myerotica.com /easy-to-please-2c20e1e40b08

Easy To Please - MyErotica.com

Bella Cooper
11-14 minutes

Romance Erotica

For years I thought I had to primp and look sexy. Turns out everything I thought he wanted was just a myth.

Bella Cooper

When I was twenty-one and first married, all I knew was dating. When I dated, I primped, put on my sexy black dress and trolled for cock. I read the Cosmopolitan advice columns and put myself into the torturous come-fuck-me stilettos. I was always rewarded with a guy between my legs and often a follow-up performance in the morning.

Twenty years on, I was getting laid once or twice a month. These days I was searching the same magazines for advice about the ten best things to do to turn your husband on. The primping I enjoyed so much years ago was just a slog, and I felt more tired and dumpy than sexy.

But I needed dick, I needed it in a bad way, and I was starting to notice the bulging crotches of every guy that walked by. In fact, it was the main reason to go out. Like a kid going to a toy store looking at all the toys behind cellophane that they can’t have. I was seriously questioning why I got married.

I had forgotten to buy eggs the day before. My husband's favorite breakfast before golf, and I know it sounds cheesy, but I love making him happy. He’s my husband and I love him, even if we have a lackluster sex life. So there I was, standing in line at the store at an ungodly hour.

The checker, Mabel or whatever her name was, looked to be about a hundred and was fumbling with a pile of change and some food stamps, so this was going to take a while. I picked up a Cosmo that promised 25 ways to rekindle my marriage.

“You don’t need any of that shit!” a young lady next to me remarked. To say she looked a little disheveled was an understatement. I smiled at her. She reminded me of myself years ago, coming home from clubbing. She was in a thin skintight dress, gold and black, that came to barely mid-thigh. She had on the high heels and her face was covered with the remnants of carefully placed makeup. Not bad looking, just a very used look.

“Oh. Expert at marriages are we?” I asked playfully. What the hell could she know at her age?

“You bet,” she shot back with the great confidence that comes with the naivety of youth.

“So you’re a marriage counselor?”

“Sort of. I know a lot more about marriages than most chicks.”

“Do you? How did you come upon all that wisdom? You seem a little young and I notice,” I held up my ring, “you don’t have one of these.”

“I suck a lot of cock.”

It was like she did this mic drop and I have to say I was shocked. My mouth hung open, and I flushed with embarrassment at her statement, but she was serious and cool as a cucumber.

“Wow, you don’t hear that every day. Your mother must be proud.”

“She should be, I make a hell of a lot more than her. And we live in a way nicer place now, than when she was paying the bills,” she said, now looking through another copy of the magazine. By her statement, I made out she was a prostitute.

“See,” she said, looking at the magazine. “All this is bullshit. Mood? They are always in the mood. Sexy dress, foreplay. All bullshit. This is just to sell magazines. Just suck his cock or whatever. Takes like, what, ten minutes and you’re gold.”

“That seems a little simplified.”

“Why? Ninety percent of the guys that come to me want a blowjob. $20, no hassles. They hate begging the old lady for it. All I have to do is take the money and act like he’s the most fucking delicious thing I have had in my mouth all day. They love it and sometimes, I get so fucking wet from it. My man gets rode hard when I get home, if you catch my meaning.”

“I’m pretty sure that was just a statement, not much to figure out.”

“Try it. I’m not wrong.”

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Why are you here at four in the morning?” she asked. I pointed at the eggs.

“But why?” she asked again.

“I wanted to make my husband his favorite breakfast. Before golf,” I said.

“So you love the guy, you’re standing here in a hell’a slow line at four, but you won’t go home and wake him up with a blowjob.”

“Well, I don’t know, I guess. But…”

“But what? It’s not about you really, it's about what he thinks. Not makeup, lipstick, fancy dress. He does not give a fuck about all that. What do you guys bitch at each other about? I’m guessing money? Bills? Sex?” She held up the magazine. “That’s the shit they talk about in these, but all he wants is you. Your mouth, your pussy, a hand job, without asking or begging. Like you want it, like you can’t live without that dick. He’s easy to please. After you blow him, then you will need the makeup tips and the dress. To go out to the dinner he will give you for being his come slut. All I get is a twenty. And I get a lot of twenties.”

She put the magazine back, and we stood in line. She was making me think. Was it really that simple? I made it through the line and waved bye to her. She waved back and put her stuff on the belt.

Advice from a twenty-something prostitute seemed like something I should probably discard. It’s like asking a drug dealer to prescribe you a headache remedy. But one thing stuck with me: ninety percent of the men wanted a blowjob, and she had a lot of twenties. I didn’t see them, but it rung true somehow.

The problem is, I sucked at giving oral sex. I never seemed to get him off when I tried, and so I didn’t try much.

I put the eggs in the fridge and pulled off the sweats I had put on to make the store run. I was wide awake and my mind filled with blowjob ideas. Let’s give this a try. What can he do, roll over? That will prove she’s wrong, I said to myself.

