The 27 Year Old Virgin. - The Geek

Sitting here tonight watching "The 40 Year Old Virgin, we laughed at the movie, but as much more at the recognition. Although to really be us, Andy would have to have married Beth.

The scene at the end where Andy lasts all of one minute, but is immediately able to go again is exactly how our wedding night went. We barely managed to stay for the reception with smiles and glazed looks of lust in our eyes. We did something really smart about the honeymoon. We had a room downtown near a University for the wedding night with plane reservations to Cancun scheduled for the next morning. Decent room but I remember little but maybe the bedspread I laid her across. As soon as we could politely leave we fled, straight to the room.

Friends of ours had gifted us some sparkling apple juice, crystal stemware and a basket of fruit-flavored pussy sundae fixings. I poured the beverage, which being non-alcoholic loosened me up not at all. I was, however, giddy with anticipation. I slipped her out of her the dress she wore from the reception to reveal some really hot bridal lingerie that I had helped her pick out. A long-line bra, a garter belt, crotchless panties, seamed white stockings a white garter, and kinky satin covered 4" stiletto pumps with pearl chains under the arch. Seeing the exposed pussy was by now familiar territory, as we hadn't been as good as I had hoped for during a fairly long engagement. I dove in head first and had her writhing when I remembered the basket of treats. I stopped (being the clueless nerd that I was) and opened a jar of cherry topping. Smearing a generous dollop I dove in headfirst like the fat kid at an eating contest. As mentioned, she is easily orgasmic so my fairly clumsy attempts brought her to orgasm a time or two undoubtedly.

Not really sure how I made the transition from cunnilingus to intercourse, but I adjudged her sufficiently ready. I dropped my pants and clumsily mounted her. I rutted like a virgin in a whorehouse, cumming just about as quickly. I think I managed at least 3, maybe 5 strokes, she remembers 2. She had the biggest smile on her face as she thanked me for my cherry flavored cherry. I asked her if it was worth the wait. "No" she responded, "we could have been fucking for months!" She cleaned the cherry sauce off my chin, her ear, and did the best she could running a brush through her sticky hair. With a cheesy smile on my face and a smug one on hers we walked hand in hand across the street to a landmark of kitschy 'Italian' hyperbole. I think I had the baked spaghetti with Italian sausage. I was feeling carnivorous and needed to carbo-load. (I don't think I mentioned previously but I had been a distance runner, lots of stamina so she had high hopes for round two.) I over-tipped, the share the wealth joy of the newly-laid

Round two went better. Though no stallion, I was making incremental progress on duration and technique.

Over-tipped the cabbie, managed to keep my cock in my pants the whole 5 miles to the airport.

We managed to be fairly chaste on the first leg of the flight but there was lots of giggling sexy whispers about the mile high club and asking for a blanket. After a lot of sexual tension and ear-play in the Houston Airport on a brief non-lay-over we boarded the next leg. On the next flight we conspired to meet in the lavatory. She went first, and I joined her moments later, fooling no one. Despite two previous deliveries in the previous 12 hours or so, I came through again in fairly short order he perched with one leg up on the sink, me entering her standing up. Wet as she was combined with the remnants of a decade and a half of seminal fluid back-up made enough fluid to attract the attention of gravity and we actually left a bit of a slippery spot on the floor.

I left first and could see the coming problem, there was a line formed...oops. I muttered, she isn't feeling well... She joined me later red-faced..."You left me to face those people!!!!"


We stayed at the Marriot's Casa Magna Resort. A place we really couldn't afford then and certainly not now. Marble floors exactly like in the movie. Fresh towels to guard against the jungle humidity were delivered several times a day...we used them all. By the third day, her abused pussy was swollen. I had a lot of fucking to catch up on. I was determined that by the time we got home the majority of her sexual history would be with my cock buried to the hilt in her. I came close. By the third day, I was going down the hall for ice. Not for the beverages. She actually had to ice it down! I never felt such a stud before, or since.

First Fellatio - The Geek

When we met, it was clear to both of us that she was more experienced. Never a shy girl, she was a friendly and giving girl. Knowing they would like it, she liked doing it, and was remarkably libertine about it. She started young and enjoyed something about each of the lucky cocks she fellated in preparation of the first time she blew me.

With me, she was amazed at how long it took me to kiss her, and when I finally did she was reasonably impressed. As a virgin with a limited set of acceptable expressions for affection I had a fair amount of practice at that. We were mutually smitten. She was used to being sexually attractive. I, not so much. I wanted us to "be good". She wanted us to enjoy each other, but not if there were to be regrets. She was patient with my reticence, if a bit frustrated.

What a pair we made. Me, a repressed, guilt-ridden, chronically-masturbating, virginal sex-addict. She, a free-spirited, cock-sucking, cum-swallowing, cheerful, friendly, nymphomaniac.

The first time her lips caressed the head of my cock was electric.

Making out on her ugly green couch, I ground away, dry humping. My raging manhood clawed its way past the waistband of my jockeys and through unbuttoned 501's. I headed north and pressed the head of my cock just below her breasts. Rubbing her sternum seemed in my distorted reality to be less sexual then say, titty-fucking.

Her lips parted in shock to see my cock headed in the direction of her thirsty mouth She later reported thinking: "Oh My..he's really going to do this...." I was thinking I wouldn't and would stop short. Turns out she was right.

I found her mouth too inviting. I advanced until I was tantalizingly (for both of us!) within range of her tongue. It darted out and, quick as a flash, my oral cherry was devoured. That first time, delicious. I had no idea, however, the delights that would have awaited me if I had let her kneel and control the position, the timing, the cadence, the depth...

Oh my the depth. Have I mentioned that my wife can deep-throat like a pro? Amazing to see 6-7 inches of dick, encircled by lips, caressed by back of the tongue and then.... with a wiggle and a gasp.... it sliding slightly curved down the back of her throat. She chins me like an athlete touching the bar , or touching his chest to the pavement.

That first time was tentative, soft, wet licks. Careful not to scare her skittish quarry. I hesitant. Not knowing the details then of her history. Uncertain if in the cold light of morning she would feel regret. As she finally eased her mouth around the head, my few polite thrusts and she was tenderly milking my nectar. The cat in cream smile on her face said a lot.

Does Your Wife Enjoy Fellatio? - The Geek

Recently she was the top of Google for "Is wife enjoying fellatio?" Apparently, not many husband's have wondered this. Google reports only 47,000 possible entries for this query. Interestingly, many entries were about a wife who did not enjoy or would not perform this loving ritual.

What's the secret for getting my wife to enjoy sucking my cock? Sadly, I don't have one. She just does. That she enjoys fellatio, I have confidence in. It's hard to gauge the strength of her pleasure when I 'enjoy cunnilingus'. She moans and mewls appreciatively but still, not with the enthusiasm with which she accepts the gift of my cock when I drop trou and guide the head towards her eager mouth. She makes me feel like I am dipped in chocolate and it makes her wet.

We have a little inside joke if she is not quite ready. "We need more foreplay!" By foreplay we mean I merely have to lay back and enjoy the tongue lashing. This often made me feel a little selfish, but not so much so that I was going to yank her by the hair off my cock.

Most wouldn't believe me, "My wife gets wet from giving head!" Her obsession may have hindered her ability to truly enjoy cunnilingus. Yes, we have tried sixty-nine. She prefers to concentrate on giving the pleasure and considers the pussy worship to be an interruption to her art. She is delightfully single minded about it during her cock worship. When we take turns, she always enjoys it. In a sense though she's just waiting for her turn to reciprocate.

I love my cock sucking wife.

Left Brain Thoughts. - The editor

The Cobbler's children have no shoes." Recently commenting on Z's blog : "My words are like my children, I have too many of both."

I see great stories on the web, that need a little word smithing. I can see in their posts where to pare down to the essentials. I, the cobbler don't shoo (sic) my progeny.

I have always written as I think, then later worry about clarity, brevity & grammar. I want to revisit prior posts in a form easier to digest. I may lift some gems from my wife's also into a "best of" post as her writing is already pretty crisp.

My first try cut one 1550 word post into only the two following posts, one of 280 words and one of 500.

The first web mention of one of our posts...

... and its by FleshBot!

