Will clean for kink. - the (husband?)

The previous night's session where I was able to fully feel my (insert my femme name here) side. This is monumental because a current rugged job upcoming physical suggests I stay my macho, (relatively here) , hairy self. No wig, (although for fun I did put it on for some post-coital cuddling) no makeup, no sexy lingerie, although I did slip on a pair of plain cotton high cut panties to keep the optional equipment package stowed away. The results below speak for themselves.

We have glossed over the gender issues I have previously because this blog isn't really about that. I have one for chronicling my journey of self-discovery and don't wish to link the two or make this one yet another just spicier version of the other. This blog is about unrestricted kink and playing dress-up as I like to think of it is just a small part. It has been a non-existent part lately because its hard to feel femme when you are a couple of months since you last waxing..(ladies, am I right here?)

Cliff Notes on gender:

Gender Identity is what you have between your ears, (no not your mouth - Pervert!) It is what you perceive in your brain as to whether you are a "boy" or "girl" as defined in your particular culture. Sex is defined by your actual genitals. Sexual Preference has to do with what sex you find yourself attracted to and has nothing to do really with the other two but is inexorably linked in most peoples minds.

For me these three permutations present thusly: I perceive myself as not quite a boy, less so a girl. Maybe 65/35 male female. I am decidedly endowed with all of the primary and secondary sexual characteristics of a male with no plans or desires to alter my optional equipment package. I am assuredly gynephilic as far as my orientation. Too sum up: I am a male fetishist crossdresser that digs chicks.

The reason this hasn't really intruded into our love-life is that no matter how I feel - I like chicks and fortunately I married one. The other reason this has been a non-issue is that until 6 months ago I was deeply closeted from the world, my wife and in hindsight, even myself. I mean I was aware that the dude in the pantyhose in the mirror was in fact me, but I wouldn't have described myself as a transvestite. I knew I was something, but didn't have a term for a straight crossdresser which if I had coined the term I would assume that it was an oxymoron. My reluctance to ponder these occasional closeted urges were probably rooted generically in some homophobia, and specifically in the unfortunate results of the experimentation of a pre-schooler being thoughtlessly crushed by a misguided, over-reacting mother.

Now that I have shared this (and by shared I mean got caught with a satchel full of women's clothes) with my wife, we have had fun figuring out where my femme persona fits in sexually. We still don't know but its one of those "the trip is more fun than the destination" sort of things. We have discovered that so far if I was gay I apparently would not be a bottom, except maybe in a prison sort of situation. I do think it is a little insulting to women and lesbians alike to describe myself as a lesbian trapped in a male body. Because I'm not sure any lesbians want a clit my size.

Prior to my "sharing session" with my wife...(now THAT was an interesting exchange) I had only crossdressed maybe once in bed as a lark, she thinks she initiated it I think I did. I liked it. A lot. I was embarrassed to say so, so I spent the next 15 years dressing up only in my mind when we role played say two girls at a slumber party.

At the time that I had purchased that satchel of thrift store clothes to figure out my sizes with the help of an online acquaintance that was also an crossdresser admirer. I had figured out that I was a bulging size 14 skirt and maybe a 16 top.

A word about the proportions of man my wife married. When we met she probably had me by 20 lbs. Before the eventual wedding she lost 25 and her country cooking raised me 20 so that on her wedding day she had what every bride wants, a scale reading lower than her groom. I was always of a slight build having given up upper body development to the ravages of genetics, indifferent eating habits and endurance sports. I had to have custom tailoring or sometimes with great (but ironic now) chagrin at buying from the juniors department.

A decade and a half later at nearly 170 I could buy off the rack at any mens department. Sad commentary on our society that mens wear requires a minimum of 10-12% body fat. Men carry their weight around their waist and above, women in their hips. The most androgynous people if you notice tend to be slender. The reason is that it is the distribution of fat that most closely identifies the differing sexes in the human species. Evolution says hips and breasts mean ready to birth children, and a big beer belly means one can feed extra mouths.

I was by no means obviously fat, but I had found my stamina down and that I couldn't run because of joint problems and some bionic hardware from an adrenaline related mishap. I begin to diet with a stated goal of 135. I went from 14, to 12, to 10, then 9, 8's and now depending on how its cut to accommodate my size 14 clavicles and ribcage, I can squeeze into a size 6 gown. I'd puff out my chest with pride but male rib cages tend to bust seems in prom dresses.

Along the way, the lovely Fellatio Artist, who on at least 5 occasions did not complete her task resulting in 5 additional mouths to feed, has been losing weight at nearly 2 to one clip. We have a fairly friendly competition going. We refer to each other as "Bitch!" at each new low the other hits. I still weigh less but she is rapidly closing in as I hit the practical and probable healthy bottom of the plunge. I got compliments at 155, questions about what besides diet and exercise accounted for the loss at 145, and concerned looks from some when I finally crashed through the floor of my goal. When I hit 130 I tried in vain to break the healthy eating habits and portion control but I still slid lower hitting 128. I feel great, and if I was actually working out or running, I could probably be healthy at 115. Now approaching my bulked up wedding weight it sets an impossibly low bar to ask the mother of my 5 children to limbo under. I (and apparently hundreds of you lingering over the pictures) think she looks great but she is as I said competitive, and no tranny husband of hers is gonna weigh less.

The other day combining disparate conversations of late on gender roles, dominance/submission, and weight loss I suggested a practical incentive for me to remember to eat. Any day I dipped below 130, I am her bitch for the day.

