When a wife's criticism cuts too deeply, one man decides to make a change.
In the course of history, scientific breakthroughs have been made with the promise of changing life as we know it. Few actually achieve their intended purpose, giving little more than false hope only to be ripped away by an unexpected and unintentional side effect. But for Dr. Oliver Goodson, that hope was still quite alive; so alive in fact, that he could taste it. His boss – Bradford Way – had vetoed using any company funds for the project on numerous occasions, calling the project “costly and stupid.” But Oliver's private time was his alone, and the garage of his home had transformed into a laboratory. Days became weeks, and months turned into years. Compound after compound was finalized and then rejected. Too thick. Too thin. Too acidic. Too basic. Too salty. Too bitter. On and on, the man toiled until finally one night, at precisely 9:18pm, the final product stabilized. With shaking hands, he filled a hypodermic needle and shuffled out of his pants. He took a deep breath and plunged the needle into his right testicle, filling it with half the concoction before repeating the process with the other.
A little discomfort was well worth the advancement of science.
Emily Goodson had long ago grown accustomed to sleeping alone. She didn't like to remember the first year of her marriage, as it only served as a reminder to how much things had changed. In the beginning, Oliver was kind, caring, and passionate. He became an addiction, her own drug that she had no desire to quit, and she knew without a doubt that it was the same for him. The married couple were insatiable in every sense of the word. But in the ensuing years, things had changed. It was to be expected of course, but never to this degree.
Oliver was still the caring and patient man he'd always been. But he was distant, and Emily had no idea how to bridge the gap. He loved her – she never doubted that – but for years now, his work had taken precedence over her. She never blamed him; such was the life of a scientist's wife, and it was his passion for his work that had attracted her to him in the first place. But she wondered sometimes about what might have been, and she hated herself for it.
In other words, sexual intimacy – or a lack of it – with her husband was a problem, and had been for a while. A drawer full of unworn negligees and other lingerie she had bought with Oliver in mind now concealed the trove of vibrators, dildos, and pornographic material that were now her closest friends. It wasn't because Oliver couldn't get it up. He was much to young for erectile dysfunction, and if his father was any indication, he was in no danger of ever needing a Viagra preion. It was her fault, at least partly. She hadn't stopped caring about her body. Emily had kept herself in good shape in the hope that Oliver would notice her again, and it showed. She stood 5'5 and kept herself at 110lbs. Honey brown hair fell in natural curls to the middle of her back; plenty to reign in when Oliver was feeling especially dominant. And when he wanted something more fleshy to hold onto as he rammed her from behind, Emily had a pair of moderately large breasts with fat pink nipples for him to pinch and hold onto. Plenty of crunches kept her stomach flat, and her well-ridden bicycle ensured her ass stayed tight and round. She remembered fondly the many times the combination of her long lean legs and tight ass in a pair of Daisy Dukes had distracted Oliver to the point of taking her forcefully against a wall.
No, it wasn't her body, Emily knew. It was a problem all too common in couples. She could have relented just a little more often and at least tried to swallow. She couldn't help her natural reaction though, to gag on the warm and thick goo that filled her mouth. It was how she'd always been, from her very first time. But Oliver's was especially sickening; thick and slightly lumpy, yellowish, with a bleachy aroma and a truly horrid aftertaste. But marriage was about give and take, wasn't it? If only she'd known just how important it was to Oliver!
A door downstairs slammed violently, shaking the woman from her thoughts. Elephantine steps thundered up the stairs. Frightened, Emily jumped up and was halfway to the closet when the bedroom door slammed open and bounced off the wall. On the threshold stood her husband, hair wild, eyes mad, and pants undone. So shocked at her appearance, she didn't think to move when Oliver rushed across the room and swept her up in a bear hug and spun her around.
“I've done it,” he murmured into her hair. “I've done it. Its over.”
“Done what?” Emily shrieked against his chest. “What's done Oliver? What have you done?”
“The project!” He sat her down gently, still holding her by the shoulders. By the look in her eyes, she was obviously supposed to know which project he was referring to.
“What project? The one in the garage?” He nodded excitedly. “You never explained that to me!”
“Right! I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you about it in case I failed, but now I haven't and that means I can tell you -”
“Slow down!” Emily watched her husband practically bounce like an overstimulated puppy. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Only the biggest scientific achievement of the century! I have the answer to a problem bigger than ED! This transcends Viagra, Levitra, Cialis... You know what? Words won't do this justice, you have to see it!”
Quick as a flash, Emily found herself in a bridal carry. She was opening her mouth to object but instead a frenzied shriek escaped as she sailed through the air and landed on the bed. Just as quickly, her silky pajama pants disappeared and cool air washed over her privates. In the process, Oliver's loose pants had pooled around his ankles, revealing his tented boxers.
“Oh my...” That was all Emily got out before her husband parted her folds and put his talented tongue to work. Like a starving man, Oliver ate her pussy with wild abandon. His tongue flashed over her clit and then was sucked into his mouth, his nose breathing heavily on the tiny landing strip of hair on her mound. Her own fluids mingled with his saliva and he delighted in the nearly forgotten flavor of his wife's arousal. As she squealed and came, he realized that she had not been the only one to suffer from his self-imposed exile. He had deprived himself of this flower – this jewel – for far too long.