Sex Blogs

Sex Blog Roundup: Holiday Grab Bag Edition

It seems like everything is about making lists this time of year: wish lists, gift lists, shopping lists, grocery lists ... the lists go on. But why do we spend so much time anticipating our wants? Here's what we all could use: someone else to do the thinking for us. In today's roundup of some of our favorite moments from the sex blog scene this week, our stalwart Santas have searched high and low to bring you this grab bag of sexy choices. Lights on or off? Cock packed or passed over? In private or for an audience, au natural or enhanced? Here's hoping you get what you really, really want.

Close your eyes and reach inside with Always Aroused Girl and Jefferson after the jump.

Sex Blog Roundup

by Always Aroused Girl and Jefferson

- - -

Do I Pack Daily?

Multiple people have asked me how often I pack, lately.

The short answer is: no, I don't pack daily.

The longer answer is . . . I seem to be packing more and more often. Since I got my hands on that fabulous packing cock, it's been easier to pack discreetly and comfortably, so I've done it increasingly.

I used to pack only when I had a hot date and having sex was a possibility; that began changing six or so months ago, when I began packing occasionally when going out, just for the boost of cock confidence.

- Sugarbutch Chronicles

- - -

Lights Out

So last night I wanted to re-live a little of the plain old make-out session time. I hadn't specifically planned anything vis-à-vis the lighting scheme. I had only resolved to leave the rope, the duct tape, the belt, and the kink put away, and just kiss, for as long as I could without leading anywhere else. I wasn't going to resist any advances she might be inspired to make, but I would be chaste, I resolved. Out of the shower, teeth brushed, I killed the distraction of the TV and when I flipped off the bathroom light the whole room was plunged into darkness. Interestingly that seemed to add to setting a new tone. I don't think the lighting level matters in this experiment for a couple, just try something different than you usually do, whatever that is. Unless you are blind in which case maybe write bright or dim slogans on each other in Braille.

- Full Contact Monogamy

- - -

Lines in the Sand

Tossing the brush onto the counter I pulled the shower door open, letting a warm billow of steam out into the room, fogging the mirrors. Nothing like a hot shower to set my mood. I slowly washed my hair while the soap bubbles trailed down my body, over my breasts, down my belly, one catching in my navel, another sliding across my exposed clit, over my thighs. Like sensual fingers tracing across my body. Good behavior, Liz, this one needs some easy handling.

- Liz Wired

- - -

Words Fail

I peeled the lacy black knickers off her, and enjoyed the revelation of the pink of her labia peering out from in between the dark brown of her pubic hair, which is strangely straight and soft in contrast to the thick curls on her head.

Immediately when I touched her pussy with the tip of my tongue, Fifi took my head in her hands, pulled me up and with a great urgency said, "uh-uh, fuck . . . " It was like a sudden realization that the thing she wanted most in the world had to happen right away and could only be described by grunts and one-word requests.

- MonMouth

- - -

Dee's With Dan Right Now

I know she sucks his cock on and off throughout an evening together and is happy to be able to fit most of it inside her mouth, but I don't know what particular positions she uses or what combinations of licking, sucking, and stroking she uses with him. I know they have intercourse in a variety of ways, but I don't know in what order, for how long, and how fast or deep he moves inside her each time.

- Sharing Dee

- - -

Toyland

In the bedroom he undressed me slowly, kissing me harder each time, until we were both naked. He licked my neck and his hand went to between my legs, and I sighed as I felt him stroke my clit, the familiar feeling building and me burying my head against his chest asking him to please make me cum. He smiled and withdrew his hand, saying, "Not yet. We need to see the toys."

- Bridget's Boy(s)

- - -
Unethical

Perhaps the taxi driver sees women with their nakedness covered by fur coats every day of the week in his cab. Perhaps he meets their eye in the mirror, as he met mine, all the time. It's possible that even if he thought he saw such a woman, he would dismiss it as a trick played by hackneyed fantasy. It's conceivable he knew what he saw, and smiled. He could have done more than smile. I smile now, but with a different pleasure, as I'm rolled onto my back. He could have asked to see, the taxi driver.

-
- - -

From Afar

I must confess, I'm hoping to have you in my mouth and be able to feel my cunt pulsate and tingle at the memory of a recent cataclysmic orgasm.

Your fingers will have opened me to your probing lips and tongue, and joined them to explore the depths of the inner parts of me that I only show to those deserving. Could you feel how hot I felt? How wet I was? How aroused? Didn't you want to slide your whole hand inside me and mercilessly beat a tattoo on my g-spot until I was the one who gushed forth like an overflowing mountain brook?

- The Erotic Journal of Juno Henry

* * * * *

We are Famous! (ERP??!) - The Husband

I had checked site meter and we were on pace for our usual 100-ish readers a day. The average person stays 4 minutes because some who for example Googled recipes and found themselves here flee in terror, and those that find us Googling "Pussy Pics" ogle the Googled for an hour at times. The average reader clicks 3 pages, again because some flee with burning retinas, some click each enlarged picture of her glistening clit, or click to read each time we mention cunnilingous or Fellatio.

Interestingly for a couple calling ourselves "The Fellatio Artist & The Geek" Pussy Worship remains our most common google hit. I mean I have recently picked up a couple of pointers from a sweet Bi-friend on the subject and have learned to enrapture her sufficiently that she doesn't ALWAYS push me away and gobble my cock, but the blow-jobs outnumber the clit-jobs at least 4 to one around here. Not that I am complaining.

An hour or so ago, site meter went NUTS. For a moment it was almost jammed I couldn't see individual stats at all, but we had a spike of 20 people in like as many minutes. there were 9 on reading at once..(woo-hoo virtual orgy!!). When I finally saw where they were coming from my jaw dropped..I went to tell The Fellatio Artist that we had been picked up by FleshBot. I read Fleshbot and have found some GREAT blogs from them. I am fairly new to blogging in general and don't quite get how different types of blogs work. I see FleshBot as maybe some arm of a publishing house or something. I find places like that intimidating so I read but don't comment since they seem not like"regular folks" of course silly because some regular folks had to write every word one keystroke at a time..(although they undoubtedly use more then the three fingers I use.)

Turns out Always Aroused Girl and Jefferson had written the Holiday Grab Bag Edition of the Sex Blog Round-up on FleshBot and had snipped a bit from a post I did. I read AAG everyday, and know Jefferson only by reputation, I cannot believe how many blogs out there that I read will say, I was talking to Jefferson the other day and he said...that guy seems to know everyone. So, Jefferson, if you read this, Uh, Hi, nice to make your acquaintance, Ive heard so many kinky things about you..:)

The funny thing is it was arguably the tames post on here. Kinda intimidating to realize that people who just read how I had enjoyed some gentle kink-free kissing with my beloved wife, come here and if they get to the main page can see me up to my wrist in her most personal of spaces...oh well.

We started this as a place to put things too salacious for even our online kinky friends, for things to weird for my married crossdresser blog...we weren't sure we would ever give anyone the link. We decided to start making a few comments using this id on various blogs and we just had our 2,000th visitor for what was supposed to be an backwater blog.

One of the hits came from 10 miles away...kinda close...like I said...erp.

Domination With a Straight Face. - The Husband

Being a randy S.O.B. this morning's raunch wasn't enough to sate the beast within. Well I thought it was, until she presented her ass. She got some shoes today from an admirer and was taking a picture of them. To do this, she laid on her back, put her ass within spanking distance in a pair of tight jeans and put her legs in the air against the wall as she took a self picture of the shoes.

Naturally, I spanked her. It sounded good, felt good on my hand and she kind of sidled her butt over for another. I told her to lock the door and strip. She said she had to go downstairs to deal with a pan. Huh? She explained that yet again she had boiled a pan dry with this seasonal spice (nutmeg, allspice, cinnamon) that she simmers on the stove to cover the odor of unwashed dishes and laundry and burned pans. This time it was a pan that was ugly, battered, but serviceable that was left behind by one of th 29 roommates I went through before trading them in for a her. This, a grievous sin indeed. I told her as she attempted (in vain I am sure) to scrub the carbon off the bottom to think of a number of swats that she should receive to atone for the loss of my pan. (Did I mention this is the third one in about as many month?) She said "Zero!" I told her I found her number "unacceptable."