Yesterday was the first of my sub-130 'subbie' days. The Fellatio Artist, though talented in many ways besides her ability to suck the chrome off a tailpipe, does not count dominatrix among her varied job descriptions. I assured her that I was simply abdicating decision making responsibilities, as my diminished weight didn't provide the nourishment such high level thinking requires. I said I simply planned to serve her for the day at her pleasure. I explained that I was going to do some housework while she was at work, and just needed her to point me in a general desired direction. I also pointed out that we are both concerned about my long hours spent online and that she might well both suggest some limitations on both time and content of such activities. With a grin she offered me the choice of cleaning the bedroom or making her a photography studio out of the garage. The garage was out..not because it is man's domain, as her bitch I'd gladly give it over. My future track car is stuck in there and the spring is broken on the jammed door so there just isn't a way to carve out room without taking a torch to the car and hauling it out in pieces, and I was pretty sure that that was not going to be required of me.

She called a while later and set me on a schedule of 30 minutes work, 15 minute online specifically watching cunnilingus. She announced that on her return she would be having a quick shower and laying back to allow me to show her what I had learned in my time online for the day. I got a bit hyper focused on cleaning the shower, then the entire bathroom as well as washing towels and her soft pink fluffy robe that I spent a couple of my breaks cleaning and fund the whole thing fairly relaxing.

Rose Bushes....The Geek

There is a line in Saving Private Ryan when Tom Hanks says, "Oh,... no... That memory is just for me."

We have come to use the phrase Rose Bushes to mean special moments that somehow seem to be almost sullied in the re-telling. Seems silly now in light of the wildly explicit recounting of some things we have shared here from behind a mask of anonymity.

It is no doubt more exciting for us to page back and relive some of these moments though so it seems a fair trade off. Throw in the exhibitionist thrill of the possibility of someone jack-or-jill-ing off to the imagery or the images, and it seems so worth leaving the virtual shades up and the lights on.

There are times though like tonight that the idea that an especially powerfully full-filling session was in some way brought about by playing to the audience whether it be the house as a whole or a face in that crowd, it almost cheapens the moment.

I do want to say something about the experience both to get my thoughts on it on paper, and to express my appreciation to the moment and to my wife and the process that led up to the time together.

I feel in writing this a little like I do when tackling a post on my vanilla blog where I try to keep it family friendly while still being relevant. What I wanted to say in broad strokes was that we were very intimate tonight. In every sense of the word. We seemed very connected to each other and to thoughts and well wishes we have received from others. The physiological responses were amazing but it was the levels of trust that were most profound. It seemed to me that her trust in me to love and cherish only her as I blog and read and chat and explore all came together to make me a better lover. It was validating for me.

I am not saying that the details themselves of the lovemaking need be kept from view, rather if when she wakes from slumber she feels the muse to detail from her perspective what she felt I wouldn't mind hearing every explicit detail straight form her lips or along with the rest of you from her keyboard. I just wanted to stay in the moment myself and enjoy a moment of quiet if smug satisfaction with maybe a quiet wink to the unnamed muse.

HONEY DO LIST - The Husband

Well obviously any number of places on her body are in a state of flux in their ranking, but they all rank highly on my Franklin Planner. I should restock it since these 2001 pages are a bit out of sync with the calender on the wall.

I wanted a place to list sexual ideas that either we haven't gotten around to yet or that we want to be sure and revisit. One such item was decidedly not really on this not yet existent list and was crossed off a couple of nights ago. Some things seem really out there in the cold light of day. This one felt that way at the time and immediately after. It was however disturbingly hot. We are both still processing the experience and aren't so sure that this one is gonna make it to the blog.

I plan to use this post and modify it in the future with a sort of wish list/ and a place to check off things when and if we get something (someone?) done. If the sheer volume of fairly clever, but totally unfinished vanilla projects around the house are any indication, then this will remain a work of fantasy fiction.

Make her a custom fitted custom corset from scratch. If I ever finish that I'll start one for me.

Engineer a support strut in the vaulted ceiling of our master bedroom to support up to a couple of us. Hang a lovely plant from the hook.

Re-purpose my sawzall.

Turn the industrial strength massage machine acquired from her aunt into a ride-on sybian.

Weld up a cage, or failing that, maybe some hand-forged shackles, or at minimum some hand tooled leather restaints.

I have a vague sketch in my head of a rotisserie that I can place an intrusive member perhaps at each end.

Improve upon my home made nipple clamps.

Do some painstaking (what's the name Japanese robe bondage?)

Set up a photographic studio corner somewhere.

Install a whirlpool bath.

Raise the bed frame to a more ergonomic height for on / off the bed play.

Sound proof the walk-in closet.

Re purpose the hammer drill. Meet a an attractively kinky dental hygienist with access to oodles of that quick-set molding putty.

Attend a local swing band annual 1940's dance in period costume.

String up a hammock.

Put some swing in the swingset.

Put in some very cool against the backside granite counter tops with soft bull-nose edges.

Re-engineer the support bracing for the kitchen table for more industrial applications.

Scout new public locations that afford a modicum of privacy.

Take a nap.

More tired than horny..but only just..

Tired and going to sleep in a costume that out of context of us would be silly, but feels kinda cozy in a way. I am disjointed in my thinking, preparing to doze, checking blogs I like.

Frenzied Laptop Repair...The Geek

Our HP laptops are both PLAGUED by problems with power supply issues.They are completely different models, I think mine is based on an older HP laptop platform from before the merger with Compac, and hers is (since i have taken it apart 3 times now) I think an older Compac sub-notebook platform that was adapted and re-purposed to to fit a larger case that could accommodate a larger monitor than the originally designed small notebook.

The toddler (who tonight surprising no one interrupted a planned spanking induced endorphin releasing session) has repeatedly grabbed the cords and either damaged the cord or the socket or both. For what we have spent on circuit boards, power cords and aggravation we could easily buy a new laptop and fight over who gets the old HP. I used to LOVE all things HP, and owned nothing but, but I will not be purchasing from them again. The desktop sits dead downstairs. That HP lasted 18 months..(for a desktop!!!)

