And here it comes.  Sam was ready for it, she pushed against me, taking my cock even deeper into her cunt as the first spurt pumped from me, then the next, more powerful, and again, and again.  One day I will remember to count them.  When we are watching porn together, we usually hit slow motion when the stud starts his come, so that we we can count the spurts together.  Can I match the professionals?  Possibly, but at the point of climax  I always forget.

Drained, and with that slight feeling of remorse that usually follows an ejaculation, I felt my cock soften slightly.  A little rush of cum, the backwash, trickling over my balls and between my bum cheeks to soak into the sheet beneath me.  I used to be able to stay hard inside her, sometimes even come again without uncoupling  But not know, as much as I would love to, now it takes a lot of coaxing by my lovely, loving wife.

She rolled off and lay beside me, lovely tits rising and falling as she caught her breath.  I could imagine my precious gift leaking from her cunt, between her lovely arse cheeks and into the sheet.  What a waste.  Before the event, I often had visions of sucking my spunk from her cunt immediately after I had filled it.  Recycle it straight to my balls to be reused.  But in that post ejaculation lull, I had never dared to.

Not that I was averse to the taste of my own spunk, far from it, I taste it often, from Sam's lips, from her fingers or my own, even from her tits after glazing them.  But never from her cunt.  I love the taste of that, can't get enough.  And the idea of sipping a cocktail, her nectar and my cream, straight from her golden cup, drives me wild.  Next time.  Perhaps.

Nature is cruel, there I was with a limp dick and a beautiful, willing woman naked beside me.  She can come repeatedly, why not me?  I felt her moving and turned my head.  She was masturbating, using my spunk a lubricant.  One of her ways of coaxing life into my depleted cock.  It was working, my cock slowly unfurled  I turned on my side to watch, getting harder by the second.

Both of Sam's hands were busy, her eyes were closed.  There was a wet slurp as she fucked herself with two fingers in her cunt and rubbed her tiny sensitive clit with the other hand.  I wrapped my fingers around my cock and wanked in time with her thrusts, priming it for when she was ready for it.

Her body arched from the bed as her climax hit, then she flopped down clamping both hands between her thighs as her body convulsed.  When her spasms subsided, she opened her eyes and smiled, offering her fingers for me to suck clean.  Delicious.  I wanted more, direct from the brimming well.  I moved between her thighs for my feast.

I know, I had missed cocktail time.  My essence would be all but gone by now, replaced by her stronger flavour.  But just in case, I raised her legs high and licked upwards from her coccix to her cunt, up her bum cleft rimming the rose us of her arsehole, over her little bridge, along her cunt cleft to her clitoris, my tongue scouring for every trace.  She was probably still on the plateau from her self induced come, it was not long before she was thrashing again.  I kept on lapping at her honeypot but she pushed me away, saying;

"I'm all cummed out, just fuck me."

I scrambled up into position, she held my resurrected boner with the fingers of both hands and fed it into her liquid centre, groaning as it stretched her.  It would take a while for me to reach my own happy ending, and it was so much better because of that.  I was able to enjoy every thrust, every gasp, the gradual build up to my climax.  This would be my third of the day, Sam had probably had six or more.  Good job we didn't have to work tomorrow, don't you love weekends?

And here it comes.  If felt even more intense than the last, but there was unlikely to be as much spunk.  And yes, I  forgot to count.  I dismounted, Sam cleaned herself with tissues.  We cuddled together in the spoons position.  I kissed her neck and said goodnight.  And yes, another missed opportunity, another fresh creampie uneaten.  Next time.  Perhaps.

My name is Brendan, and I had been married to Samantha, Sam, for about fifteen years.  We had both just celebrated reaching the big four-oh.  No kids, that's down to me, I don't have the tadpoles strong enough to ring the bell.  We were disapointed at first, but in many ways, it turned out in our favour.  We were free to concentrate on our careers.  And each other.  My semen might be spermless, but to compensate, I produce large amounts of it.  So I can usually ejaculate more than once a session, given enough time and stimulation. 

Sam provides that stimulation.  We were both well experienced before we became a couple, so there are no hangups, no taboos, we both love sex and lots of it.  So I fire blanks, but powerfully and frequently.  Needless to say, we have a good sex life as well as a good life in general. 

We bought our first house in a place called Flitwick, because it was a fairly easy commute.  I say house, it was a very run down bungalow which we refurbished over several years.  I was born in Ireland, my parents still lived there.  Sam is a Londoner, her parents still lived in the house where she was born, a double-fronted terraced in an area which has become yuppified, with houses fetching eye-watering prices.

When her father had a stroke and found stairs difficult, they offered us a house-swap.  Sam is an only child and would have inherited anyway.  It would need an extensive refurb, but it was an ideal solution, greatly reducing our commute.  It was too big, four bedrooms and just the two of us.  We talked about having it converted into flats, like most of the houses in the street, but decided against.

Sam worked for a prestigious London estate agent.  That's how she met Lisa.  Lisa was flat hunting, having recently divorced and their marital home had been sold.  She was shocked by the prices being asked for rentals, even for a bedsit.  For some reason, Sam took a shine to her and decided to help.

I was almost asleep, drained.  Sam murmered;

"How would you feel about having a lodger?"

"A lodger?  Why?"

"We do tend to rattle around in this place, it's far too big for us."

It was true.  The place had a large cellar, a large kitchen, a dining room, two further rooms on the ground floor, four large bedrooms, one en-suite, a bathroom and an attic room.  We had incidentally, fucked in all of them.  Even so, having another person living in would be a huge intrusion.  It would mean an end to spontaneous sex.  And we didn't need the money.

"No."

She said no more about it.  But a few days later, Sam phoned me at work;

"Would it be alright if I invite a friend for lunch on Sunday?"

I agreed.  The friend was Lisa.  She was about our age, a tall, slim, blue eyed blonde.  A real head turner.  She was casually but expensively dressed, almost as tall as my 5'11" in her high stillettos.  I had not fucked anybody but Sam since our marriage, but I could dream.  Lisa was certainly dream material.  Wet-dream material.  She was good company, amusing and a good conversationalist.  I walked her to the tube station when she left, she linked her arm through mine as though we were a couple.

"Do you like her?"

Asked Sam when I got back.  I said yes, how did they know each other.  Sam said that she was a client, told me about her housing difficulties.  Lisa was recently divorced and still, living in the marital home in St Albans.  But the house had been sold and the new owners were keen to move in.  The penny dropped.

"She is the lodger you were talking about?"

"She is.  It would only be for a few months at most.  What do you think?"

So we gained a lodger.  I was suspicious, Sam did nothing without a reason.

To be continued…