Thinking about spanking her got me very hard indeed. Not something I am proud of, just a physiological reaction to a fetish. When she came in, I told her to strip but put on some panties. She did, (locking the door behind her) and rummaged around for some underwear. She grabbed a floral print boy short. "Unacceptable" I say.. I pulled mine off and had her step into them, and put hers on. "On your knees!" I insisted.

I fucked her face a while then remembered the task at hand. "On the bed, face down, ass in the air." She did, a trace of a bemused smile. I thought the angle looked interesting although no woman's behind is flattered in that pose. Being in an unflattering pose was hot in and of itself, so I took pictures. Unfortunately that was with her camera and I'm betting on deletion. We will see. I opened the blinds to let in some natural light and to give that uneasy feeling that her ass being flogged might be seen by someone.

I had her reach under and masturbate in my panties to give her something to do where I considered angles and lighting. Finally satisfied that I had enough pictures of her ass for later humiliation play, I pulled the panties in for a mild wedge exposing more flesh for the spankin'. Rather than a series of red blotches, I wanted a single distinct handprint. A partial wouldn't do and once I had a partial, there would be no chance of lining up a second so I increased te acceleration of my hand through the air to achieve a terminal velocity of about 50% more than I thought I needed for the effect of that. Since her safe word seems to be "OW!" I wasn't going to get a second swat anyway with the one I had wound up in my shoulder. SMMMAAAACKKKKK! It hurt. A lot. My hand was stinging. She felt it too.

She started laughing through the tears. A long time ago we were playing around with spanking. I had kicked the roommates (and the revenue) out of my house and we were christening all the rooms. The middle bedroom with the green shag carpeting had a cheap mirror on the back of the door. I had found a garland of pearls and she was wearing those her bridal heels and the "Nelda Outfit" (a one piece teddy our mutual friend Nelda had given her at her bridal shower.)

There was a stool in the room and we messed around mugging for the mirror. Her favorite was probably when I sat on the stool sans trousers and she watched in the mirror as she bent over wearing those 4" white satin, lace and pearl trimmed, stiletto heels and deep-throated me. I enjoyed having her bend over the stool as I swatted her bare cheeks with my hand progressively harder each stroke until she kept up a throaty sexy patter f oh yes, that fells good, spank me, make it hurt...until it actually did. Then she stood up straight rubbed her ass and said OW that HURT annunciated in clear debate team voice. We still laugh about that. If you can't laugh WITH your sub you aren't really secure in your Dom-ulinity. Besides, she is probably laughing behind your back AT you..(subs do that you know)

Oddly although I shared her mirth I was quite ramped up in my desire to cause her the pain so I was pretty un-apologetic about it. As the bright red hand print raised, I knew it was all worth it anyway..what a pic that will make!..snapped a few as she craned her neck to see it. looking at the display skin she audibly gasped in a "look what you DID to me" way but a quick groping of her confirmed that she was also very very wet...I think more so from seeing the result than the swat itself.

She openingly laughed saying look how dom-ly you still look despite the fact that we are laughing. I pointed out that even though I laughed, I really hadn't granted permission for her to do so. I emphasized my pint with some pressure on her carotids. Sharp intake of breath and then silence. "Better", I said, and meant it. Reaching down I pulled of the panties. "I also didn't give permission for you to cream in my panties." I grabbed the nylon panties and yanked them down over her ass and off her legs. "Look what you've done." I calmly pointed out, as I let her taste the moist gusset I soved it in her mouth.

Taking them out of her mouth, and taking liberties no properly trained sub would she wrapped them around her neck pulling the stretchy nylon taut. "I think you should choke me."

Taking them back I used them to stretch a taught gag like a bit through her teeth pulling hard at the corners of he mouth pulling her smile into a grimace. "No," I explained. "As much as I am getting off on this little scene, I might well take that too far." That seemed to hit the mark. by this point I had worked my way on top of her pinning her and threatening her already abused cunt again with my cock. Working it in I fucked her for a short while before she moved the panty gag aside and complained that it was hurting inside and not in a good way. "No problem," I cheerfully replied as I gently gathered a handful of hair and pulled her mouth down onto my cock. She lasted a little while that way and was experiencing discomfort there too.

Hmm, I say, you are an awfully greedy slut aren't you. You get off by crossing your legs and I don't complain when despite years of practice, you fail to get me off at times. You really need to choose one way or another here (as I put my cock back in her pussy). She complained and came again and again as I fucked her. Do you want me to stop? "No" Does it hurt? "Yes" Is that why you are cumming? "Yes".

I was looking forward to several exchanges back and forth mouth to pussy, pussy to mouth and back, but her writhing and orgasms from every nipple pinch just got me off before I could completely wear her down. All in all, another lovely time was had by me. Dunno about her, I shall badger her to post her version of this.

Lazy Morning Back Rub. - The Husband

I was a little morose last night. Came out of nowhere. Nothing I felt justified in pouting over. It was my own past deeds bringing up some well-earned guilt. My wife was patient with me as I worked through it. That is beyond long-suffering, especially since prior to my unexpected attack of conscience, she was very much in the mood. She waited it out and like other storms in the past this minor squall passed. We had a "lovely" time, and full of whatever chemical is released to keep the male from jostling the work-product after delivery, I fell to sleep.

I awoke still a little chagrined, but determined not to bring my self-abuse into the new day to cast a cloud on a very nice day here. When I don't feel good about myself, I withdraw, turn in. I was determined not to so silly as it sounds, I accepted her forgiveness by asking for a back rub this morning. (I know, I know, big of me huh?) But it worked, I was feeling connected and loved and accepted. I always am loved and accepted, but I struggle.

When she sleepily tired of scritching. I rolled over to scratch her, er, uh, front I guess. She didn't roll over so I did my best to keep it chaste and affectionate rather than sexual...I failed miserably......

Sugasm 110

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Erotic Writing. - The Husband

I was staying in a red light district hotel, having just moved out of my parents house under some duress at the age of barely 18. I was laying on the floor one night after work resting my back, and spied a slim volume of quite literally pulp fiction. It was printed on newsprint with a 2 color cover. It captivated me. It was the only erotica I had read other than Mom's Sydney Sheldons, and a battered copy of Judy Bloom's "Wifey" that i found in the alley behind our house . The tale in the found paperback involved an older woman (never called M.I.L.F.'s in those days.) She finds herself blackmailed in some improbable way and is in the broom closet or pantry with her son's friend with a cucumber equally improbably placed. To this day when running into such insertions I find such pics compelling. The element that one would think would have been the biggest turn off was the whole mother angle, given that I had no oedipal urges and, well, enough matriarchal loathing to hang out with Stewie Griffen.

I was rescued from skid row by my grandparents who heard of my new address and offered the basement room where they took in un-wed expectant mothers. (sadly, none were extant on the premises at the time of my visit.) I stayed there about three weeks when suddenly with no pre-amble but an elbow to the ribs from grandma, grandpa coughed out, "So, did you have any luck looking for an apartment today." By this I took it to mean that my bitch of a mother was giving grandma grief over giving shelter to her grandchild.

I exchanged my previous motel on skid row this time for one that backed to an "Adult" bookstore. (Said so right on the sign - Modern World Adult Bookstore)

I nervously went in, since the legal drinking age had been recently raised from 18 to 21 before I had a chance to choose not to imbibe, I wasn't sure if this rule extended to smut as well. I was skinny and very young looking and expected to be thrown out before I could memorize all the covers with the few furtive glances I cast about. I grabbed Tongue Lashing Susan a tale as I later found out was about a very friendly but driven nurse with an oral fixation. I grabbed this paid for it in cash and practically ran back to my room. As I read of Susan's exploits, I thought not at all about the fact that my mothers training and once a week shift at the hospital was as an R.N.

A year or so later during a nine day stay in the orthopedic ward of a hospital after a losing argument between my motorcycle and a 4 wheeled vehicle, I thought of it again. Interestingly I wonder if I projected that, or perhaps she noticed some hint of my ardor during my sponge baths because I did get a little tongue, but no lashing from my nurse that may well have been named Susan. In my mind the two figures merged when she kissed me. I can no longer remember if the Nurse or the girl in the book was named Susan. I am not sure it matters. ~fond smile~

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.