Anyway the rant got the better of me, but maybe if the engineers at HP (who I think are probably really competent) are reading sex blogs in frustration that corporate is letting sales guys and repurposing recommending accounting guys dictate how product is engineered, then my rant shall not be in vain. SO zip up boys and get back to work. If anyone from HP wants to send me a complimentary laptop to evaluate, I shall be delighted to praise it here if after my trial period of say 12 months plus a day I can still use it to type with.

Sorry readers for the digression, this post really is going to get kinky, bear with me...

Anyway what I wanted to say is that while my wife (who finally got the toddler asleep on her ample bosom) slept, somewhat satisfied but im need of some stripes across her ass, I fired up the laptop and went online. I went to a yahoo ID that she does not know (at the moment) the name of, and was delighted to find a recently acquired friend of mine was online.

We recently had another little trust/honesty session that was really fulfilling I think for us both.

My wife and I that is, not the girl and I. ~really got to watch to be sure that the antecedent to the pronoun is clear in my prose~ I haven't had occasion to lie to my friend as of yet, but I don't know her that well yet.

In the course of the session where she granted trust freely with no quid pro quo expected, I offered honesty. Partly because she also had made a minor disclosure in that in 'checking' up on me at a site she knows I have, er well gotten entangled in before, she met an honorable gentleman who helped her to see me in a new light. Whether her new perspective on my character flaws is accurate or not, I am grateful to him for the solace he gave her. In short he is a happily married man more or less my age, who was on the very site that concerned her. He explained to her in sincere terms his love for his own wife and that nothing that his wife did or didn't do propelled him in anyway to that site, and that he was far from looking for a replacement but was simply as I understand it (third hand at least by now) looking to meet some of his sexual interests or needs without placing unreasonable demands on his wife who, as he sees it has a bit lower level of interest in these things than he. I don't know that that directly translates for us, but it did help my wife feel better. In our case its really strictly my issues, I sometimes crave sneaky secrecy for its own sake. I love voyeurism for its own sake as well.

This came up because we are now really enjoying our time on that site together it features erotic writing by amateur writers just venting the fantasies in their heads and my personal favorites a "Hey what do you think of this pic of me I just snapped" section. Between the 15 lb monster in out bed and the sex when she finally goes to sleep I was exhausted, so after seeing some of the feedback there to pics we posted and enjoying my wife's blush at the private messages some sent, I went to sleep with the yawning instruction that she was to lure some young girl onto yahoo for a chat and that I expected to see a hot transcript after my nap.

I awoke to her report that she was "too shy" to actually hit on a woman, but she had had a conversation with a guy about shy it is that she was up and horny and I slept. She admitted that she had sent a link to our blog so she could defend my manhood with an explanation of the yeoman's work I have been accomplishing lately and that I had earned my rest,

Up to this point we had by mutual agreement decided not to direct anyone we knew here so that we would be unfettered and free and unembarrassed by the filth. We had talked the night before about letting this person who we just met or that one have it, but we had held off, not on the principle itself, just that none had seemed "blog-worthy" (apologies to Seinfeld's classic "sponge worthy" episode). It wasn't a hard and fast rule at all that moth must agree or anything, just each time we finally agreed that they hadn't "earned" admission to our rose garden.

In this manner the story came out as to who it is that she had given the URL to, and I am more than OK with that. I actually feel a bit of a debt to the man, so if he is reading it now, I salute you sir. I shall at some point think of suitable recompense, like maybe an a picture of her ass with your initials reddened upon it. (we have been in spanking mode as of late.)

In turn, told her about my recent acquaintance in broad terms but haven't yet figured out a way to introduce the two.

I actually did something like that once and it turned out a little surreal, (imagine that). In the former case, I met a girl that was interested in crossdressed males, and helped me to connect preciously isolated (in my defensive and fragmented mind) incidents in my life with the words, "I am a crossdresser". Not to digress yet again in another random direction but despite having worn women's things in private at times and feeling silly and even dressing in bed with my wife once, I just refused to see myself that way. Denial is really powerful. So this girl helped me to figure out sizes and styles and deportment for what was my debutante to my wife. I eventually introduced the two, and they are now confidants, and the friend worries that my wife is enabling my compulsive issues with permissiveness, and that is without her knowing how out there we really have gotten as of late. If she really did know she'd be agasp, but in some ways she has a valid point.

Anyway, let me take this moment to publicly do what I should have done when I first met her. (The girl that is, not my wife. The girl was a child when I met my wife. Again with the antecedents.)

Randomly Met Online Girl, this is my wife, The Fellatio Artist. The Artist (formerly known as just, Dear) this is a great Girl I Met Randomly Online.

That said, I wanted to recap for my dear wife a bit of what happened after she went to sleep tonight. She of course knows about the typing all night because she opened an eye from time to time with resigned but loving resignation that I was on a manic roll. I shall attempt to atone by bringing her an ICY cold Diet Dr. Pepper in the 20 oz bottle (she swears that size tastes better) laden with caffeine to her work tomorrow.

I made sure she was OK with me giving this girl the Blog's URL and explained that I wanted to go onto Yahoo and chat, and that I might well work on the masturbation exercises she has assigned me as of late. Not that the girl directly indulges me, but hearing of some of her adventures often gets me going in a voyeuristic, pervy way. She smiled sleepily and wished me well.

I talked to Randomly Met Online Girl at length like this:

I said (2:05 AM): hi!!!!

She said (2:05 AM): HI!

I said(2:05 AM): I am in bed next to my wife who may or may not be reading over my shoulder

She said (2:06 AM): Hehe, you're paranoid... hopefully

I said (2:06 AM): not paranoid, she really can see if she opens her eyes,but the great news...

I said (2:06 AM): its ok!

