My phone pinged. Sarah. A silly GIF of a cat blowing out candles on a cake.

‘Happy birthday, hunni. I’m preparing your favourite meal tonight. Hope you’re hungry.’ A wink emoji.

A goofy smile formed on my lips, and a golden glow of joyful love radiated from my heart. Married for just 6 months, and each day more blissful than the last. I thanked my lucky stars that sweet, sexy Sarah was my wife. What had I done to deserve her?

‘Ravenous,’ I replied, ‘I’ll be home at 6 on the dot.’

I sneaked out of work a little early and hurried home.

As I approached the house, an unfamiliar car was backing out of our drive. A BMW coupe, from the rearview mirror of which hung a pair of mini boxing gloves in the colours of the Jamaican flag. The driver was a shaven-headed jet-black bodybuilder, his passenger a dreadlocked Rasta. They caught my eye and shared a laugh as the car went roaring past.

The key was trembling in my hand as I let myself into the house. The ground floor was in darkness.

“You’re eating up here tonight, Paul,” her carefree voice drifted down from our bedroom.

Scrambling urgently out of my clothes, I raced upstairs to the ‘dining room’, my tiny penis bouncing wildly, fully erect at its three-inch maximum size.

My sweet young bride was on the marital bed. On all fours. Nude, apart from high-heeled shoes. Each of her plump buttocks bore the bright red outline of a massive handprint.

I jumped onto the bed and rolled onto my back. My mouth was watering; the intoxicating aroma of the freshly prepared feast filled the room.

She carefully lifted one knee over my body and positioned herself above me.

“Before the main course, let’s start with an amuse-bouche, my love,” and she let 3 drops of masculine jus drip down onto my tongue. I closed my eyes to better savour the flavour. Thick, chewy, and full-bodied, his potency was evident. A stark contrast to the thin gruel that dribbled out of my thimble on the rare occasions Sarah allowed me to ejaculate.

“Are you ready for the main course, birthday boy? Beef curtains, served rare, in a rich Jamaican cream sauce.”

I placed my hands on her beautiful peach and gently pulled her down onto my face.

Her bare young mound was glistening wet. Her outer labia splayed wide, her inner lips swollen and raw. She'd evidently taken a biblical pounding. I opened my mouth wide to try to encompass her entire vulva.

“Greedy boy,” she whispered.

I munched on her cunt. Chewing, kissing, licking and sucking on her meaty folds. I thrust my tongue up into her pussy, and this prompted a huge serving of the hot cream sauce to pour down out of her, a torrent of seed cascading from her uterus, her cervix, indeed her entire vaginal canal must have been flooded with the muscle stud's emission. I devoured every tasty morsel.

“What a terrible hostess I am! I forgot to give you a glass of champagne!” She subtly shifted her hips to position her engorged, pink clitoral bean directly on my mouth.

I took it between my lips and began to suck on her erect button like a baby on the bottle. Swirling my tongue around it soon produced two spasms of ecstasy that made her tremble and shake. As the third orgasmic eruption approached, she raised herself slightly, spread her lips with 2 fingers, and unleashed a gushing squirt of golden bladder wine straight down my throat. I rolled her warm secretion around my mouth, savouring the delicate flavour and floral bouquet.

When the flow abated, she dismounted my face and turned 180 degrees.

“Paul, it’s time for dessert. Caribbean custard.”

From this new angle, I had a close-up of her beautiful bottom. Her crack was wet with lube, and the cheeks inflamed and glowing from the bull's hands where he’d spanked her.

She pushed her battered bottom down onto my face, cutting out all light, all sound, and even air. My tongue shot up her anal lovetube, licking all around it, and then further, deeper, into her inner sanctum filled with a generous serving of Rasta’s salty custard which poured down into my mouth and face, our bedsheets soaked and sodden, my appetite thoroughly sated.

“Oh Sarah, what a delicious meal. What have I done to deserve you?”