The Quean of Wales

“Sarah, Are you ready? The traffic is going to be awful if we don’t leave soon”. Paul was in his usual high state of anxiety, as he is whenever we tried to go on holiday.  

This time though was unusual, a rare long weekend away with my in-laws providing childcare.  

"Yes, almost, just don’t forget we need to pop in and see Kate on the way past. Give me five minutes” I said. I hurriedly finished stuffing clothes into my bag, grabbed it and got halfway down the stairs before retreating back to our bedroom and grabbing a washbag from my bedside cabinet. Don’t want to forget that! I shoved it in my bag, then went downstairs, checked all the windows, put my shoes on and stood by the front door. 

“Well come on then, I’m ready, where are you!?” I called, knowing this would annoy Paul as he had been waiting for me and was now elsewhere. He appeared, grabbed my bag from me as I opened the door and put it in the boot of the car. 

I got in the passenger seat as he closed the boot a little too aggressively and got into the drivers seat. “Relax, we’ve got ages, no plans tonight” I said. 

He took a breath. “I’m sorry, I just...I’m apprehensive”. 

“I know. I am too, but we’re doing so well, let’s do our best to just enjoy ourselves, let things happen as they will?” I said. That innocent little statement would bite me on the bum a bit later. 

Paul and I had had something of a rough patch. Well, I had had the time of my life while he remained at home. Was it cheating? I’d told him about everything, who I was flirting with, fucking with, taking drugs with, edging with. I took complete advantage over his love for me, but I needed something in my life, and I wasn’t getting it from him. 

I focused on my career, getting promoted, travelling, getting a powerful new job with even more travel, while he stayed at home, effectively reduced to being a house husband. In all that time, I never had sex with anyone else, never got emotionally involved with anyone else, except briefly with Louise before she ghosted me, so strictly speaking, I didn’t physically cheat on him, but I doubt he saw it like that. 

But he knew I was desperately unhappy, he knew much of the source of my unhappiness was his lack of desire for me, and was willing to let me explore my sexuality as long as it stayed far away from our family life. I took full advantage it, and I honestly think it saved our marriage.  

But after a few years of getting pretty much what I wanted, I still very much wanted him, and he still very much wanted me, so after some brutal honesty and many tears we decided that I would continue exploring some of these things, but that I would always tell him what I was going to do, and who with, and that actual sex was completely off the cards with anyone apart from him. This left me free to chat, flirt with and occasionally meet friends on special occasions. As long as I didn’t have sex it was acceptable. Mostly it was mutual edging and denial related play anyway.  I even told him about my submissive male ‘Justin’ in Berlin, which he was shocked and then amused by, but Justin wasn’t allowed to even touch me, let alone anything else.  

For Paul’s part, I was quite happy for him to indulge himself in any way he wanted, I wouldn’t have minded in the slightest if he fucked another woman, as long as he told me, in fact I found the idea quite hot, but his lack of sex drive and pathological vanilla-ness meant he wasn’t even open to considering this. 

Reconciled, at least partially, we had arranged a weekend by the sea in Wales to try to spend some affectionate time together. I had booked a suite in a lovely spa hotel, it even had a copper roll top bath that I was very much looking forward to relaxing in. My mucky brain was putting thoughts into my head... 

Paul drove off while I was fantasising about roll top baths. We stopped at my friend Kate’s house briefly, Paul stayed in the car and Kate grinned as I hugged her goodbye, shouting out to Paul that she hoped he had a wicked time. 

We made small talk on the journey but soon settled into a comfortable silence, listening to the radio as we usually did on long drives. After sitting in a traffic jam on the motorway for what felt like hours, we briefly stopped for lunch at a services. The rest of the journey was blessedly uneventful, and traffic free. 

We arrived at the hotel around 4pm and it was absolutely glorious, a spa and as I had hoped a copper roll top bath. But it wasn’t in the bathroom, it was in the bedroom! And positioned to allow a view of the sea right from the balcony doors. I loved it” 

 They had even left a bottle of champagne on ice, which Paul opened and poured us a glass each while I ran the bath. 

Paul sat on the edge of the bed and handed me my champagne, I took a sip, then almost drained the glass. “More!” I smiled, and as he was getting more, I let my dress fall to the floor, took off my underwear with my back to him and  

Walked to the bath, leaning over it to test the water, my naked bum pointing right at him. I climbed into the bath, let myself slide down and sighed, it was delightful. 

I gestured to Paul to bring my refilled glass over, took a sip and then held it out and said cheers. We clinked glasses and he went back and sat on the bed, watching me as I again slid under the water, up to my neck. I sipped some more, it really was very good. I asked for another top up. Paul came over to get my glass. 

“Why don’t you take your clothes off too?” I asked. He looked a bit awkward as he always does, but he smiled shyly before putting the glasses down on the table. He pulled off his t-shirt, pushed down his jeans and stepped out of them elegantly. I wish I could balance like he can, but I’m clumsy as fuck. He took off his underwear equally elegantly and bought my glass back over to me. 

I sat up and leaned over, pushing my breasts against the side of the bath. I reached out for the glass with one hand, and gently cupped his balls with the other. I sipped, and played with his balls until his cock started to get hard, then I looked up at him, smiling, took a larger sip and held the glass up to him. He took it and with my now free hand, I took his hardening cock and guided it to my mouth. I hadn’t swallowed the champagne yet, and could feel it fizzing in my mouth. I hoped I’d be able to let him feel it fizzing on his cock so I tried to get it into my mouth without spilling anything. I failed, champagne poured from my mouth down my chin and neck as I took his cock into it, I swore under my breath but kept going. I’m an enthusiastic but very amateur cocksucker, I had a reputation as the blow job queen when I was a teenager, but I know now, several decades later, that other women are far better at it than I am. 

I may not be the best but he was rock hard now, groaning as I used both my hands and my mouth on him, always gently, slowly, I wanted him to enjoy it but being a denial slut, I certainly didn’t want him cumming just yet, I wanted to edge him like I edge myself, make him horny and keep him that way. I sucked and licked and stroked him indulgently for a couple of minutes until I could feel his cock start to twitch, and the moan that escaped his lips told me he was close. I let go with my hands, and slowly gave him a few gentle sucks with my mouth, my head bobbing backward and forward in what I hoped was a sexy way, before withdrawing, and looking up with him with wet lips  

“More of that later if you’re good darling, I don’t want you losing interest too soon!”. He made a noise of gentle displeasure as I kissed the end of his cock, which really was begging for attention.  

I sat back a little and looked at my husband, who was in pretty good shape for his age, standing there, naked, with a raging hardon and a glass of champagne in each hand.  

"You look great,” I said, reaching for my glass. “Would you like to wash my back?” 

He smiled, put down his glass and took the sponge I offered him, kneeling by the side of the bath as he started to wash my back with the sponge, gently and slowly. It had been years since he’d been intimate with me like this and I really loved it. I sighed in pleasure, and barely noticed one of my hands creeping between my legs. 

After a few minutes of this I leaned back and kissed him drowsily. He kissed me back with a gentle passion I also hadn’t received in years and whispered that he was hungry before pulling away and saying he was going to take a shower and then we should go out for dinner. Men!