I said (2:07 AM): I have mentioned our friendship

I said (2:07 AM): she and I are both on *********** together even posted pics

She said (2:07 AM): Yay!

She said (2:07 AM): I am proud of you both!

I said (2:08 AM): anyway...

I said (2:08 AM): we have everything out in the open

I said (2:09 AM): She even, while she was hurt last week because she suspected I was on, had made an acquaintance that for her is similar to the way you and I talk

She said (2:09 AM): Cool

She said(2:09 AM): How are you with that?

I said (2:10 AM): he helped her see that he, like I loves his wife,and he,and I being on ************* aren't there because we aren't fulfilled at home

I said (2:10 AM): I'm cool with it...

She said (2:11 AM): Good,

I said (2:11 AM): she did send him a link to our sex blog through chat, and I was feeling a little guilty about wanting to have done the same with you, but I hadn't linked you..we have decided we are both cool with giving out the address so I'm sending you there.

So she and I chatted on, after several miscues since she is on some sort of portable device she was able to reach the blog and read. She was complementary of the writing and the pictures and (I beamed) my nails, ~the were press-ons but I wasn't sure anyone noticed~

She gave me some descriptive details about a DVD that apparently reading our blog prompted her to pop into the player, and I was in fact practicing my masturbatory skills imagining what she might be thinking about reading the blog. It felt really weird with a sleeping wife and toddler in the bed. It was at this moment that I got the low battery message and was barely able to diagnose the problem. (fatal decapitation of the entire end of the cord) before I lost power entirely. (And you thought the beginning was irrelevant!)

In the light for the bathroom I anxiously performed surgery on the cord armed with mere fingernail scissors. I twisted the wires into place, crossing my fingers that the 50% chance that the polarity wasn't reversed would pay off for me before I hit the big whammy on a the expensive battery. This impressive procedure was done entirely by feel because at age 40 my eyesight for close work inexplicably failed especially in low light conditions, probably would have happened at 30 if my mother hadn't so lovingly delayed my masturbatory pursuits. I still have 20/15 and 20/20 for distance but haven't for days been able to find the glasses I need to read a soup can.

It worked.

What was really beautiful about the moment though was not the bask in my geeky competence with all things mechanical, but not electrical unless it is a mechanical connection...

It was that I felt confidant of the reply I would have gotten if I had nudged my dear sleeping wife and said, can I borrow your laptop, there is a cute girl I was chatting with and my laptop died. The ONLY reason I would have hesitated was I wouldn't have wanted to disturb her already interrupted and poor quality sleep.

Ironically, my friend had to sign off abruptly not to long after I got back on, but not off. I suspect that she is unfortunately not in a place where absolute trust and honesty is workable in her home. I hope that one way or another she and the other readers if any that have soldiered on through this massive missive find a happy and comfortable balance in their lives between privacy/honesty/openness and trust in their lives too. It feels really nice like a longslowsoftbackrub which my wife has earned more than the spankings she craves currently.

The exigencies of parenthood...The Husband

Two years and a day ago we were having kinky raunchy animalistic sex. I believe the moment was actually captured on 8 mm videotape at the time. At the end of a marathon session that began as we waited, bored for the Black Friday line to begin forming at our local Walmart. We had our eyes on the $400 HP laptop for the fellatio artist. Who new the consequences of that Thursday night.

With our youngest child finally in school we were getting re-acquainted in the kinkiest of ways in every room of the house on school days. We hadn't actively taken any preventative measures but years of infertility left us feeling that the sex was more recreational than procreational. We had had trouble with conceiving and after a little plumbing re-route to cool the overdeveloped blood supply in my testes,had resulted in a quick succession of our 2nd, 3rd and 4th (and we thought last) child.

Despite standing in line for several hours rather than the approved legs in the air like a dead cockroach fertility pose, one of my boys defied gravity and swam up through her hostile acidity and the very last one, a runt to judge by the size of the offspring, diving through the membrane of one of her last eggs.

Flash forward two years, we have a lilliputian toddler who is demanding and spoiled completely out of scale to her size. We now own that second laptop, so we type kinky things to each other via the audience of the whole world in a blog as the toddler tries for the umpteenth time to chew,bend, yank or otherwise molest the fragile power cords and their connection.

That last post, just scant moments ago began with promise. The small but evil one was out cold and the wife was naked on the futon we have thrown on the floor in desperation for some privacy and some ability to fuck at anything more than a languorous don't-wake-the-baby pace.

Lo and behold the wife cellphone chimes in mid pump...her sister from her delightfully open-minded family excused herself when my wife explained she had caught us mid-coitus.

The damage was done. The beatific smile on the little urchin's face is heartwarming, but a bit of a deflation in my er, well ardor. So I guess that just means the extraneous sperm production will be held in reserve to gush forth in copious quantities later.

She just closed and locked the door and is stripping down..

What I love most about her hard work about losing weight is the confidence it gives her to take it all off in broad daylight and as you can see..for the camera!

I gotta go..

I let you know how it turns out..

~the husband..

Almost came....The Nerdish Husband.

You would think as a fully proficient, pre-information age, last of the babyboom generation certifiable geek,that I would have a real 'handle' on wanking off.

The Wifey, a fine diddler in her own right, has always encouraged me in my self-molestation attempts. On occasion, though it is a real shame to pull out of her warm, wet willing mouth,I have finished myself off imitable porno stud style to provide creamy protein to tighten the skin on her lovely face.

Generalized tossing one off though seems to be a problem for me. Not that I can't get off from my self-ministrations,but the level of privacy I seem to require for this borders on the ridiculous. I prefer that she be out of the room and for that matter out of the house when I feel such an urge. It isn't that I am shy. In fact I feel that by ow I would be a dirty old man in a trench coat if not for a rather sad abortive flashing attempt with the neighbor girl at 14. (Not that she wasn't enthusiastic about my display, but inviting her little brother to view the show cooled my ardor a bit, but I digress..) I like stroking it for her and her little touches and licks that so often lead to a blow-job are wonderful.

