The Siesta in Which I Took Control of My Husband

My name is Marisa, and I’m pushing past forty. I’m a married woman, with a generous chest, wide hips, and a body that still gets attention, even if the scales disagree with me some mornings. My husband, Andrés, is over fifty, and our life in bed had become a lukewarm habit: partly because of the years we’d spent together, partly because of our twenty-something son, who was always hanging around the house, and partly because when one of us was in the mood, the other had already lost the urge.

We’d gone more than two weeks without touching each other. The last time was all too proper: a few warming-up caresses, forced silence so the boy wouldn’t hear us, and Andrés on top of me doing the job at half speed. I didn’t even come. All because I was afraid our son would hear his mother moaning from the other side of the hall.

That morning I’d gotten up unsettled. For hours my nipples had been so hard they hurt when they brushed against my blouse. I had to change out of the old panties I wear around the house before lunch, because I’d taken care of myself with my fingers on the sofa, watching a handsome, empty-headed presenter with more jaw than brains and not nearly enough conversation. The worst part was that that half-release only left me hotter, with a husband-hunger I had no idea how I was going to satisfy.

I put on the boldest lingerie set I owned and hid it under a comfortable tracksuit. I welcomed my men to lunch, pretending everything was normal. Then came the good news: my son had an afternoon study session with his friends at the library. The moment I heard that, the beast woke up inside me. I could only think about the instant he’d walk out the door so I could throw myself on Andrés.

My husband caught my looks. While we were cleaning up the kitchen, just the two of us, he came up behind me, kneaded my ass with both hands, and whispered in my ear.

—So today, then?

—Today, yes —I answered, turning only slightly—. Today I feel like taking everything you’ve been holding back.

—Go to the bedroom and take a nap. As soon as the kid leaves, I’m coming to get you.

As if I’d be able to sleep.

The boy lingered for a good half hour, pacing, looking for chargers and notebooks, until he finally grabbed his backpack and left. I took the chance to lock the front door so he wouldn’t come back unexpectedly. I walked down the hall peeling off my tracksuit until I was left in my underwear. The set was tight: my breasts were spilling out of the cups and the panties were riding up into my crack, unable to contain anything. It wasn’t exactly elegant, but Andrés liked that sort of thing more than any catalog-perfect body.

I opened the bedroom door and there he was.

Asleep.

Waiting had beaten him. He was naked on top of the bedspread, his cock half-awake, a sign that he had been waiting for me hard until sleep won out. The logical thing would have been to lie down beside him and let him rest.

But I went into the bathroom first, and that changed everything.

Andrés had urinated before going to bed. The bowl was clean, he’d flushed, there was nothing dirty left. And yet his masculine smell still floated in the room, dense, warm, and I was soaked all at once just breathing it in. It went through me like a current. In all those years, I had never paid attention to that part of him. And suddenly it was the only thing that existed.

I barely dried myself between the legs and went back to the bed. Instead of lying down, I crawled slowly until I was between Andrés’s open thighs. I lowered my head carefully so I wouldn’t wake him and brought my nose to his sleeping cock. I inhaled deeply. That scent of a rested male, thickened by two weeks of abstinence, was driving me insane in a way I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t stop breathing it in, as if it were a drug my body had been waiting for for years.

I lowered myself a little more, toward his testicles. They were clean, but everything about him gave off that strong, musky perfume. They were swollen, heavy, full from forced rest. Maybe that was what made him smell so brutally good.

Boldly, I slid still lower. Asleep and sprawled out as he was, his body offered me everything with no defense. He smelled intense all the way to the last corner, and my mouth was watering thinking of licking him from top to bottom, of soaking myself in him until I lost my mind.

From pressing my face against his skin so much, one of my breaths brushed too close and woke him up.

—Hey… what are you doing down there? —he muttered, rough with sleep.

—You drive me crazy, Andrés —I told him without moving away—. I need to lick you all over. And smell you. Especially smell you.

I took off my bra. My breasts hung free while I stayed on all fours, my nose buried in his groin, which was warm and only lightly damp with sweat. Far from bothering me, it turned me on even more. While I stroked him very slowly with my hand, I ran my tongue over the folds of his groin, over the base of everything, with a hunger I didn’t recognize in myself.