That's LOVELY, Dear. - The Husband

Do you have a word that is purposely overused in your household?

For us it is "Lovely". It takes on all different meanings depending on the shading I give it. It started because at some point the wife had done something crafty and wanted my opinion on its brilliance. I was distracted and in "newspaper" mode as I call it based on the non-distinct grunts you could get out of my dad when he read the newspaper. He was rudely transparent about not listing. That wasn't y intent, I just was in my left brain when she asked and although that side has a several thousand world vocabulary, I don't write poetry with it. I have always had a bit of a bifurcated brain structure. Like I can't count and dance, but if I don't count I can dance.

Lovely can mean now, "meh, not really into it, if delivered with a frown" or Thats actually clever but I choose to deny you discernible feedback just because I am a sadist." if delivered with a grin.

I often say after a particularly raunchy romp "That was lovely, dear."

My wife is actually quite lovely so its a shame such a nice, gentle superlative got co-opted. She remembers the first intimate complement I gave her was "You know, you are really lovely". Apparently delivered in a nice Chinese restaurant sitting side by side as I turned to look at her.

We were sitting here just now discussing this because of a modification of my sigline on a forum, where I mean lovely in the adoring sense. It occurs to me though that the sig points to pictures that are, well , post romp lovely.

So I said to her with a sly grin. "You know dear, you are lovely....wait....and you suck a lovely cock!" . Gazing winningly, she rejoined, "You do have a lovely cock, and I do suck it on occasion."

Lights Out. -The Husband

I had observed in my younger days doing shall we say nocturnal fieldwork, that couples might make-out for a bit with the lights on, but when it came time to be intimate they tended to turn out the lights. Illumination if at all was from a flickering candle or a cathode ray tube.

In our early years, we had the lights a-blazing. As an avid voyeur, I saw no reason to miss out on any visual detail. We did candles, but usually lots of them to inflame the pyro in me. As we aged and added some bulges and bumps, we tended to dim out light sources until we, too were making the beast with two backs by the blue light of the TV with the sound down. Not a very efficient light source, that.

With some really remarkable effort on both our parts we have lost the equivalent of another body in bed. To the consternation of our friends who want a different answer to how we lost the weight , we did it from eating less, and being more active. Our sex lives have picked up as of late in frequency, duration, and the athleticism involved. As you can see from the last entry we can at times be a little intense, and the light levels are definitely back up.

Yesterday, I was playing some of those ad a letter/drop a letter, alphabet, word association, etc. games on a forum we frequent. One involved alphabetizing gerunds. (of course they didn't actually say gerunds, they simply said to find an "ing" word starting with the next letter of the alphabet.) I couldn't think of one for K for some reason, when usually I am pretty fast in riffling through my lexicon. She suggested "Kicking", which I started typing till she said "Kissing". Funny how a word can evoke memories. I mean it isn't like we don;t kiss on a regular basis. more lately than in a long time, some affectionate pecks, as well as a sprinkling of varied intensities thrown into the mix or our love-making, and even at times when we are just fucking. It occurs to me that that seems to be the difference. not the kink level but the kiss level in determining whether we are "Being Intimate" or "Fucking".

I remembered back to times when I was still in most ways imaginable a virgin, and she was while somewhat impatient, respecting my boundaries. I wish I could say my reticence was because of devout piety, but the truth was I was superstitious. My most serious previous relationship had ended, I thought at the time, as punishment at the hand of God. Not surprising I thought that given my repressive upbringing and the fact that I am in fact a direct descendant of Increase Mather. (I found out much too late that my poor attempt at self-education could have perhaps been rectified if I had had a large wad of cash and had presented my genealogy to the admissions office at Harvard and claimed the ultimate legacy status.)

Where was I? Oh, children of an Angry God and that sort of thing.

So, I convinced myself that if I went "too far" I would lose this girl that I was quite smitten with, sexually and emotionally. I drew silly incongruent lines to define the bounds of proper behavior, or at least behavior no worse than the week before say. We would have conversations that had a very heavily sexually charged undercurrent, while making plans to avoid for instance being alone together, as the flesh was weak. Very supple, and weak.....(enjoying euphoric recall here.)

So the kinkiest seemed to be the times we were most determined to "be good". We noticed the pattern early and we would torment each-other with the phrase, "We are going to be good..." "...Very good.."

So last night I wanted to re-live a little of the plain old make-out session time. I hadn't specifically planned anything vis-a-vis the lighting scheme. I had only resolved to leave the rope, the duct tape, the belt, and the kink put away, and just kiss. for as long as I could without leading anywhere else. I wasn't going to resist any advances she might be inspired to make, but I would be chaste, I resolved. Out of the shower, teeth brushed, I killed the distraction of the TV and when I flipped off the bathroom light the whole room was plunged into darkness. Interestingly that seemed to add to setting a new tone. I don't think the lighting level matters in this experiment for a couple, just try something different than you usually do, whatever that is. Unless you are blind in which case maybe write bright or dim slogans on each other in braille.

I fumbled trough the dark without stubbing a toe or barking a shin and found her on 'her side' of the bed guided in part by the redolent tones of the toddler snoring on my side. As planned we kissed and reminisced and it took not long at all for her to pick-up on the fact that I was reliving the days of being good. We didn't stay good, including other fantasy tableaus in our couping but just the slow delay made certain sensations all the more delicious.

She pointed out that I in fact was never this chaste at our best, but I pointed out that in fact I was in the earliest days before I succumbed to her feminine whiles and fell. I played the coquette, she played the gentle encourager and we had a fine time.

Lets try this again... - The husband

Baby is better, happy and healthy and a terror once again. Safely asleep and out of the bed, linens once again washed.

Jane is in the shower...smooth soapy and wet...yummmy

Need to get a quick rinse myself then lay back and watch the virtuoso perform.

I'll let you know how it blows, er glows, er grows, er goes I mean!

edit:

The fellatio as expected was outstanding. I managed to forstall my excitement and present her with a flacid clean workspace to start from. Always fun to see and feels amazing for a small flaccid nibble grow in her mouth and slowly fetreat out full size a short while later. Great conjuring trick.

Lots of warm wet tongue swirling around the shaft, pressing on that spot under the tip of the head that feels so good, a few shudder inspiring teasing licks at the ABC (Ass-to-Ball-Connection). Short, fast strokes with her mouth following the contours p and over the ridge of my head. a little medium throat wish isn't as impressive looking as deep throat but is what feels the best. I thought for a while I would reward her efforts in a visible way, but the moment passed suddenly as it does sometimes. With her depth of experience she can tell, and usually moves on to other activities, this time lying back for the highly under-rated missionary position.

I started a little filthy verbal encouragement based in part on some pictures she had seen of a young man that she fond aesthetically pleasing and emotionally disturbing as our oldest turns 18 in a couple of weeks. This guy could easily fit in with the 18-21 crowd that or son hangs around in. At some point though I felt I was forcing a square peg in a perfectly nice warm wet round hole. I can do that sometimes. Chasing an orgasm is the surest way to forestall one. She took over the narrative and fleshed out the scene more vividly and with out too much more aerobic activity I had yet another orgasm to ad to my tally for the day.

We have a semi-serious idea of starting yet two more blogs just to track orgasms or maybe just twin counter bars. She will win of course, always, but we thought it might be fun to keep track.

All in all 8 out of 10 for sensations, I think I should have just been more present in the moment This is a mistake I make often trying to cram to much fantasy and role play and positions int what is really a pretty simple effective coupling to orgasm. What is there between us at the moment is enough and I tend to forget that chasing greater highs.

Yay, me!...I masturbated... The Husband.

OK the toddler is on the mend after one last final, well never mind, lets talk more cheerful expulsions..

As you may remember I have hang-ups (wankups?) about self-love. My wife is encouraging me past that. We were discussing the abortive session last night and she was asking, "By the way - when you said that you were masturbating under the sheets last night...." (she hadn't read my post yet) "...Why were you? Especially since you knew I wanted a taste of your yummy man meat." (Well I made up the man meat part but you get the idea.) I explained that I was bound and determined to cum in her mouth with alacrity having just read a nice post on Sweat Shop Sissy's blog about how much his wife appreciated that he came for her during fellatio. My wife, (like his) appreciates seeing results from her polished, knob sucking skills. And I just haven't delivered lately. "Ah, she says than thats perfectly OK!"