Part of the problem is that when I discovered masturbation about the time I was letting the neighbor discover my maleness, it was an organic self taught process. There was a smut provider called ON TV that broadcast scrambled signals over the airwaves late at night. Subscribers were given a black box that arranged the signals properly. Being a geek I realized that signals in the open are signals and that the only way (this is in the pre-digital age) to mess them up is to broadcast between the set frequencies assigned given channels. Using an older tv with a manual tuner I had my choice, good sound and vibrant but squiggly color or snowing black and white silent film. I went with the silent version and read lips. And learned. Sort of.

Despite my dad's generous offer to have my mom (a registered nurse) show me in pictographs in her medical books how it is that a sperm actually gets inside an egg, I had declined this advanced instruction course. So repressive was what was unsaid in my home that when it was time to view the sixth grade sex education film, I was too embarrassed to bring home the permission slip. I was mortified when the teacher offered to let me go next door to watch if I "thought my parents would be OK with it". Worse yet was hearing the ENTIRE film word for word through the wall of the dual classroom portable building as I sat with the girls who stifled most giggles but not grins as we all learned about nocturnal emissions.

So back to the snowy pictures. I would watch as studs in these relatively tame pornos went at their buxom conquests. I was a bit frustrated that the angles were always devised to show no ore than a little late 70's bush, but not the level of detail my inquisitive mind required. I was fascinated a bit with the bouncing breasts, but not really in a sexual way. As the 2nd of seven children I only saw my mothers bosom free of a child about every other year as she weaned each successive child. To me breasts were nourishment not really the delightfully sensitive erogenous zones I see them as now. I probably worried a bit that the poor girls obviously swollen udders would leak if the stud kept up his rough treatment.

Rather than taking things in hand as I later reflected in my room on those things I had seen I merely laid on my belly with my maleness threatening my belly-button and gently humped the mattress, much as in those modest pornos the guys seemed to be humping the girls. I honestly didn't quite understand that there is a vaginal opening as well as a urethra and penetration unseen was not in the realm of my imaginings. The first time I had an "emission" in a nocturnal setting, I was very much awake, and quite surprised. I felt a little guilty and a lot sticky.

I persisted in my pursuit of this little amazing trick achieving great proficiency to wilder and wilder fantasies in my head. Most improbable, many technically not feasible, but the main thing is I got off. A lot.

I caught on later that the standard "beating off" hand gestured represented an alternate style, but that way always seemed crass and crude to me. I was under the impression that only perverts and losers masturbated at all much less in such a wanton manner. Privacy even when I finally had my own room at about 14 with the addition of three more rooms on a 4 bedroom tract home still did not exist. My mother, truly making Norman Bates mother seem reasonable would burst in announced at odd times for what I know believe were exactly what I thought they were then, attempts to catch me molesting myself.

I have been, with the wifey's loving encouragement been working on a one-handed technique that both is more interactive for two and photographs better. I woke her yesterday humping the bed re-living one of our many recent romps. I threatened to finish it off with a morning facial. Yesterday while I was uploading the pic on this blog I imagined the hordes of wankers that might well beat-off to pics of my wife..(I am NOT even going to consider the prospect of those with more adventurous orientation including me in their musings). It has always amused me that the freshman nympho that was dating the senior captain of the football team happily ended up with the nerd. The idea that others can see and perhaps be a little envious of the attention and more to the point amazing fellatio. She was down making us omelettes and came up to ask me whether I wanted portobellos in mine. She noted I was doing a modified wank. (I can actual cum in a non-prone position but it is usually as I grope myself against my will through my clothes in a semi-involuntary way usually while reading something provocative. Pictures and videos aren't my first choice, unless they are illustrative of the verbiage. She smiled encouragingly as I announced I intended to toss one off. She apparently took that to mean this was a continuation of my earlier announced intention to finish off with a morning facial. She was a bit crestfallen as she returned with the steaming breakfast, fully expecting to have some of that "on the side" as Meg Ryan would say only to find me finished and smugly satisfied.

This morning as I awoke with a fantasy in my head about her offering her photographic services for boudoir photos, I was more careful not to rock the bed during my humping and managed to getup, close and lock the door and drop trou over her before she sleepily opened her eyes. She (as she often does) cheated by licking the glistening drop of retcin from the tip. I was jacking away over her face eager to please her with her promised treat. I forgot to mention that last night I had showed her the site "Beautiful Agony" one that I had forgotten finding in one of my solitary masturbatory sessions. Overcoming my inborn squeamishness, we watched the facial expressions of a dude cranking one out. This morning she laughed gently about the fact that my distracted staring at the wall technique chanting silently in my mind, "cum on her cum on her cum on her..." wouldn't film well for a submission to beautiful agony. That broke the spell a little and just made me aware that I was "chasing" an elusive orgasm and was likely not going to cum.

I have threatened to bind her, gag her, and blindfold her and THEN give her whats coming to her just to fulfill the promise.

Audience Participation...The Husband

Without any real planning the audience seems to be made up of a few visitors that straggle over from a blog that lists links to blog posts about masturbation. Most go to that post read it and leave without actually reading more. Thats fine, especially if that one relatively tame post by The Wife gets you off!

Knowing that a few people read our adventures is really getting her off, and often. She even decided to post a picture of me half-way impaled in her on a post. This led to editing some past posts to illustrate them with some kinky pics.

