$20 Marital Aid. - The Husband.

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Orgasm Permitted. -The Husband

So, the Masochist says to the Sadist, "Hurt me." Calmly replies the Sadist, "No."

A recent innovation to my cunnilingus repertoire (limited though it may be) was orgasm denial. A bisexual friend of mine had explained it thusly: "Pay attention to when she is right on the edge of orgasm and then back off what you are doing. Give a little more- , let her taste the feeling, then back off again, and so on." The idea is that if you get her really pliable the lightest touch sends her over the edge and you guide her along the precipice for one long orgasmic wave. If this effort fails it is because she falls over that knife edge and has a massive orgasm, so either way, win-win.

The first time I tried this, she said during (AND after), "That's MEAN!" I explained the concept, leaving her unimpressed as she is multiply and easily orgasmic, so she couldn't see the point. She already surfs orgasmic waves without any science fair experiments thank you very much. It should be noted that on the previous occasion when the experiment 'failed' it was because of heightened sensitivity that caused a arch up off the bed massive orgasm, so no hot wives were harmed in the testing.

Tonight I was lewdly reaching under her skirt as she was attempting some graphic design work, I asked her what she was in the mood for tonight. "Orgasm denial," she blushingly said. "I thought you said that was mean." pressing the issue making it her desire, as images of her on her knees taped to a spreader bar, head down screaming into a pillow played through my mind. She verbalized it to may satisfaction about the time I got her panties around her ankles.

Well, I got the screaming into a pillow part right.

We snatched a few minutes of stolen time from the small one. I knew I hadn't the time to immobilize her. I simply told her to assume the position in my mind and to pretend she is bound. She did as she was told and I gave her a "Good Girl" as I lifted the skirt to expose her swollen lips and a very spankable ass. More on that later.

Wetting my fingertip, I traced the outlines of her labia like paint by number art. not exactly sure where I was going here, just looking to make her squirm while insisting she hold still. She did well, and was quite aroused as I traced her slit and opened and probed her petals, deliberately avoiding the places I know to be where she most needs it. She didn't seem frustrated, but I was getting a bit so myself, with a firm erection in my flannel pajamas still lazily attired in since the night before, no underwear to holster it, always feels a little silly to have a pole bobbing and tottering between one's legs.

I could resist no longer the urge to spank her up-turned ass, and smacked it a medium swat. She wriggled into it. I started slow, little swats, tattooing a pattern of even coverage of pink. I find she can take much more pain if the capillaries are already broken and spreading their sub-cutaneous endorphins. One swat on her now somewhat bony portion of her ass elicited a smile from her. Not that it did anything specific for her at that time, but because it was yet another affirmation to herself of the weight she has lost/ At some point as I ramped up the intensity on her right cheek, continuing to neglect the left, I remarked that her ass was stinging my hand a bit, and what did she think I should do about that? She suggested I find an implement to do some of the work for me. "Agreed", I said, "but what?", making her choose. "The belt," she said.

I by this time had my hard cock out pressed against her as I leaned over to hiss coarsely in her ear. Your hand is hot she said, I explained that was heat radiating from my cock pressing it into her side, lance-like. I explained that hurting her was getting me extremely aroused. "How sick is that?" I inquired. "Very sick," she said dripping with lust. I told her she could touch herself while I looked for the belt . (I had anticipated that might take a while. It didn't, but that didn't stop the slut from cumming twice before I got with in range again. SMACK, I said with the tip of the belt. "I didn't say," Smack! "to cum!"

Orgasm denial be dammed, I wasn't denying any of mine! I pressed my tip to her sheath and was annoyed she wasn't wetter. She truly has a Pavlovian response to cock-sucking. She hadn't sucked me at all here so her bell didn't ring I guess. ~shrug~ Pressing the issue, and my cock further I found that in fact that she had plenty of moisture stored in her, I just had to get past her dry, quivering lips. Maybe since she generally kneels to perform fellatio, i just drips from her drenched cunt. Here, I had gravity working against me. Lesson learned, I plunged on, now almost too wet. I considered pulling out and having her lick some of that excess pussy juice, but that seemed circular reasoning, as it would likely get her wetter. I just increased the length of each stroke coming farther out so as to air dry my cock a bit.

I watched fascinated as the two smacks on her right side revealed themselves perfect impressions of the slight taper of my belt's tip. I looked at her unblemished left side and decide to paint there a bit. Being right handed I pulled out so I could get a better angle and concentrate on my work. I gave her three stripes in quick succession starting at the bottom and working up. Unintended it looked like a feathered pattern of a birds wing like one of those eagle tattoos bikers like. Thrilled at my marksmanship, I got out the camera to take a picture, meanwhile she was masturbating from underneath, unbidden, I haven lost track of and all control of the very submissive I was currently beating. This kids, epitomizes ADHD. I told her if she was going to persist in that she needed to at least count off her orgasms.

"How many so far?" I asked, ever keeping score as men tend to do. "I don't know..." she trailed off.

