jerky, simplistic, up and down, and back and fourth repetitions.
Cynthia would kneel as though riding some invisible lover and move her child bearing hips like those women did. Getting the groove down and the rhythm of motion. Her stomach flipped with curious anticipation the first time she saw Anastasia Blue and Charlie Chase “wet sucking.”
She cocked her head like a confused and disoriented puppy at the site of the stars who’d be blowing humongous white spit bubbles and how good it looked as it hung there — drool hanging from her chin to his balls. She searched more like Sasha Grey. Cynthia knew this was something she’d recruit into her cock sucking arsenal. In time she became quite the Porn buff just like her husband.
She wondered what Brian’s reaction would be when she is doing it for him. Drooling and spitting all over it like that. She imagined how he’d react to her leaving her thick, white, bubbly glaze on his big, thick cock. She shivered slightly as a warm pang of excitement rushed through her small body.
The very thought of how much that would please him sent her into heat. She really was dedicated to her lover, her man, her king. She lived to please him to take care of him…To love him. This was her motivation, and she would walk through fire to the very ends of the Earth just for the satisfaction of knowing she’d pleased him by doing so.
Cynthia took a bottle of old wine from the cellar and popped the cork sending it flying as the bubbly liquid poured out, coaxing a cute giggly squeal from her as she tried to pour it into a chilled wine glass from the freezer.
After all her hard study as well as a few to many glasses of wine, Cynthia decided it was time to practice. She laid her new “friend” on the table and stood up.
Still a bit nervous she struggled to overcome it. “Brian likes this stuff”, she thought to herself, “I güvenilir casino have to learn to be like that for him. He thinks my prudishness is cute for now, but if I don’t learn to do dirty stuff for him, he might get bored with me and find someone who will. Then what?”
A cold pang of genuine jealousy surged through her veins like an icy blast and then distress at how unthinkable that scenario would be. What would she do without Brian? What good would she be without him to please and serve?
She looked over at the mirror in the hall separating the living room from the dining room. The huge mirror was diligently cleaned each day along with the rest of their home.
Cynthia had always been something of a clean freak. She had fallen in love with the antique style of the wooden Queen Anne trimming and had had a new mirror fashioned to fit the trim. The long rectangle stretched from the ceiling to the floor.
She looked at her reflexion in the mirror, admiring herself intently. She told herself she must be beautiful if a man such as Brian would have her, swelling her, taking in what she saw filled her with gleaming pride as her features were those of a beautiful woman still caught by the death throws of adolescence: young, perky and fresh, though undeniably a woman now, even if barely.
She saw her long, angel fine blond hair, with it’s divine golden hue which had streaks of lighter and darker natural highlights. It seemed to give off a radiant luminous shine she was quite proud of — an almost heavenly angelic glow.
It seemed to cascade down her right shoulder stopping just above her small breast curling slightly only at the ends hanging in otherwise long strait flowing locks. Cynthia had always been a beautiful girl and she was quite aware of it.
She had enjoyed the sight of her reflexion often. Secretly she would wonder what it would be like to have sex with herself or a clone, though she would never admit that and ferociously laid claim to her heterosexuality.
As she brushed her hair from the front of her shoulder to the back and she held it up over her head, turning to her side profile and smiling as though she were a model posing for a photographer.
Her baby blue eyes, that held in them a sense of wonder to rival a child’s, that were usually so full of life and shone like deep blue pools now hid within them the sorrow of soul wrenching loneliness and the gut twisting pain and worry she felt for her knight in shinning armor, Brian.
Her long delicate lashes were dabbed lightly with mascara and eye liner and a bluish tint endowed her eye lids with just a hint of color like a mystical winter ice. Her full pink lips shined in the light of the chandelier with her cherry flavored lip gloss dabbed on for effect. She winked into the mirror and danced slightly in her buzzed state to some imaginary tune.
At 5’4″, 108 pounds Cynthia was quite petite which gave her a very fragile yet pleasing milky white complected body. Her hips were well proportioned to the rest of her form, rounded and slightly wide child baring hips, with a flat and toned tummy.
Her butt, which was very well toned by years of cheer leading and gymnastics, as well as her aerobics and pilates that she enjoyed now as an escape from the world. on each side’s cheek was a dimple that Brian jokingly said you could eat soup out of.
Her legs looked long despite her height, with toned thighs that matched the rest of her young exterior perfectly. She often heard praise for her exceptionally toned legs. Her feet were small and were decorated with a silver toe ring and toe nails decorated with the same pink polish that was on her fingernails.
Her sweet young breasts were only a bit smaller than a medium size. Like a pair of large apples – 28 b’s, they sat high on her chest. Their firmness was one of her husband’s favorite features and after they had become intimate one of his favorite pastimes.
She had always felt a bit inadequate in this department and she’d sometimes catch herself stuffing a larger bra just to see what she’d look like if she had “jugs”. She had raised the idea of breast enhancement to Brian but was quickly shot down. He enjoyed them just as they are and wouldn’t want them to be anymore than a handful. He loved them; in fact, he couldn’t get enough of them.
Cynthia’s parents had almost caught the two of them as he was ravaging her youthful breasts. Noisily kissing and sucking at the nipples. Her cradling his head and whimpering his name and clawing at his back.
Her breasts were rounded with a curvature which pointed her thick long nipples upwards. The areolas were quite large in proportion to the rest of the breast and her nipples were nearly always hard which was why she always wore a bra. Brian would call them headlights when they’d poke proudly through both bra and shirt. She’d giggle back to him as she blushed deeply but enjoying.
She stood there, admiring the straightness of her posture and how the short silk bath robe decorated with pink roses seemed to drape over her body in a flawless dance of silky elegance. She untied and flung it open to reveal a thin and tight white spaghetti strap top with no bra, her nipples harder than usual — Like two proud diamonds jutting proudly through the thin cotton material.
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