She has always liked taking pictures even kinky ones but never to post online. She would really really like to hear from someone,anyone that is reading these posts. We discussed the possibility of some sort of kinky reward for the first poster. The first person to send a note to our email address with a little bit about who they are and what it is they liked about the blog gets a treat. Scooby snacks anyone? send to peepinourwindow *@* yahoo *DOT* com

She is in a REALLY kinky mood and up for just about anything. Toss in a suggestion and we might just act it out and post up some pictures.

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.

Public Sex _ The Husband

We were at an event and found that its start had been delayed 45 minutes. We considered going to an adjacent park that at least had trees. It should not be this warm in November. I think it is possibly due to Al Gore's heat pumps on his mansion, heating up the country.

We got in the Soccer-mom-mobile and headed out. The plan was to find some desert privacy and mess around a bit. As we drove we found that urban sprawl had taken up a lot of the available places to hide out for teenage and married perverts alike.

The City put in this cool round-about where a freeway exit will be in the future. By then she had my pants unzipped and was gobbling cock in a noteworthy manner. I went around and around the roundabout timing each revolution to not coincide with any tall vehicles. eventually traffic started getting heavier by maybe the 6th time around so,I headed out again. We found a place where people park at a trail head into the desert. There was a vehicle empty there. Backing in and opening the passenger door I had a good screen from traffic from the other vehicle and the door. She was really really ready it seemed as I had no trouble at all slipping inside as she positioned herself on the edge of the seats. I was really going at it in spurts each time there was a break in the occasional traffic. I could see over my shoulder a ways before traffic came to the corner and started down the road we were on and a long view of the others. I felt I had a very good early warning system.

What did I overlook? The owner of the van next to us! He apparently either was finished with whatever he was doing tromping around in the desert or came back to figure out what we were doing lurking next to his car. There is no way he DIDN'T see at least enough to know what we were doing..I grabbed my pants up to my waist and drove off in a cloud in less time than it takes to tell leaving the portable chair on the roof as I went. I had placed it there to give the impression I was unloading or loading the van to anyone that happened by. It flew back as we took off and would have been gone for good because no way in hell were we going back red-faced for a #10 chair. The drawstring on its carrying bag had caught on an adjustment screw on the roof rack on its way back. We stopped grabbed the chair and giggled uncontrollably. Getting back to the rolling blow job I had to yank her hair up when I saw police lights on several vehicles ahead on the desert road. As we drew closer there were 4 cop cars and some teenagers in handcuffs...Pshew! Not a checkpoint for DWI, seeing as how I was not exactly dressed.

We finally found a road labeled no trespassing and listing the statute wherein we might be prosecuted for our willful disregard for said posted notice. On we went. It seemed to be an access road to service cell towers on the nearby peak. There was also a gun club adjacent but the down range direction seemed to put us out of harms way, and I figured over the sound of firearms through earplugs, they were unlikely to hear anything if we got a little loud. I pulled over and attempted to finish what I started. This was much less likely to be interrupted with no notice than the last place, but I found I couldn't concentrate on cumming. I was able to roger her soundly and elicit some loud noises from her as I encouraged her to be vocal. It has been a DAMN long time since she didn't have to muffle her vocalizations. That was really hot.

Having read her last post here some time before we went I took that as a green light for some back door action as I fucked her in the side-door. I had her flip over and kept fucking her wet pussy for a while wanting the anal to be a little less expected. That didn't go as well as I was at an odd angle and couldn't quite find my way anatomically at first without some guidance. then the soreness she still had from last night combined with no lube and the odd angle, and the sphincter tightening thrill of danger of getting caught combined to make that attempt a little less than fulfilling. We decided to head back to our event and did so with big smiles, even if as usual she won the orgasm count. Her several, me none, but I will collect the debt later.

Low-impact Sexercise.

We have been considering whether this blog is reflecting or actually shaping our sex life. There does seem to have been a slightly higher than the mean kink quotient this past week. I have been wondering wen the next creative impulse might hit, and she is kind of hoping her soreness will recede before the next wave of kink looms above.

We have decided that we are going to try a bit of gentle vanilla "love-making" tonight. On the other hand some of the kinkiest times we had when our relationship was in its first bloom was when we actually discussed in advance how "good" we were going to be. Setting boundaries seems to be something that just inspires us to rub up against them..mmm rub up against...~nostalgic~

I suggested perhaps I should tie her up so as to keep her from exceeding her stated parameters. She wasn't so sure that would keep it vanilla tonight.

Ok, lets see, candles? check...lighter? hmm better go look for that.

To link or not to link.. the husband

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My COCK belongs to her....

I didn't know what an affinity for administering measured doses of pain, unit I actually tried it. I knew from my Boy Scout days that I was a whiz at knots, just hadn't really associated the bowline, the square hitch or the sheet-bend with the bondage applications. I learned fast though and really enjoy leaving a red hand print, or the occasional raw nipple.

In reading various things in places I probably ought not be, I have become fascinated with the concept of the switch. I mean I get how its fun to wield the paddle.Its about control and sadism, and kink. What I like best about it is the effect such things have on my wife. I am constantly amazed at how demonstrably wet she can get from these things if the mood is right and the build-up is gradual. Kind of funny though because out of the bedroom, (other than childbirth) I seem to have a higher pain threshold than her.

I only understand the masochistic side from watching my wife cum from submission. I have wondered whether it might not be possible to see it from her end, if she were to try her hand at my end so to speak.

We have talked about it, experimented a little, usually resulting in giggles.

Now last night was another story. She was understandably irritated with me through-out the day when she realized from my squirrelly sidesteps online that I had once again chatted up the odd lonely horny woman online. It matters not that most likely the other dude was also pretending to be a lesbian. Its the principle that matters.

I felt guilty, she was mad, then she was guilty that she was as mad as she was (as if these things can be exactly titrated.) I felt guilty that I had somehow manipulated her into feeling bad about making me feel bad. We finally agreed to a do over. She suggested a cuddle. I agreed, although it turned into far from a cuddly experience.

