Spousal Maintenance. - The Geek

I had been a couple of hundred miles from home for all of six days. This, I think, may have been the longest we have been apart for 15 years. We kinked by chat and by phone to good effect, but it isn't quite the same as the touch, taste, smell, sight and sounds all at once.

I spent 12 hours on a piece of heavy equipment on Saturday and had wifey convinced that I had more sense than to make the trip home without at least several hours of rest. I did have the sense to be extra careful and mindful of fatigue. I had already packed my car the night before, so when the Mr. Slate blew the whistle, I slid down the dinosaurs neck and dashed to the car. Sticking my bare feet through the cut-out in the floor of the rock-mobile , I yabba-dabba-doo'd on out of there.

My best E.T. for the trip so far has been 2.75 hours. This time I took my time and went slow partly to conserve gas, partly the car (which is overdue for an 1/2 shaft), and mostly my life. Much as I appreciate an adrenaline fueled dash through the twisties, realistically, my reflexes would not have been optimum. I got out of work about a half hour early, and delayed calling home for the rest giving me a one hour head start. I mumbled a series of tasks that I would be doing in preparation for rest and the trip the next day as I coasted down a grade with the engine off, muting the phone as cars and trucks roared by the other way. I found myself in a pretty hazardous situation when she got a little chatty and I lost my inertia on an upgrade and rolled to a stop. I begged off and attempted to re-start. Bad relay. I tried to back over to the shoulder, but this spot had about six feet between the guardrail and the lane, no good. Flashers on, eyes on the rear-view, I banged under the dash at the offending relay, curses and prayers in equal measures. It started.

From then on, I left it running and dodged and weaved every time she called. I made up errands on top of errands. By the time I got around to asking her "What are you wearing?" I had my hand on the knob and was able to see that yes, she is in fact wearing ugly pajamas.

I had in my mind holding back my animal desires and enjoying some soft gentle lovemaking. Later she mentioned that she had envisioned freshly done hair, sheets, make-up and lingerie for my homecoming and slow languid intimacy. The problem with both plans is we had been getting progressively kinkier with each nights phone call, and its hard to put kink back in the box. The rough and dirty butt-sex and slurpy fellatio of our phone-sex was actually not too far from the actual events.

Be careful what you role play, you might find yourself bent over in the shower, soap in your eyes cycling through the third of fourth iteration of ass to mouth.

Phone Sex - The Husband

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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