Reaching for a hank of hair at the base of her neck I pulled her face around. "What do you mean , "you don't know"? You were there?" I chided. "How many?"

.............................."Five, I think..."

"You think?" I said tightening my grip. "It's f FIVE!" she corrected herself. "

"Well count them off, then." I said realizing about now that I was doing exactly the opposite of what she had asked for...hence the joke at the top. "I will allow you one minute to reach each". I added needing to maintain some sort of semblance of being in charge of this train wreck of a BDSM session.

Back to my work, I didn't let her distract my aim when in quick succession I hear "6, SEVVVIN..." Losing interest in her orgasms entirely (she doesn't actually need me there, ~shrug~) I watched as over thinking it made the pattern I had in mind a little off. Kinda like how even the best basketball player can miss the mark at the free throw line. I, a novice at swinging a belt, resolved simply that I will do better next time I have a fresh unmarked canvass to work with.
It turned out pretty cool I thought to myself quite geekishly, dunno yet how the pictures turned out.

I don't really remember much about how it is that I came to be fucking her missionary style looking at the glazed look of pain and satisfaction in her eyes, but I do remember that I did have a handful of hair twisted through my fist when I pumped out my own singular orgasm.

I'll make it up to her the next time she asks me, "Make me cum?"

Cam Testing 1-2-3.... The Husband.

So, we bought a cheap web cam the other day....Scintillo happened to be on when I was fiddling with it figuring it out. Given that the wife was sans make-up but with cold sore and so not in the mood, I kept it trained on the bedspread. He got treated to a lovely view of the spread and was kind enough to confirm that yup its a cam. Not bad $30 for two in the clearance at Mart du Wal.

Next attempt was as mentioned below I met an extremely articulate girl that must have had phenomenal S.A.T. scores which seemed exactly the right sort of fit for a text intensive watch-us-on cam session. My wife didn't know whether I was serious or not, but went along with it in role play fashion as we pictured what this girl might be like in person. Neither of us have so much as a picture or even a description of her, but I find her compelling. The intensity of the role play combined with having the girl waiting and willing in the background like our own personal porn star fluffer meant I didn't last long enough to explain to her I was very much serious about having found us a young sprite.

By way of background as to why she never knows for sure just when I am serious, I have a way of crying wolf, well and actually making wolfish noises in the background. I delight in surprising her or even better getting her adrenaline up for a surprise she isn't quite ready for. Once for example I rented a room at the very hotel that I lost my virginity in for our one year anniversary. I pretended that we were just going to go there to eat a piece of our frozen wedding cake as tradition dictates. I had previously left our room open a crack and making out in the hall with her, I leaned against our door and pretended it had just come open and it was not actually our room, she protested but only mildly when I drug her over to the bed, saying lets just have a quickie as long as this room is empty.

Another time we had been role playing a threesome. I tied her up then told her hang on a minute, and pretended to sneak to the door, let someone in and spoke in hushed whispers to them, she almost bought that one.

So the next day, my linguistically gifted new friend was online at the same time as a blogger we have met online recently, the blogger's husband was dragging her away from the computer for some cunnilingus which seemed a fine way to spend the afternoon. I persuaded my wife to pawn off the toddler. She was not feeling primped and ready for her close-up so I didn't push until she was in the throes, then I reached for the cam..It wasn't there!! I persuaded her to masturbate while I looked for the missing cam and finally came up with it. Switching it on with a hurried hello to my friend I treated her to a very blurry, barely discernible fuck-fest that at least appeared to be flesh toned. Made a note to dig up a tripod.

Today, I was online with an exhibitionist friend and the blogger from the day before. I mentioned that I'd show both of them my cock except I was babysitting and that seemed inappropriate to say the least. They both expressed enthusiasm. when next my wife wandered into the room I asked if she wouldn't mind if she took the toddler so I could show them my dick..Yeah right, she said. Partly because what an audacious thing to ask ones wife, but mostly she knows "The Mighty Cudgel" is camera shy. WHen I assured her that I was actually serious, and that I thought it might be good masturbatory therapy, she acceded. I'm a little dumbfounded that a) I could ask such a thing, and b) that she would acquiesce.

SO well, I did, like a stallion...I think the camera must be slightly convex, or else I was awfully excited...afterward, when she pointed out the incongruent nature of me being able to rip one off on cam while feeling silly with her in person. We discussed maybe I should do a close circuit feed for her. Yes, it is beyond weird, but we are pushing the psychological frontiers of my tortured psyche. So back in the room and alone, I found that I felt not silly at all. She tells me for 16-17 years that I have a lovely cock and it takes a couple of strangers echoing the sentiment to internalize it. So I'm going at it she is cheating by teasing my balls and perineum and I am OH so close despite having just tossed one off, and the kids knock on the door wanting to drop the needy toddler back in our laps...oh well anothe time. Important thing is I CAN do it another time.

So cam, $30. Doing more good than years of therapy, $Priceless.

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.

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.

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.