—Turn over —I asked him—. Lie face down.

He looked at me with one eyebrow raised. It wasn’t the first time I’d played with a finger while sucking him, but this time I wanted something different, something I’d never done to anyone before.

I spread his ass cheeks with both hands and buried my face between them, pressing my nose to his skin, filling myself with his smell while I felt my own cunt leaking and soaking that ridiculous panty all the way through. I ran my tongue from bottom to top, I kissed and bit his flesh, I got lost in that secret corner I had never tasted on him in all our years of marriage.

Andrés was moaning softly, surprised, clutching the sheets with his toes, trying not to close his legs, giving me full access. I started pressing my tongue hard against him again and again, while he howled with a pleasure he clearly hadn’t expected to feel. Suddenly he held me back, scared he might come too soon.

—Come here —he ordered, panting—. Now it’s my turn.

He shoved me onto my back on the bed, spread my legs, and stared at me, spellbound.

—Fuck, Marisa, look at your panties. You’re filthy. What I’m going to give you.

He ripped the fabric off in one pull and wanted to dive headfirst between my thighs, but I stopped him with a hand on his forehead.

—Not like that. Get the other way around, on top of me. I need to keep smelling you while you eat me. I’m not going to suck your cock. I only want your body on my face.

Obedient, he got on top of me in reverse and, carefully, fit the lower part of his body right over my nose. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with him.

—You really are bad, love —he said, his voice muffled—. So horny you’re smelling me back there. Your cunt’s swollen, dark from how hot you are.

He bent over me and started devouring me like a man crossing a desert and finding water. Meanwhile, I moved my nose over his whole backside, hotter and sweatier by the minute, licking at whatever came close to my mouth. I was losing my mind, more because of his smell than because of his tongue, which felt good but wasn’t enough for me. My body was screaming for something else. I pushed him away as best I could, got onto all fours, and told him straight out.

—Split me open, Andrés. No mercy. I need you to fuck me now.

I wiggled my ass like a bitch in heat so he could see how badly I wanted it, begging to be fucked.

—All right then. No mercy.

He grabbed me by the edge of my ass cheeks, digging his fingers into my flesh in a way that threw me off balance, and drove into me in one single thrust to the hilt, holding still for an instant. He was so hard and throbbing from all that filthy excitement that every beat of his cock stroked me from inside. Before I lost the last of my reason, I managed one final order.

—Fuck me hard. But don’t come inside me. Under no circumstances.

I know he started saying filthy things while he battered me without mercy, but I was already somewhere else. I arched my back, offered him my ass as perky as I could, inhaled deeply, recovering from the depths of my memory that male smell that had set me on fire, and surrendered to the longest, strangest orgasm of my life. I was only breathing and coming. Each wave rose up my spine, burst at the top, fell again, and started all over. A madness with no end.

***

I don’t know how long it lasted. His trembling voice pulled me out of the trance.

—Marisa… I can’t hold on any longer. If I keep going, I’m going to dump it all inside you. I’m sorry…

I broke away and laid him on his back on the mattress. I rubbed his chest with my breasts, moistened my middle finger with my own orgasm, and slowly brought it to his backside, pressing carefully while I took his cock all the way into my mouth. He was at my mercy, trapped between my mouth and my hand. He didn’t hold out long under that assault.

—Marisa, I’m coming. It’s a lot, I haven’t in weeks… move away, it’s going to be too much.

My only answer was to press harder with my finger and swallow him deeper. He shattered in a dense, endless release that flowed thickly down my throat, while I was intoxicated by that deep smell, the smell of my man, the one who had turned me into another woman that afternoon.

When he was done, I carefully pulled my finger out, went to the bathroom, filled a glass with water, and returned to the bed. I put a little blue pill on his tongue and made him swallow it.

—Recover —I ordered, stroking his hair—. Because before the boy gets back, I want round two. And it’s going to be from behind.

I settled back in between his legs, pressed my nose where I liked it best, and waited patiently for my male to be ready again. But that’s another story.