I went on to explain to her that I had managed to rub one out early this morning before I finally got back to sleep. At first I couldn't retrace my steps as to what it was that set me to pulling. Finally I remembered.

I was lying in bed in my third change of clothes, down to bare mattress, third blanket, tired, but also bored. Went online to the place she and I have gone, posted a few pictures. (Don't get excited it is pretty much the same (and less) than you see here.)

There was a thread from a couple, she started out tentative, got a little bolder and then was asking about the forum rules on how explicit she could be. She apparently didn't want to run afoul of the rules but had some naughty shots she wanted to post. I like a girl that will follow the rules if I am in position to set them anyway. Moderator told her sure pics of you nuzzling hubby's shorts OK as are nip slips.

In the course of explaining her level of excitement in venturing into the realm of showing the world themselves naked, she had mentioned that the other night she had watched a guy on his cam while her husband went down on her. We had done something similar recently so that rung a titillating bell. She went on to say they were thinking of getting a cam to repay the young man's favor. (I doubt he needs or expects to be repaid, but its a lovely thought!)

We had looked at a pair of web cams the other day and decided we could get in a lot deeper a lot faster than we planned that way. Still the idea of rushing down and getting some cams and taking this couple camming cherry while they took ours was really scintillating. So I abused myself against my will because I knew it was what I really wanted anyway. I didn't even get up in disgust to clean up my mess, just fell asleep in my sweats, knowing that a little of me was by far not the worst thing in our bed lately. Progress.

Coitus Negado. - The Husband

Latin experts including med students, law-yahs, and Catholic schoolgirls (and boys) are invited to improve upon my translation. I was aiming for "sexual congress denied" best I could find was Latin-American Spanish for denied. That was after a pretty exhaustive search for online translators. Even the ones that claimed to do Latin to English of English to Latin gave me a sleepy "Huh? Isn't that language dead?" Interesting reading though it seems that nearly all the requests for translation to Latin from English were those wanting fairly cerebral phrases for a tattoo. Seems that some of them were a bit lengthy for an armband.

I thought only the strong survive apt, in that if you can take that many needle jabs you are indeed strong. I had a friend (since deceased, peacefully of an aneurysm) who was convinced that many deaths occur from survivable wounds simply because being shot or stabbed is such an affront that the body follows the dictates of the mind that is convinced that one is dying. He was quite an interesting and colorful character. He, as far as I know, never shot, stabbed or otherwise harmed anyone. He was a fully qualified expert on these matters. Need training on ambidextrous use of a pump-action shotgun for when one's dominant arm is wounded? He is your guy. Need a fully automatic Mac-10 with silencer, N.I.B. complete with appropriate (genuine) federal permits. You're covered. Need instruction on construction of quick-release knife sheaths? He just happens to have such a sheath secreted on his person. This former Boy Scout took "be prepared" quite literally. He was in fact preparing for bow season with a pre-run of his field where he most likely would have shot his 35 mm camera from a 25 yard sneak, rather than the bolt of a crossbow when he expired. Cigarettes that he had oft times tried to quit had no doubt increased his blood pressure and weakened his arteries. One often prepares for one thing only to be blindsided another way.

Take tonight, I was prepared to enjoy a delicious leisurely blow job. I awoke from an un-planned nap to read my wifes post. She was settling in for the night, but I was convinced with the toddler asleep finally between us, and my rousing facilities clearing that I could squeeze in a little fellatio by encouraging her out of the bed before she drifted off to sleep. Silly that we made do, lovingly with a queen-sized mattress when newly-wed, and once we graduated to a king-sized mattress, have to flee it for the floor so often with the endless stream of cherubic interlopers over the years. The most persistent finally left for good at the age of seven only when it was explained that with baby on the way, he really needed to spend more time in his big boy bed. It is truly amazing sometimes we have any sex-life at all. This latest one is no doubt going to need extensive therapy but I, refuse to wait another 7 years for regular, uninterrupted nookie. We have done it in the shower, on the cold tile of a Las Vegas hotel bathroom, in the Van in the driveway and in a darkened corner of a parking lot, and these were not the thrill-seeking times.

So the toddler is safely asleep, my wife is not quite yet asleep (or so I tell myself). I wriggle out of my snug jeans I fell asleep in, ditch the undershorts and began stroking my newly smooth lower regions. I was reading Selana Kitt earlier. A blog entry today captured my attention. In it the hero was bragging to a (co-worker?) in an elevator the he could both get off and get his partner off in 30 seconds routinely. She pushed stop and challenged him to prove it in the 2 minutes the stop button would by them. The elusive quickie is a personal goal of mine. Those that are pre-ejaculators dream of marathon fuck-fests, I dream of beating my wife one day to an orgasm. Grass is greener and all that.

My great plan was to masturbate under the covers to near completion and get it in proximity to her mouth as a near fait accompli. Right about then the toddler woke up...Pat-pat, Pat-pat...OK only a delay..been there..it could still happen I tell myself...

Then she's up. Good news is my wife is wide awake again by this point, re-reading Bertrice Small for the umpteenth time. Don't read her myself, but I love that septuagenarian degenerate for the smut she writes that keeps my wife in a slow state of simmering horniness. I selected Patricia Cornwall's excellent "Portrait of a Killer" where she convincingly makes the case for Walter Sickert the painter as Jack the Ripper. A fresh bottle for the baby, and I prepare what I hope to be a pre-coital snack of broiled tomatoes and mozzarella on stale baguette.

The baby manages a crust and then spews all over our sheets. Makes me wish I had one of these mentioned in a comment on AAG's blog. Down to the laundry with two loads, my clothes, comforter, sheets, one of the Wife's blankets. mess cleaned up, baby bathed and soothed...(maybe?)

snuggled back in our bed, dry, warm and clean again. Again, no warning, projectile vomiting. Load in the dryer, one in the washer, new one on deck. As I type the warm and mostly dry comforter is ding its job snuggling me in the comfort against the chill threatening my bare neck from cheap mid-eighties last of the single pane windows construction. A 4th load in the washer (towels this time, the only textiles we had dry and clean to try to fend off the 5th and 6th eruption). The toddler snores. And I type. Not especially horny for some reason.

Edit: 5th load of towels on the way. How does a 16 pound baby survive the loss of this much fluid? ~concerned~

First Taste of Pussy. - The Husband.

Other than having a pussy ground against my chin, and one abortive tentative attempt in the dark with a stranger involving more fingers than tongue, my wife took my tongues cherry along the road to taking my ultimate cherry.

I don't recall for certain that the memorable experience was in fact the very first time that my tongue so much as grazed her nether regions, but the cunnilingus itself is a treasure trove of sights, textures, tastes and fragrances.

I assume that by the time this memory was created I had plenty of imagery in my mind of the sights and sounds and sensations of her giving me oral pleasure. I didn't think it odd at the time, but she never even hinted at requesting some sort of reciprocation. (Well other than the not so subtle hints that if I'm OK with sucking, I really out to do something about her under-fucked pussy. I understand nw that for her giving head isn't a prelude, it is in and of itself a destination.)

Of the many things on my kinky to do list was the idea of shaving a woman's legs. Watching shaving has always fascinated me, dunno why, but with the lens of trans-gendered issues, I wonder if I wasn't projecting subconsciously my leg feeling the smooth drag of the razor. I may well be melding various images and sensations in my mind, but I recall catching her in the tub mid shave and 'helping' her. She was kind of blushing abut it, which in some ways wasn't like her. Looking back it wasn't the nudity that likely bothered her so much as the personal nature of her interrupted grooming.

At some point I joined her in the tub. That inevitably led to a bit of a soapy blow job. I was unsure of whether my sensitive palate and olfactory receptors would enjoy the experience or not as opinions on this delicacy seem to vary a lot. I was resolved to make the attempt. I in obtuse ways had her turn around into a 69 position. It would have been simple to say, "Hey, flip around I want to eat you out while you suck that." But was a little unsure about how the geometry of that works, and not at all sure abut promising something that I was unqualified as yet to deliver. To guide me I had only lurid descriptions from girls I had met over phone lines when such things were still mostly un-moderated, and unpaid.