I decided to take off my underwear and slip into bed beside him naked. He slept naked all the time, and I could never figure out why. But it did feel good to be next to him, his skin on mine, and feel his warmth. I lifted the covers and saw he was partially hard already. He usually didn’t want to fuck in the morning, citing a piss hard-on. But I was eager to get some practice in, so I pulled the blanket back gently and scooted down a bit.

He didn’t seem to wake up when I cradled his cock in my hand, but when I put the head of it in my mouth and teased the tip with my tongue, he moaned and started to stir.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” I said to him as he regained consciousness. Confused about what was happening, he probably thought it was a dream. I was having fun as I slipped his cock back into my mouth and felt him get harder. Sucking his cock slowly and lovingly. He didn’t say anything but moved his hand to my shoulder. I knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to put his hand on my head.

In the past when I gave him head, I never let him touch me. I don’t know; it was like I didn’t trust him to let go when I wanted him to or something. No, I was afraid he would want to come in my mouth. Now I felt like that was like fucking and making him stop before he came. So I took his hand and put it where I knew he wanted it. Popping up for a moment. “It’s OK. Do you want to fuck my mouth? Do it, be gentle though.”

He did just exactly that. He fucked my mouth and helped guide me with his hand. It seemed to really turn him on to use me that way, and I have to say it excited me to feel him this hard. I know this man; I know how his cock feels just before he comes and I could tell he was close. The slightly salty taste of his pre-cum was sexy as he thrust his cock up and down.

I pushed away a little, off and on, to keep him from hitting the back of my throat, and he let me. I loved that I had some control while giving the rest to him. I tipped my head a little, so that the head of his cock was rubbing the roof of my mouth, and that made all the difference.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, babe. Whatever you’re doing feels so good,” he said. What was I doing, he was the one fucking my mouth like a madman. I took hold of his cock and bobbed up and down, making sure to keep up the pressure on the head of his cock. He let go of me and laid back. His cock was hard as a rock.

“That’s it. I’m coming. I’m coming,” he said, I suspect to let me know to dodge his load. But I stuck with it. I had never come close before and I wasn’t going to stop. I jacked his cock faster and sucked the head. I was getting him off.

“Ahhh, ahhh, fuck,” his body twitched, and I felt the squirt of come on the roof of my mouth. It was a lot, and I didn’t coordinate it well with my breathing, so I backed off to catch my breath. He shot three more times into the air and all over my hand as I kept stroking his cock. I swallowed my first load of come and it wasn’t bad at all. I don’t know what I had expected.

“Shit, god that was good. You need to slow down a little, it’s too sensitive,” he said. I hadn’t considered that guys get sensitive too — why not, I did? It had never been an issue before, though. I sucked his cock a little more and wiped my face off on the sheet. He pulled me up to kiss me.

We slept for another hour. I woke up thinking I wanted to suck him again. I was cock drunk, and I hadn’t felt like that in years. But he was already awake, he had been watching me sleep.

“Stop it. I’m a mess,” I said. My face still felt like a glazed doughnut.

“You‘re beautiful. What was all that about?”

“What? I just wanted your cock,” I said, playing on the same theme. I felt his cock stir again.

“How about we get dressed and go to breakfast?” he suggested.

“You have golf. We don’t have time,” I said, shooting myself in the foot.

“Fuck golf,” he said and rolled on top of me. His cock was hard and looking for a wet spot; he found it with ease, I was gushing now as he entered me. Taking long deep strokes like he knows I enjoy, we fucked. Normally I have to play with myself but I was so wound up from the earlier activity I felt I was close, I hoped I could come before he did. But that wasn’t a problem. He was so deep in me, I lifted one leg up and he rocked my g-spot. I was in heaven and wasn’t thinking about getting off at all when the orgasm ripped through my body. God, it was so good. I stroked his sexy muscular arms as my pussy gave up to his cock.

“Fuck, I came babe. I came hard. God, I love your cock. Why don’t we do this more, did we just get old?”

“You don’t normally sleep nude, and I don’t usually get an off the hook blowjob like that,” he said. He was still now. Deep inside me, I loved the look in his eyes. I knew my hair was trash, no makeup, I’m sure I had bags under my eyes. But he saw none of the flaws.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too, you’re the hottest woman alive,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at. You going to finish banging me?”

“Can’t. Piss hard-on. I’m bound up. But I loved watching you come. I got mine earlier anyway.”

“Ok, let’s shower together and you can piss, then breakfast.”

And that’s what we did. The eggs sat quietly in the fridge for another day. They cost $3.45 but the advice I got from the hooker that morning was priceless. She was right. He was easy to please. God, he loved blowjobs given out at random. Most of the time I sucked him for a few minutes and then he went down on me, and we fucked. I felt like we were back on track. I keep my eye on just the one bulge these days. The one I can have whenever I want.

All that shit I thought would turn him on, all the shit I put myself through, was unnecessary. He just wanted me, the woman he married. Crazy and sexual, like when we dated. To feel like I needed him, like he was sexy. I guess men and women aren’t that different after all.