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.

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~

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.