At some point her cute little ass and tightly clamped legs were pointed my direction and I got a nice close up view of her lips, smooth now that she had inquired and found to her relief (seems odd in this day an age) that no I have no objection at all to her shaving there. Nomenclature from an Honors Biology class flooded from my brain. I nearly blushed again as when I first heard those terms from my pretty blond, high school biology teacher. Labia majora, check. a flick of the tongue, a gasp, legs parted slightly, followed by lips and there labia minor. (If Mrs. A_____ is reading this, yeah I could Google the terms make sure I get them right, but this isn't about being more real than the reality of my very tangible feeling memories.)

I tongued, licked and traced a gentle (because I was tentative not skilled) finger the length of her vulva and back. As she parted, I probed and prodded with fingers and tongues, tasting with relief the lovely taste of fresh washed, highly aroused pussy. Those that revel in pussy worship have it right it is delectable. Add some fragrantly subtle bath soap, and it really appealed to me clean fetish. I think in a soapy tub is still my favorite setting for cunnilingus. I am sure she came, but more from the naughty newness of knowing that I had succumbed to her charms and partaking of some of her forbidden fruit not by being cajoled or pressured, but because she was in fact, irresistible.

How I Came to Blog. - The Husband

My wife is amused (and then again not) with my obsession with blogging and more so reading other's blogs. She knew years ago that blogging was a natural fit for me because I like to read and I LOVE to talk and would greatly enjoy a large audience, if not in person. (3 is my limit in person).

She tried and tried to get me to write. She tried to involve me in her blogging. I just wouldn't rise to the bait. I tend to be the sort of perfectionist that does nothing perfectly so I develop inertia and do nothing. I'll start things, but grow frustrated when they clearly aren't going to measure up to my high standards.

So enter the other woman. No, not that kind. The one that apparently has been living inside me for nearly 4 decades if not in fact from before birth. Turns out that a bunch of seemingly unrelated incidents with women's clothing may have had its roots in her looking for some method of expression. No I am not schizophrenic, nor do I suffer from any form really of dissociative disorder. I started by acknowledging to myself and to my wife that for years I had a strange urge to partially dress in women's clothing. I didn't understand it at all then, and not so much more so now. I have only discovered what it doesn't mean. I am not gay, not even repressibly so. I don't have gender diaspora (discomfort sometimes even revulsion at one's own birth gender) . I don't have any interest in BEING a woman. But I did need a place to gather the wool of my thoughts. So my femme alter ego got her/(our?) first blog. I had (still do) a lot of fun and learned about myself as I wrote about my experiences of going from an occasionally guilty wearer of pantyhose and lingerie to completely and tastefully dressed en femme.

In subtle but definable ways 'she' is different than 'he'. My personality comes through but the best I can determine is that she is actually an immature early version of me. That fork in the road that (Frost?) wrote about where she had wanted to take the road less traveled. 'He' had pressures, obligations, expectations placed upon him, and made every effort to remain true to himself despite the buffetings, but in fact portions of 'his' self were eroded away. The innocence, the openness, the willingness to put himself out there emotionally were blunted. She, hidden from view, was unaffected. With a brand new persona, I felt free to express myself. For some reason, although she seems to have all of my knowledge of grammar and spelling and syntax, she was able to flout the rules, get thoughts on paper and clean up the mess later. So she took to blogging and probably at this point has a book's worth written. As a youth I aspired to be an author, but no story was good enough to do what all writers must, begin to write. She didn't care, she blathered on, a regular 'Chatty Cathy'. Along the way wrote things that were for me to read, profound. It ceased to matter at all what others in my unseen audience read, it was about what I wrote.

All that writing led to noticing who was reading me, where they came from why they chose to read. I found other blogs, some I searched for, some I stumbled upon. Googles heuristics are getting better on blogs, but at first I kept running into commercial crap. Several really good blogs feature ads and sponsors , so thats not what I mean. For example, I love Always Aroused Girl. Her writing is genuine, her ads are relevant, in fact she works online as an adviser for Eden's Fantasies (an adult toy purveyor). The hard thing for a search engine is to tell the difference. What I found works best if to find a writer I like and then look for who they like to read and so on. My wife calls this blurfing for surfing blogs. I do it for hours everyday.

I originally started this post as the first in a series of posts that was going to be who I blurf and why I blurf them. I think instead, I will post a little something about what I read in my blurfing either one blog or sometimes a series, and how (if at all) that influenced what we ended up doing in bed (or not) that day.

When my wife had come through the room an hour or so ago, before I started this post, I asked her if she had any idea what direction or sex life might take in the next several hours so I could begin a blog draft. She, only slightly amused made it clear that she is not planning our fucking around the blog or it's readers. Fair enough I said. I explained that I had enjoyed writing about what I thought might happen, but it was equally interesting when it didn't turn out as expected like the time we had a spanking planned and we had a cranky toddler session instead.

Reassured, she thought about it and said in a serious tone, "Well, I definitely am going to blow you tonight." I asked her if there was any particular reason I should be anticipating this particular delight. She explained that with all the discussion we have had abut it vis-a-vis memory lane and the mention in the comments on Fellatrix's blog, that she just wanted to. She says it is a nice way for her to remind me how lucky I am. I might have to retaliate with some energetic cunnilingus.

We got an honorable mention on the web.

The Fellatrix had a good post a day or two ago dealing with negotiating a blow job or its near equivalence out of your significant other. The main point that I took from it was that if you can find out what parts of the process your partner likes and doesn't, you can close to if not exactly what it is you want out of (er or into) you partner's mouth.

A little excerpt from her post:

There are essentially two areas of negotiation in what will occur during a blowjob, and you must agree on both before any activity takes place. There is a list for each area below.

1. Establish the limits on which parts of his penis she will stimulate and exactly how the stimulation will take place.
2. Agree on whether or not stimulation will proceed to ejaculation, and more importantly, where the ejaculate will end up. It is helpful to establish a 'warning word' to use when ejaculation is imminent, in case it's not obvious. Something other than "thar' she blows!" would be appropriate
   

Apparently commentary on her post on the web was filled with sophomoric comments like just grab her by the hair and shove her into your lap. I am not surprised that locker-room bravado would be bandied abut from the privacy of anonymous message boards while their wives or mothers were upstairs asleep. What surprised me was that we were apparently the only commentators that were appreciative of the post. It really is a good road map for anyone that wants to get some head, and isn't sure why their wife isn't going for it.

There must be some call for her kind of advice, just look at my recent post about a Google search that found us because they wanted to know "Is wife enjoying fellatio?"

Even though I lucked out and found a girl that likes the view from the end of my cock, it has taken some communication to maximize the enjoyment for both of us.

A good example of this is that during one of the early sessions, she stopped and inquired if everything was all right. Apparently I had my yes screwed shut in an exaggerated way. I didnt realize I was doing that. I mean I knew my eyes were closed. I was so astounded at the idea that this pretty, well adjusted girl had my "Pee-Pee" in her mouth that I was afraid to upset the applecart by letting her see me leer at her. I mean I had a front row seat to every voyeur's dream, a cute girl gobbling cock like a porn star. I guess I sort of thought if she noticed me drooling at the sight she would suddenly notice how slutty that looked and she might stop. She patiently explained that looking slutty was half the fun of it and that fellatio is a visual medium as much as a tactile one.

Back to the moronic ideas some guys seem to have. I have tried the waggling it in her face in a jesting manner, that doesn't work. Yes in the heat of the moment she enjoys being objectified, but not until the pilot light has been lit. Some of the jokesters were bragging about the fine BJ's they had 'negotiated' out of professionals in their worldly travels. I can see how a pro has the practice to get the tactile part right, and if they have good acting skills the visual part could be really convincing. But in the end, sticking your dick in the mouth of a girls you paid for exactly that service seems hardly as exciting and kinky as watching the mother of your children, the demure looking girl you sit next to in church, the girl that sucks you off because she likes the way you taste. Much better I think.

The Fellatio Artist & The Geek

My wife, The Fellatio Artist, is #1! - The Husband

Google is fun. This morning my wife was in top position for the search of "Is wife enjoying fellatio?"