She has always been able to separate her love for me from my behavior and I need to learn from her example. I have trouble feeling anything but numb if I am angry, or guilty or scared, or insecure.

I felt a little more worthy during the beginning dance steps of intimacy last night in a more giving role. More for the room on the bed and trying to not knock a load of laundry off the hope chest at the end of the bed, I was in a bit of an odd position. She has a wonderfully vivid imagination and at times can indulge her bisexual side by forgetting the stubble on the chin that disappears below the horizon of her mons. In addition to that visual, my ass was quite high that as she described it was a lovely heart shape and looking quite spankable.

She went into a kind of new place where she in an encouraging, but dominant in herinstructions of what I should be doing whilst giving her oral pleasure. Getting up, she had an idea and beckoned me to my knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. There on the floor was a chain leash. Fastening it around my neck, she guided me into position and gave positive and negative reinforcement with words and the leash as needed. Interesting. After some twists and turns and an orgasm or two of hers, she said in a husky voice, grabbing my cock.."This is MY cock,you use it for my pleasure and at my pleasure...do you understand?" I was in a very compliant mood and readily assented. Maybe subconsciously she was re-asserting her marital rights? Consciously she says no, but I wondered a bit. At the time I assumed it was an actual message. It seemed timely and topical, so I had no argument.

When she had felt that she had used her love-toy to her satisfaction, she offered me the reward of my choice. She does a phenomenal blow-job, but I was feeling more ala carte. I asked her to choke me. I wanted to imagine I was her and see what she sees as she starts to gray out mid-orgasm. Turns out, the adam's apple makes this a bit less comfortable it would seem. There was a nice feeling that is hard to describe about letting go and trusting. there was an edge of fear that spiked the adrenaline, but the trachea seemed to dislike it in every way.

Later there was some enthusiastic spanking and that did seem to hold promise. As she repeated the slaps to the same spot, I did notice the sensation she has described to me about a numb feeling as the endorphins go to work. Perhaps we will revisit some of these elements at sometime, but we were both agreed afterwards that we excel in our respective roles.

Edit:

1/25/2008

adding a video clip here so so its not in your face on the main page of the blog...I mean who wants a cock right in your face? and for those that do, all in one place one stop shopping.

Y'all are Some Kinky F*cks! - The Husband

I come home to find the wife has been showing off her masturbatory prowess. Mind you, No ONE knows this blog is here it isn't linked to our vanilla life, or slightly interesting online persona's, nothing. We always recognized that from time to time, people might stumble here on their own.

If this is you then well, welcome, sort of.

How come no one has gotten here searching for say, "How to spice up your monogamous relationship" Or "how to keep your marital bed interesting"?

No so far we have had exactly two visitors.

First one was searching on AOL for quite specifically - "asked-me-to-spank-her" funny that phrase in its entirety appeared in my first post I think. They didn't stay long, don;t know if I am disappointed or happy about that. Funny though, because had the wife blogged last night's experiment with switching roles- the search phrase "asked-me-to-spank-him" also would have yielded results. Interesting experience, maybe I'll write a post about that too.

The next came here again using mad search skillz... they typed "blogspot masturbation OR masturbate -mental -intellectual -tee" Pretty clever, that...Why didn't I think -intellectual when I search for masturbatory stories. None of that mental or metaphorical masturbation for me, thanks! I think this one may have been an automated search by a guy that maintains a pretty exhaustive blog of links to masturbation stories. We are now linked on masturbation links it seems.

Tempting to work more kinky language into my vernacular and see what sort of searcher that drags in!

We are planning on just letting this blog grow or wither on its own. No pointing people here, no commenting on other blogs to raise anyone's curiosity.

We might link out of here eventually if there are blogs that we read together and find interesting or relevant, and if someone finds this on their own and want to link thats fine too.

It seems odd to have any traffic at all already.

Kinky 'Pitchers - The Geek

I was tired last night and dozed off early. I awoke to the flash of a camera on the other side of the bed. The artist was feeling creative. There was a tacky (for a bed sheet) burgundy satin sheet tacked to the wall behind her head. Her hair was beautifully curled, makeup set for evening stun.

Lips in a nice glossy "Fuck-Me" red. She was wearing one of my full length slips. Its a shame that women don't really wear them anymore. I think the market for slips and pantyhose is strictly a CD thing, but I digress.

Watching her slutting it up for the camera, I found myself suddenly a lot less sleepy. Despite her protestation of "Watch the lipstick!" I couldn't resist the blatant invitation. Slipping my quickly hard cock between her lips, I did "Fuck- Her"mouth gently, mindful of the liptstick. She got a couple of nice pictures without needing a touch-up. No,we won't be posting those pics, but take my word for it very spankable.

Taking the camera, I took just a few shots as she writhed and played. A great shot that shows absolutely nothing turned out very sexy. Her arm disappearing beneath her gives a hint that she was fingering her wet slit. The glint in her eye and the slight parting of the lips confirms that she is being naughty. This picture in a nice black and white treatment ended up on her medium vanilla blog.

Back on he back, she took a few more self pictures as I diddled her clit. She got a nice picture of her gently cumming. Her head thrown back exposing her vulnerable neck begged for a little strangulation, and the result is the picture you see here.

As a conflicted virgin, I had some kinky urges but was uncomfortable with them. The closest I had ever gotten to anything with a BDSM flavor was a chaste girlfriend that was a pretty enthusiastic aficionado of zipper-grinding. She (and I) would feel guilty when our innocently intentioned make-out sessions ended u with an oops of an orgasm. We had no idea what we were doing but apparently we were aiming for tantric blue-balls. In an effort to keep her from rising up against me and going "too far" I had the bright idea to tie her up. This did keep her from rubbing up against me, but didn't really tone down the kink.

