The internet would have us believe that it takes naughty lingerie or fancy sex toys to spice up your marriage, but the biggest boost to my wife’s and my sex life came in the form of a new piece of furniture.

It wasn’t that our sex life was bad. We did the deed regularly and we both got off every time.

It was more like we had gotten too good at it. We both knew exactly how the other liked it and what they needed to get off, so we had become way too efficient. It was sort of like masturbating with another person — it felt good, but the thrill of fucking just wasn’t there anymore.

Enter our new ottoman. We’d bought an overpriced furniture-store chair a few years before, and one day my wife, Jane, randomly decided it would be better with a matching ottoman. She asked if I wanted to look at it online first, but I smiled and nodded, only half listening to her, and told her to order whatever she wanted.

When it showed up, our new ottoman was a massive square clunky thing that dominated the living room — not at all like the small footrest I had pictured when she told me about it. I hated it

“I think we should take it back,” I told her, mentally noting that our conversations had become ruthlessly efficient as well. We didn’t sugarcoat things with one another anymore.

“I like it,” she countered, flopping down to sit on it.

“It’s bigger than the chair it’s supposed to go with!”

“Well, technically, it’s meant for a couch, but I thought it would be nice to have another place to sit as well as a footrest,” Jane said.

Is there anything less sexy than discussing furniture?

Just as that thought entered my mind, a funny thing happened. Jane lay back across the ottoman, perhaps trying to illustrate how comfortable it was. Seeing her splayed out in a sundress, with her legs parted just a little, in the middle of the living room, struck me as somehow indecent. It was like a shot of adrenaline directly to my dick.

Jane was still saying something about the best way to configure a living room, but I was now single-mindedly focused on getting her panties off. I nodded at whatever she was saying, but moved closer, fantasies of fucking my wife sprawled across the ridiculously huge ottoman now consuming my thoughts.

I stood between her legs, pushing them wider apart before dropping down to my knees in front of her. She must have thought I was simply getting a better look at the ottoman because she jolted in surprise when I slid my hands up between her thighs and under her dress. I rubbed her clit and pussy over the soft fabric of her panties, delighting in how quickly a wet spot began to form.

She tried to sit up, but I nudged her back down, not nearly ready to move on to other things. I was enjoying this and wanted to take my time for once.

I slowly peeled her panties off, sliding them down her legs and letting them drop to the floor. I spread her legs wider, taking a second to appreciate the sight of her perfect pussy, bare and wet for me.

I leaned forward, and, as I suspected, the ottoman was the perfect height for me to comfortably lick her pussy — which was good because I planned to be there for a while. When my tongue made contact with her clit, she whimpered and tensed before relaxing into me and moaning as I found a stroking rhythm against her most sensitive spot.

I spread her cheeks apart and got a good look at her wet pussy before driving my dick into her.

It took a few minutes, but she came with my mouth at her pussy, pressing her thighs together around my head and arching her back at the intensity of the orgasm. She tried to sit up again, but I coaxed her to lie back down with one hand, not bothering to lift my tongue from her pussy.

After three more orgasms, Jane had pulled her feet up to brace them against the ottoman, giving me better access, and she was no longer making any effort to get up. I slowly rose to my knees and was delighted to find her limp with pleasure, cheeks flushed and dress bunched around her waist. The ottoman was huge, but not quite wide enough, so her head hung over the edge. Inspiration struck again.

I dropped my shorts and underwear, letting my rock-hard dick spring loose. She watched me with a naughty gleam in her eyes as I circled around to the other side of our new piece of furniture. She knew exactly what I was going to do and licked her lips before opening her mouth wide in invitation.

I pushed my cock into her mouth, savoring the wet heat and the tight pressure of her lips. I thrust forward, and could feel her tongue stroking the base of my shaft. As I slid in and out a few times, I decided the ottoman was the perfect height for this as well. With her head tilted back over the edge, she was relaxed and her throat was wide-open for me.

I thrust forward a little deeper, hesitating as she gagged a little, but she reached up to pull me forward again. I didn’t think I’d ever been this deep in her throat before, and it was fucking amazing. Her throat was squeezing the head of my cock as she cupped my balls, holding me there like she was actually enjoying me face-fucking her. Jane’s blowjobs were usually so polite and tidy. Nothing to complain about, but they had nothing on the raw intensity that she was unleashing now. She was gasping and choking, but never let me pull back.

Jane was going to make me come in her throat, but I wanted to be buried in her sweet pussy when I got off, so I pushed her hands away and flipped her onto all fours with her ass facing me. I spread her cheeks apart and got a good look at her wet pussy before parting her folds and driving my dick into her.

I wanted to keep going, but I came after four deep thrusts, teasing her ass with my thumb as I immediately began to fantasize about what else we could do right here in the middle of the living room.

“Still want to take it back?” she asked breathlessly, laughter in her voice.

I slapped her ass playfully and said, “It’ll be hard to return now that you got come all over it!”

We grabbed my shorts and cleaned up the mess, and to this day we have our best sex on that ottoman.