Apparently, not as many husband's as you might think have pondered this question. Google reports 47,000 possible entries for this query. Interestingly a lot of the entries were about the fact that the wife did not enjoy or would not perform this loving ritual.

Fortunately I do not suffer these problems or even wonder if she does enjoy it. What is my secret for getting my wife to truly enjoy sucking my cock? Sadly, I don't have one, she just does. I may have done a few things right in the beginning, but she would have gotten around to her virtuoso performance with or without my bidding. I, The Geek, had very little experience, sexually. I had gone on a series of fairly chaste dates with some very nice, very pretty girls that I still remember fondly, but chastely. I also have sme fond but decidely unchaste memories of one virginal but slutty girlfriend. From her I learned most of what I know about a woman's sexual responses and more or less how a woman's orgasm worked as opposed to my own. This girl would have gladly sucked my cock, had I but asked, but she ( like I) suffered pangs of guilt..... and I cared about her enough not to want to add to her internal conflicts (or mine). She had enjoyed giving and receiving oral from a previous boyfriend but was so conflicted about it in the cold light of day that I just couldn't go there. She did once though after rubbing her little breasts on my cock, lick the resultant cum off my belly, so I got to see a little cock-hunger in her eyes, which was pretty memorable. She went on to find someone even more chaste than I was. I have no idea what she would have told him about her past and her desires, but my hope for her is that she is enjoying performing fellatio and perhaps is anonymously blogging about it as we speak.

I am getting astray of the topic here a bit as I am want to do at times. We were discussing my wife loves to give head. As she has stated in an earlier post, she started young and has enjoyed something abut each of the lucky men who wee attached to the cocks she fellated in preparation of the first time she blew me.

The first time her lips caressed the head of my cock was electric. When we met it was clear to both of us that she was the more experienced. She had never been a shy girl sexually until me, reporting that she tended to give head on the first date. I say this not to imply at all that I look down on her in anyway for this, just that she was a friendly and giving girl, she knew they would like it, she liked doing it, and she was remarkably libertine about it. With me, she was amazed at how long it took me to kiss her, and when I finally did she was reasonably satisfied with the results. As a virgin with a limited set of acceptable expressions for affection I had a fair amount of practice at that. We both were attracted to each other. She was used to being sexually attractive, I not so much. I wanted us to "be good". She wanted us to enjoy each other, but not if there were to be regrets. She was patient with my reticence, if a bit frustrated.

What a pair we made. Me, a repressed, guilt-ridden, chronically-masturbating, virginal sex-addict. She a free-spirited, cock-sucking, cum-swallowing, cheerful, friendly, nymphomaniac. I slowly worked my sexual expression with her up the guilt-ridden point that I had risen to (or sunk to) with the previously ill-fated relationship, and found none of the morning after guilt on her part and sufficient reserves of self-delusion and denial in my own psyche to press the boundaries a bit. One night on her ugly green couch I was grinding away, dry humping with my raging manhood clawing its way past the waistband of my tighty whities and past the open front of my button-fly 501's. I had in mind a repeat of the titty-fucking experience and pressed the head of my cock between them rubbing really against her sternum.

Her lips parted in shock to see my cock headed in the general direction of her thirsty mouth She later reported that she was thinking, "Oh My..he's really going to do this...." I was thinking I wouldn't that I would stop short. I found her mouth too inviting though and I continued to crawl up until I was tantalizingly (for both of us!) within range of her tongue. It darted out and quick as a flash, my oral cherry was devoured. That first time felt wonderful, but I had n idea the delights that would have awaited me if I had let her kneel and control the position the timing the cadence, the depth...oh my the depth. Have I mentioned that my wife can deep-throat like a pro? That is the most amazing thing to see (modestly) 6-7 inches of my dick, encircled by the lips, caressed by the back of the tongue and then with a wiggle and a gasp, it sliding slightly curved down the back of her throat as she chins my abdomen like an athlete touching the bar , or touching his chest to the pavement.

As far as the point of the search as to whether my wife is enjoying serving me orally, this is the one thing sexually that I have the most confidence in. Yes she is easily orgasmic and moans and mewls appreciatively when I return the favor. However, its hard to gauge the strength of her pleasure. Not so with the simple way she makes me feel I am giving her a gift of my cock when I drop trou and guide the head towards her eager mouth. Its just that it makes her wet. We have a little inside joke when we begin to fuck if she seems not quite ready, that we need more "foreplay" and for us (despite that we employ a wide variety of fun sexy activities that clearly are also in the foreplay category, the one thing we mean is that to get her ready I merely have to lay back and enjoy the blow. This often made me feel a little selfish, but not so much so that I was going to yank her by the hair off my cock.

I don't think the average person would believe me if I mentioned in casual conversation, "My wife gets wet from giving head!" She likes doing it so much that it actually might have hindered her ability to truly enjoy cunnilingus. Yes, we have tried the 69 position, if anything we prefer the her on top 69, but she prefers to concentrate on giving the pleasure and considers the pussy worship kind of an interruption to her art. She is delightfully single minded about it during her cock worship. If we take turns, she always enjoyed it, but in a sense was just waiting for her turn to reciprocate.

Lately, thanks to her finding with her little vibe an incredibly orgasmic spot just alongside her clit where a major ganglia of nerves seems to pass through, she has been willing to lose herself and her sense of cock-sucking duty in the bliss of waves of orgasms. A bi=sexual friend of ours made some suggestions. A sort of nibbling technique that was firmer than my previous tonguing efforts, but more gentle than when I would on her direction bite her tender places seems to have helped. It actually seems that lately I am finally catching up on years of oral debt, and I am proud to say she seemed to have enjoyed it without feeling that overwhelming urge to go down on me, although I rarely get away without her at minimum giving t head a lick, and a promise.

Now the last few days, her Aunt Flo has come to visit. In our newlywed days, as soon as her discomfort passed we were throwing down a towel and making up for lost time. Not so much in recent years. Since starting this blog, and just generally re-connecting in a very sexual way as of late, we are resenting aunties interruptions. We are again kicking her out the door early so we can resume making the beast with two backs and looking for creative ways around her intrusion. A couple of nights ago, despite my thinking I would stay manned up for a while, I waxed a good portion of my legs, and being entirely to chicken for a full Brazilian, trimmed then ended up shaving the rest. I have not been totally bare there for 28 years. We both think it looks kind of funny, but it feels amazing to me. She liked how it felt on her tongue and the wonderment and discovery and exploration that led to very much reminded me of the first few times that I watched in wonder as she teased and tongued and tickled to find my most sensitive spots.

I love my cock sucking wife.

Manly pictures. The husband.

I think Ive mentioned previously that I hated having my picture taken under any circumstances. There are maybe 3-4 pictures of me in existence from 16 to 26. The wife is an avid photographer and has gotten begrudging support from me of the years in family pictures which seemed a not- unreasonable request.

When I started experimenting with Crossdressing, I found I really liked having my picture taken that way. Interesting side effect of female impersonation was how I felt about my male physique. I used to be pretty skinny and the general commentary I received was that I was slightly effeminate. The art and sophistry of playing dress-up taught me how many visual clues had to be hid that just SCREAM "It's a dude!" My jaw, my shoulders, my hands, my but, hips all give me away.

I have been going through the process of going to a work in a very rugged, manly man environment. I felt that until I got thorough the hiring, process. As a recreational, straight crossdresser I don;t see it as a 'need' more of a fun kink, (I think). I have avoided waxing for the last couple of months which is silly since plenty of manly athletes are smooth, but never-the-less, thats what I did.

Now that I can shave again, I am kind of anxious to shave because I want to see how she and I look in lesbian porn. On the other hand, I can shave anytime and it'll take a month or so to butch up again.

I wasn't that interested in pics of my manly side until recently when she ran across a thread with a really good photographer who is his own model. I am not sure what she liked more his pics or his abs. I found them interesting in that it wasn't the usual 'dick pics' even though he has shown it in some pictures. The were oddly tasteful. Odd perhaps only to me, because I think in most cases the male form (including my own) looks a little silly especially when erect. I like most straight porn aficionados have learned to tolerate a dick or two in my field of view as long as it is part of the action so to speak.