All thoughts of her husband's project had been obliterated with that one explosive, mind-numbing climax. Nothing could compare to Oliver's tongue stabbing over and over into her drenched tunnel like a knife through hot butter, not even her finest (and most expensive) vibrator. She may have been using it earlier, but from the way she was cumming, Emily might as well have not been using it at all. Her eyes were filled with lights, and electricity ran through her veins in the way that only Oliver could make it. When she could breathe again, she dragged Oliver up to her face by his hair. They kissed, not as man and wife, but like horny teenagers demanding sexual satisfaction. Their passion and desire was as tangible as the flavor of Emily on Oliver's face and tongue. Emily flipped the pair over, grinding her bare crotch against the hot lump in her husband's boxers.
“Your turn,” she growled, slithering backward like a sensual python. After removing his boxers she stood up and yanked her top over her head, her braless tits popping out. 36C, Oliver mused fondly, with still no hint of sag or stretching in sight. For as long as they'd been together, Emily had never worn a bra for support; if her mother was any indication, she'd never need to. With her brunette curls tousled and falling randomly about her face, there was only one word Oliver could find to describe his wife.
“You are an angel,” he breathed.
“Really? Do angels do this?” Emily dragged her tongue across his scrotum, inhaling and ingesting the scent of a long day. “Or this?” She moved her tongue around, washing his entire groin with her saliva. “Or... this?” And she slid her hot mouth over the crown. Oliver groaned in delight. As she swallowed more and more of the thick cock, she giggled inwardly. Just because she didn't swallow didn't mean she couldn't suck. Five boyfriends and her husband couldn't be wrong.
Watching his wife's lips approach the base of his cock, Oliver promised himself that he'd never again return to his hand. Despite many years spent with 'Ms. Right,” Ms. Right did not have a tongue swirling around his head, licking and fluttering like his organ was a tasty ice cream cone. Ms. Right did have varying degrees of tightness, but she didn't hum or make that delightful little 'mmm' sound that Emily did. And while Ms. Right could hold him on edge for hours, she didn't have a hot throat that could bring him off in seconds.
“Fuck babe, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!” Emily heard Oliver's warning but kept going, acknowledging him with a slow 'mmhmm.' This was it. Tonight, she was swallow her husband's discharge, for the sake of her marriage. For the man she loved more than life itself. For the past years and hopefully for the ones to –
Who the fuck was she kidding? She couldn't do this? The organ in her throat swelled dangerously and she panicked, setting off a rapid chain of events. Emily moved to dislodge herself from her husband's cock; however, Oliver had anticipated this and placed a firm hand on the back of her skull, making sure the head of his cock was lying on her tongue. She squealed in fright and tried to free herself, unknowingly using both her hands and her tongue to try and force the intruder out of her mouth. The vibration from her squealing, her tongue mashing against his piss slit, and the sensation of slipping free from her tight throat caused the thing Emily had feared most, and Oliver's cock began unloading right against her tongue.
Oliver watched Emily's eyes widen in horror and rage before it quickly turned to surprise. He released the death grip on her skull, knowing that there was no longer any danger of Emily spitting out his pulsating meat. In fact, she was now greedily sucking down every spurt that rocketed into her mouth. Gone was the thick, slightly lumpy ooze that had filled her mouth with its disgusting flavor. Now Emily's taste buds were covered in ropes of silky cream, not nearly as thick, but not watery. It was just slimy enough to stick to her taste buds with its pleasing flavor long after the flow was gone. And there was so much of it! Emily gulped several times, sending the precious fluid on a one way trip to her stomach.
For the very first time, Oliver watched his wife nurse the final drops of cum from his cock. Sure that she had everything, Emily leaned back and presented her white-goo covered tongue to her husband before swallowing and smacking her lips. She crawled back up the bed and started firing off questions.
“... Sour cream and cheddar?” Oliver finished. “Yes it was, babe. I got the inspiration from when you gave up your favorite chips.”
“Keeping it simple, I figured out just what gave semen its flavor and consistency. I also did a lot of surveying, trying to figure out what the most favorable consistency was. From there, I had to construct a compound – from scratch – that could tailor semen to my needs. Honestly, the surveying and building the compound was what took so long.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” Oliver sighed.
“Like I said, I didn't want you to get your hopes up for nothing. You mean the world to me, and I couldn't keep asking you to eat it when you obviously found it completely disgusting. I mean, remember that fight we had?”
Emily had all but forgotten that episode, their first true fight as a married couple. In the heat of the moment, she had called his semen 'the most sickening thing she'd ever had in her mouth, and that was including the five earthworms her brother force-fed her as a child.' Hurt had instantly bloomed on Oliver's face and filled her with regret, but before she could apologize he had left for work. That night was the first time she had found herself locked out of the garage. Now, she realized that the steely glint in Oliver's eyes wasn't from barely suppressed rage, but fiery determination that had led to this.
“That hurt,” he continued, “but ultimately, you were right. The stuff was disgusting, and not just from a male standpoint. Everything about you turns me on Emily, and I need to be the same for you.”
“You know,” Emily cooed, “most guys would have just baited me with diamonds or maybe built me a spice rack.” Oliver snorted. “But not you. You flavored your jizz for me Oliver, and I think that's the most romantic, sci-fi creepy thing anyone's ever done.” Emily straddled her husband, feeling the life pumping through his cock. “Next time though, do me one favor, m'kay?”
“Anything for you, doll.”
“Just talk to me, m'kay?” Emily slid her dripping pussy down Oliver's cock.
Needless to say, Dr. Oliver Goodson failed to show up for work for the first time in ten years.