Phone Sex - The Husband

I really really like to audible stimulation. From a low moan, to a mewling, to a gasp, to a rich fantasy with lots of detail.

A couple of days ago I send her some naughty pictures with me in a fedora, an open shirt, boots and a smile. I found that coordinating the self-timer with my somewhat camera-shy unit kind of difficult. Out of habit, I tensed my abdominal muscles even though I no longer have what could be described as a gut to suck in. I ended up with an odd goofy expression in most of the shots. I resolved to to better. On a friends blog, she mentioned that something about a man's pants down around his ankles, exposed and vulnerable excited her so I was thinking of taking a picture or video clip like that.

I was just so engaged in visual and physical acrobatics when my wife called. I explained what I was doing and mentioned that I wasn't getting the full attention and cooperation of the star of my production in that relatively cold room, and could she make like a fluffer, verbally.

She did an began some description of her time with the new dolphin vibe, and engaged in a little digital enhancement on her end which improved the sound quality by the moans her digits stroking her pussy elicited. I got a couple of video clips and thought I was close to er, drenching the camera at a couple of these 15 second clip intervals, but found that when ever I got into my left brain to set the camera, I'd have to begin the build-up mentally again. Physically the actor was on stage ready to perform, but he tends to like to give very long performances and isn't very good at fill in work and quick action stunts.

My wife shifted gears a bit and began to spin a lovely tale that featured some fictionalized version of some our online acquaintances. This encouraged me over to the twin bed in my small, spartan work-camp domicile. I kept the camera at hand and occasionally lazily shot a picture here a video clip there, but used a bit of the artistic right side of the brain. This didn't seem to cause the stop and start feeling of that tantalizingly delicious sequence of sensations that seems to build, and tickle, and constrict and engorge, and eventually release in a usually barely anticipated orgasms. "I was cleaning it and it went off!" always seemed an apt description to me.

This time, camera more or less ready, set to vid clip, aimed in the general direction, I watched fascinated as this time, with her melodic whispers and lush story caused me to as best I can describe it, spring a leak. I didn't feel quite the usually holding back then surging urgency. It was nice and gentle and building to a gentle pleasant liquid warmth. It was an amazing amount of pr-ejaculated, forming at the tip then gently tickling down the head, hanging on the ridge then racing down the shaft. I watched in the view screen amazed this was on the camera until I realized it was on the camera (screen) not in the camera (recorded.) I hit the button and got a 15 second clip. I am burying this clip in a much older post, lest the sight of a cock in the post without a mouth on or near it offends those, who like I have an irrational revulsion to such. I mean why is it fascinating to watch balls tighten then an explosion of all over a cum-slut's outstretched tongue and face, but by it self it seems, well, gay? I dunno, but the feeling is what it is.

The night before that we had had some conversations that may have violated some obscure vulgarity clause in F.C.C. regulations, I hadn't completed so there was some stored up potential energy and matter in the flow. It came out thicker and with slightly more volume than is typical for me.

I remember a sperm count test..the girl actually said to me "Is that all." I wasn't being tested for quantity, but quality. Feeling small I wanted to say, that maybe some got absorbed by the long length of their journey out. A surgery and siring 4 more kids since has convinced me that guys that brag about how they will flood you with copious quantities of cum might have more protein on offer, but a little dab will do you as it were, procreatively speaking.

I thought she had heard me when I told her, "...And now, SLEEP..". when I came. Evidently she did not realize I was 'done' so to speak. Tirelessly, she weaved a plot that had me involved in the voyeuristic and exhibitionist aspects to the story. She teased on as I dressed, pulled on boots, clomped down the 100 yard length of the hall, across the gravel over to the cyber cafe and uploaded the clip. She said later why didn't you stop me when you came. I explained that being aroused again as I walked was thoroughly enjoyable as was the tale itself. as she finished I had my ear speaker on its lowest setting and I hope she wasn't entertaining the troops as it were.

So I stripped; she talked; I came. I uploaded a clip.