I am going to try posing for my wife's camera and see how they turn out. depending on how silly I feel during or after the shoot, I may post them up. Don';t hold your breath. :)

Surreal Fellatio. The Husband

Sitting here in bed with morning wood, I'm not so sure I didn't dream this one. On the other hand I didn't wake up in a sticky pool of my own cum and this was definite wet dream material....

A few days ago on a forum we frequent there were some tiny tiny pictures posted by a new member on that forum. She apparently had pictures taken of herself that were too big for the size limitations of the forum. Whatever program she used to shrink them down to manageable size had made them avatar sized, and the rich detail was lost. Many protested that they couldn't see them, and she mentioned that she hadn't the means to optimize the size. Always proactive in the search of porn, I sent her a message offering to resize them for her. They came over as 2560x1920!!!!! I could see every goosebump on her delicious body. With trembling hands, I resized them to 800x600 and sent them back.

Last night I had dozed off, and The Wife comes in. "Wake up!" she said her whisper warm and humid in my ear...."You have GOT to see this!"

Turns out she had some new pictures. These were taken in public it seems, and were just as interesting if not more so than the first set. As my wife scrolled through the pictures, she had me close my eyes and then open them so I could see it picture full size on the screen in a flash. She reached down and stroked ever so gently my already rigid cock, saying, "I THOUGHT you would like these!"

Only 1/2 joking, I said, "You know I'd enjoy these pics a lot more if your mouth was wrapped around the base of my shaft!" Without hesitation quicker than it takes to tell a virtuoso performance was happening before my eyes as I struggled to keep them open as my eyes rolled up and my head lolled back...That was one of the quickest and most thoroughly draining blow jobs she has managed out of me in years. Sure in my mid twenties when could absolutely decide when I would come, she could draw it out forever in sweet torture if when wanted or suck me off in a minute if she wanted to. My cum was on tap at her demand. Now it seems that it takes a bit more to get the boys to give up their hot *spunk.

I am under no delusions that asking my dear wife to suck my cock while I view nudie pics sent to us by strangers on a regular basis is a good idea, but this once, it was HOT. Just in case this is something that she does want to repeat, I should probably have a good supply of such pics on hand. So if you have a picture or two that you past/present boyfriend/husband/amateur pornographer took of you with his camera/cellphone/Polaroid that you kinda want some one to ogle, but REALLY can't be letting it out all over the internet, feel free to send them to us. We promise to spank wisely over them. Send them to peepinourwindow (then the @ sign) yahoo.com.

K thnks bye






*spunk...this is a referance to a seriers of private messages my wife got from no doubt a 14 year old typing from a computer he built in his parents basement. In the first message, he noted (after having seeing a picture of the lovely Fellatio Artist in action..) ..that she was an 'experienced' woman (AND HOW!, sez I) and cold be of help to him.

He then went on to ask her 'advice'. He explained his dilemma was that he was blessed with apparently fine seminal fluid producing facilities and was a bit concerned with both the sheer volume of his output as well as the velocity with which his apparently impressive delivery system ejaculated it. He being a sensitive young man was concerned about the many eager younger girls that had in the past and would no doubt in the future perform that gentle gift that is my wife's art. His concern was that it might at times be uncomfortable for them. Not because of the jaw tiring effort to open wide and mind the teeth, but because of the possible intimidating effects of his firehose-like blast of, well, spunk.

Throughout his missive when ever he needed a noun to identify his precious seed, he chose spunk. It was a rather spunky communication. Rather than deleting it as she tends to do with such, his sheer transparent audacity captured her grin, and she composed a reply. Her response was lengthy and designed to sound clinical and basically advised him that whether the girl would be eager to gobble his bounty might hinge on taste. She advised him to take a bold swig of it himself and see if it slides down nicely or whether it requires an anti-bacterial soap chaser.

Quick to respond, he readily assured her that he had received no complaints, and that in point of fact several nymphs had waxed positive about the tasty goodness of his seed. Oh I mean his yummy spunk. He also assured her that he on occasion, being the sensitive guy that he was had pre-tested his spunk with his own palate to be assured that as ever the good host he was laying out a delicious feast of spunk for his bevy of cocksuckers.

This went on back and forth for several messages until I suspect his mom came home from work. He thanked The Fellatio Artist for her time and wisdom and announced grandly that he was going to ponder these things as he masturbated up a fresh load of spunk. She certainly hoped he could hold out long enough for some lucky young girl to get her eager throat around his throbbing member.

A dissertation on telephonic stimulation - The Husband

When I was young and shy and virginally pure save for an astonishing level of self abuse, I took to the anonymity of the local phone companies party lines.

Everything I needed to know about life I learned on these sexually charged lines and at the time only cost a nickle a minute. Even at 5 cents a minute I once spent 50% more than my then mortgage payment at the age of 19. So I kind of have a post doctorate degrees in most disciplines of phone sex. To say I was a obsessed was an understatement. I was fascinated with who had tried what, how it felt why they did it, with whom, how often, where, for how long, would they again, and so on. For me more than actual role play sex it was my own personal Masters & Johnson's survey. The thing that I learned most was that every woman is different in what fells good what they like what they like to hear, what they absolutely don;t like to hear and so on. Some honey kinky phone sluts prefer to be called frisky risque rompers, and some rather staid pedantic virgins prefer to be called dirty fitly cum dumpsters. One never knows. I found it helpfully to begin with a basic glossary. I would compile mental lists of words and phrases that was a turn on or a turn off. It was like playing minesweeper a bit.

Somewhere along in here, although I didn't know the term sex-addict, I recognized an unhealthy obsession for what it was. I was finding out if I could quit anytime about the time I met The Fellatio Artist. Of course she didn't then have business cards in that name so I knew her by another name, the one I sometimes call out whilst receiving her tender ministrations. At some point after our initial tentative and really very sweet courtship we were trying to find ways to respect my limits as a 25 year old virgin (really!) and for me to feel that I wasn't further adding to her long list of debauchery. She was raised with a much healthier respect for the beauty of debauchery than I, but she has changed me, I ain't like that no more as Will Munney would say.

SO looking for middle ground one day we had some sexually charged telephone conversations that probably started with what are you wearing, and ending with satisfied sighs on her part and some sticky guilt on my end. The next day I came closer than ever to giving up my cherry to her in a fit of why the hell not, but I held out until a month after my 27th birthday. She still wonders why the hell not. Well - other than the obvious benefits of keeping your orally fixated girlfriend in a perpetual state of homeyness.

When I promised to love honor and cherish, that did include phone sex in my mind, I have fallen short on that pledge a time or two, but until an awkward conversation yesterday, and always maintained a pretense of nobility in that area of putting my past behind me. I have been no phone slut, but I have on rare and extremely guilty occasions indulged when the opportunity presented itself. I believe I have more appendages (as she currently allows me to keep) than actual occurrences over the past 15+ years, but denial runs deep, and I am loath to itemize.

Now as far as the aforementioned pledge, when I took that, AL Gore had not yet invented the porn filled interweb so I am not sure it apples. On a serious note though I do consider it cheating, and have admitted to her (usually shortly or perhaps days of meekness) after getting caught each time that I have so indulged. I rationalized to myself that if it isn't actual role play, then it isn't cyber sex and no harm is done. The harm is done mostly because my wife's parents endowed her with genetics that dictated a genus IQ and therefore she is not sufficiently stupid not to know something is going on when I spend all night downstairs on a computer or I close a window on a laptop. The problem always was not so much the act but the secrecy. My furtiveness only helped to fuel her imagination to heights that I could go places that my tortured fractured existence would never conceive of as possible let alone probable.

So now I am running rampant through the web with the full knowledge and barely believed (by me) encouragement of my wife who has decided her core belief that I love her and only her always is valid and is ultimately unassailable by outside forces as is hers for me.

We are thinking of co-authoring a book. Her working title is "Reigning in Your Sex Addict by Becoming a Cyberslut." This is hereby and forthwith copyrighted 2007 so don't take it.

She has always enjoyed some online activities together such as surfing for porn and together prior to the universal availability of the Internet we had had some sexy discussions with others of various dial-up BBS. She actually dialled back her interest in these areas in an effort not to enable me.

Ok, I told you that so I can tell you this.