When The Artist met The Geek, she had no such silly reservations about orgasms. Especially if one was making out and rolling around in a bed. At one point she asked me to tie her up. Not sure if I had mentioned my previous boy scout knot tying experience or more likely, the previous girlfriend kink. Regardless, I EAGERLY tied her wrists together and then over head to one side of the headboard. I teased and tickled until to my shock, she asked me to spank her. "Harder!" she urged when my first tentative slap only warmed her bottom, but didn't sting. It took quite a few swats each incrementally harder until I was rewarded with a then strange, but now familiar glazed look of her reaching another place. I was so turned on by this and horrified in a small compartmentalized portion of my mind that I was hitting a woman and really getting off on it. The fact that it was consensual, encouraged and effective entered into my thinking not at all. As she hoarsely whispered her encouragement and said something to the effect that "you like that don't you?" , instinct went somewhere I couldn't; have known about. Very carefully deciding exactly how hard would be attention-grabbing, but not so far that she would want to quit this game of chicken, I slapped her across the face. It was almost out of body and definitely out of character for me. I almost came from that, and I think she might have.

This began a 15 year odyssey of kink. Reading something about asphyxiation play, (dangerous, kids don't try this at home) I once added it to a bit of rough play. It was very well received. There is something incredible erotic for a woman who is after all already spreading her legs and letting you fuck her to trust you in the fervor of rutting to place your hand around her neck. That moment when her eyes start to roll back a little can be intoxicating.

Psychic work-out... ~by The Geek

When I was young, I read a book hat followed the evil-government-agents-want-to-harness-some-kids-secret sort of formula. In the book the kid had E.S.P. I don't recall which ability the kid had, but the scientist were testing him for telekinesis and telepathy and so on. In one test he was to concentrate on a deck of cards and try to predict whether the next card was black or red. They figured out he had psychic abilities when he got 52 cards in a row wrong.

After reading that I practiced. In these sorts of books the kid is always kind of a loner genius. They were obviously writing about me! I somehow scrounged up a deck of cards. This being no easy task in a no-face card, anti-gambling household. I practiced and kept records and read up on probability and statistics and determined with near certainty that either psychic powers as described do not exist, or I was not endowed with these gifts.

I used to close my eyes and imagine flexing my brain like a muscle. I suspect a remote viewer seeing my efforts would have seen a skinny bookish boy, wiggling his scalp intently. Along those lines,I can wiggle my scalp like my Grandfather and Father, but not the ears even though they say these skills are interconnected. I can curl my tongue I might add irrelevantly.

Earlier, I saw the wife updating her blog with some details that might out who we are. I thought it was on our medium strength blog. Turns out it was her straight vanilla blog. This led to discussion of our various blog and this one, sadly awaiting smut to toxic for even people we only know online.

She fired up the blog and typed away. I glanced over and read "I may just blow him tonight".

I jumped up and hopped in the shower. My idea was to come back and type while she was in the shower, and not read hers to see if I can divine at all anything at all psychically as to what her plans are.

Problem is, I suck at typing and she is as we speak, wet, wrapped in a towel, and brushing her teeth.

And I got nothing...

Well I do have a little blood flow to the extremities, but thats not too unusual or in anyway diagnostic.

I had a little idea that when she gets here to feign being in the middle of a real epiphany and unable to stop typing. Type random things if necessary,sort of a written filibuster, trying to get her to begin the process of trying to distract me while I pretend to be intent on something important.

Problem is I'm apt to giggle uncontrollably at the attempt at deception. OK she just said, "well don't type too long." Then further, "If I passed up time with the shower massage to at least take the edge off and you go on one of your typing benders....."

Did I mention that my high school guidance counselor at the beginning of what is know universally know as the information age, advised me against taking typing? On my medium non-vanilla blog, I go on these 1500 word blog entries sometimes 3-4 of these in a night.

I am not going to make it I am getting pretty aroused. Not in the up and locked position mind you, rather in the down and tucked under the laptop mode. She is smearing lotion all over her body.

Next she went to the bathroom for some item and I stripped signaling that I was getting close to finished. Replacing the laptop on my lap, I found I was typppinnng sloooooooower and slower, thought being disjointed as she eased the laptop to the side and began expertly teasing my very stiff cock with her mouth.

She had put down a towel earlier and said I hope you know this is going to be more than a blowjob. SO far it is only a blowjob...A very very good blowjob. She sucks cock like a porn star, but one that actually likes it. On the Felatrix blog she rates blowjobs...she is hitting all the marks...the enthusiasm..check...something eyes, sheck..talk check. lick check...she is apologising for distracting me and telling me what she would do if it werent so distracting...

she just apologized for deepthroating. SHe should apologise it was dammned distracting...

she offered to give me a break so I can type,she removed her hot wet mouth form mycock and moved lower. Turns out having her tongue fuck my ass is ust as distracting...

I was on prozac for years...what they don't tell you is that the sexual side effect isnt that you cant getit up, its that you cant get off...I have gone off it a fewmonths ago and the slut in her is delighted that I cum relatively quickly again, like close to the early days wen she could always :make" me cum in 9 minutes. my goal for quite a while has been to actually pre-ejaculate. I ave not surprised her with cum in YEARS...she always knows before I do when I am gfoing to cum...shehas an advantage thought,,she is the only woman that has ever put her mouth on my cock and she practiced on quite a few repeatedly before she met me. Lovingly and enthusisatically perfecting her techniche for my enjoyment.

I need to send out a couple of dozen thank you cards.....


i am going to take a break now, so that I can concentrate on enjoying the actual blowjob that has ben ongoing for the lAT 20 MINUTES OF typing..........oooooooo...i told her id would tryr to finish vbweefore se finishes me off I think i migh tlosee......unless i cheQAT AND Stop mid senta

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