Fingers or Tongue? - The Husband

True, the fingertips with their friction ridges and high concentration of sensory nerves enables me to feel your "... flesh, the soft wet satin of your pussy". You fail to consider that in addition to the tactile sensation there is also the element of taste, and fragrance.

Tell you what, How about I finger you to say your first half dozen orgasms tonight and then follow with some cunnilingus for the next six? Then we can compare notes.

I do feel a little guilty I confess. You do seem to enjoy your pussy, like when you had that intense orgasm in under a minute today, just because you can. It cannot compare though to the joy one gets from getting your face down in a freshly scrubbed one and performing a little pussy worship.

I'll have to find you some of your own to enjoy some day.

Oh and by the way - we got a Google hit today for knob polishing. Wouldn't want to disappoint our fans, so if you aren't to tired after a dozen or so orgasms.....

Edit:
Oh for the record the orgasms from the tongue were louder it seems than the ones from fingers. Also she was able to count off the first 6 orgasms from fingers, but when I switched to tongue she cheated and continued to hum along rather than announcing the orgasm, so its possible that she stole a couple of extra orgasms in the middle somewhere. It even out though because I cheated to, I didn't just use my tongue, I did get my teeth involved too.

I cant keep up writing about it..The Husband.

I don't know whether writing about it is driving the sex or the other way around, and frankly I don't care. We haven't done it with such rabbit-like intensity since probably the first year of marriage. It is really great to be actually sated at times. For me that is saying something.

Last night after some sort of session she was on her laptop and I on mine. She could see I was in the midst of one of my epic posts on my medium vanilla blog and said, "I can tell you are sated." I asked how was that? She said that she could tell because the toddler was asleep (and miraculously in her own bed!) and I showed no signs of initiating anything.

I allowed that I was a bit satisfied but wouldn't go so far as to categorize my level of bliss to completely sated. I finished my entry, (which, ironically, was about starting yet another blog on a completely unrelated subject) and rolled her way. I distracted her from her laptop with ease and in short order a frenzy of motion translated once again into the administration of some ass-slapping. At one point it was barely a little more pain than she was wanting, but two pats later on her now red ass she settled into the burn and actually asked for more. She was braced with her hands forward against the wall and I was slamming into her. It felt great,and from her ever increasing volume, I sense it was good for her too. I had to direct her to bury her face in the pillow lest she wake the neighbors.

After that, its kind of a blur to me, I am not sure what all we did. After I came, I remember through my sex-induced sleepy haze getting a back rub and more, that involved some tongue and a finger in ways and positions that were far less than dominant. It wasn't that she switched, more that I was pliable, as usual post coitus a little ticklish but not overly so. It was nice to have the contrast. Kind of like galloping the last hundred yards, drenched in sweat like a race horse and gently jogging another lap with endomorphisms flowing like a breeze on my overheated skin.

Already today, we have had a couple of sessions in what really should have been not at all enough time. IN a sleepy/horny fugue state this morning I remember reaching over and finding her still wearing a nightie and no panties. I teased and probed until she presented like a bitch in heat and used that position again that I described earlier as a lazy one where I lie crossway on the bed and ease into her. I did ease into her but there was nothing lazy about the effort.

I had a weird grasp on her from my hand that had been fondling her. My thumb faced up and was hooked deeply in the hood over her clit, my other fingers gathered flesh from above and the whole arrangement made a handle of sorts that both pinched her clit hard in the middle of this handle but gave me absolute control of her squirming as I pounded into her. She had to leave after I had forced several orgasms from her throbbingly abused cunt.

She came home for a brief break from work to get some breakfast, and I bent her forward to grab the counter, stripped her lower half and tried to finish what I had started earlier. Despite the fact that the toddler was occupied sort of in her high chair and couldn't see mom from her angle, I found that her quizzical look at me made me feel guilty so I abandoned that project.

I think that catches me up on my maniacal need to disclose every detail of each fuck-fest in a timely manner. I really need to devise a form that I can just check off boxes and record duration intensity and the like. Or just accept the fact that I can fuck better than I can type.