..she said brightly. "I'm already late for church." She added, by way of explaination without a trace of irony. I am SO looking forward to spurting onto her Sunday-go-to-meeting hair-do. (Is that wrong?)
Digging into a box I had brought in last night she came up with a pair of medium heeled, pointy toed, black sling backs.
"How are these?" she asked as I pondered the mix of shoes in the box, hers, his and 'hirs'..
"Great!" I pronounced, "but, a little slutty for _________" (her hometown, population probably less than 3,000)
"Thats the idea," she smiled, "someone's got to bring this town into the 21st century, and they aren't quite stripper shoes yet."
I am pretty tired. (I am always pretty tired.)
I bummed a ride back to home #1 last Thursday morning after night shift. I slept a while then surveyed my transportation situation. So far I had two cars at home #2 and the object is to get all 8-9 1/2 cars there eventually. I had selected the mid 60's wagon and matching bug for this run.
I had packed my work bag with the title in case I left straight from work. Instead I went home for a quick shower and a couple of interrupted 1/2 hour naps. *And no, not that kind of interruption."
As I groggily stumbled to the door when my ride showed up, she suggested I take a cooler rather than the soft side multi-pocket work bag cum lunch bucket. Partway to my destination I remember the title.
NO worries I think $8 for an lost title fee is cheaper than gas to go back. I get to house #1 and sleep a while after making vague inquiries into the schedules of the now 4 late teen slackers living in my house. (The plan is to charge them some rent if I ever actually get the house emptied out.)
The one whose work / sleep schedule seems compatible with my plans seemed a good prospect for a ride to the motor vehicle division. Turns out he slept in, then left abruptly. Not wanting to impose on my renters (read squatters), I called a buddy I havent seen in nearly a year to come pick me up.
First trip, they look up my name and of the 6 cars they have a record of, Big Buford as I like to call him isnt on the list. I call my wife for the VIN to see if it was missfiled. She has left our little turn of the century farmhouse for the big city. I am short with her, thinking she was expending gas for yet another trip just 2 days after her last one. I was rather rude and abrupt and had to apologise, (poorly) later.
Second trip with a rubbing of the VIN plate in hand, I hear over the loudspeakers that titles cannot be printed because the "computers are down." No eta for recovery. Nice.
They were able to look up Vin's though and all that told us was that the car has been purged from the system. They say I need an abandoned title. (I explain I HAVE a hard copy of the title just not with me.)
I send my wife 30 minutes north to a medium sized town with an MVD office. She gets there just under the wire before closing time. Computers still down. Redundancy anyone????"
In frustration I resolve to flaut the law. (the last time I got caught doing that it spiraled into a $3,000 incident and loss of license for what turned out to be 4 years plus. I don't care.
I go home frustrated and still exhausted from lack of sleep and sleep fitfully till the next day. I then go about getting mobile. None of the cars around the place are ready to go, so I load up three batteries and one flat tire (my compressor is down, and my tools to fix it are at house #2 along wit my battery charger) onto a garden cart and walk 3/4 of a mile to get the battery charged and the tire aired up. I then walk home, take another nap. I get up go back and find I have to buy a new battery anyway.
I get the spanking new battery installed (crossing the polarity in the process, big oops!) NOTHING. in frustration I call my wife to come get me (4 hour drive each way.) Son points out it ran the other day when he put a different battery in it,. So I borrow the battery that did take a charge and sure enough she runs! I go back to the store where they puzzle over a brand new battery putting out .3 volts untill they notice neither I nor they in testing it have removed the protective plastic terminal cover. OOPS! ~chagrined~ I call back. "Never mind get the kids back out of the van...."
SO I pack the wagon and the bug separately, go to the hardware store get bolts to secure the tow bar, to the airport (past stern "Authorized Personnel Only" - without a valid license plate). I must have looked like an authorized individual because no one says boo to me as I glide up in my very much land-bound jumbo-liner and fill up on 100 octane low lead avgas. She purred in appreciation. Incidentally, on the way back home I pulled a light next to a brand new dodge, so called Hemi charger. (Not the legendary 426 Hemi of course.) They held on with me for 1st gear, only because I have highway gears in the differential. I smoked them after that in a cloud of blue smoke, unburned avgas spitting flames out the factory dual exhaust. -Note to self- Pick up some 4.11 gears and a roots blower.
SO anyway, packed and ready to go, I go to mate the two vehicles only to discover that Buford has no ball in his receiver hitch. Off to Mart du Wahl and lucky thing its a standard receiver and all is well again.
I roar off into the night at just before midnight on a heavy enforcement DUI weekend. Including State, Counties various cities and towns, and tribal entities I calculate that I will pass through the jurisdictions of over 20 law enforcement divisions. In the past year I have been pulled over for one thing or another at least 8 times. The score there is two tickets, numerous warnings and repair orders and one chase that I won near the border.
I breathe in and rub into my eyes fiberglass from the missing headliner. This doesn't help visibility. It starts to rain. My power windows are currently down and disconnected. My wipers...hmm...yep work, nope blades are bad...oops they won't turn off now that I hit a dry patch....stop cut the wire.
I run out of gas on the reservation. I siphon a gallon out of the bug..I run out again. I siphon the last 1/3 of a gallon out of the bug, make it to a gas station.
I stagger into home #2 at a little after 4:00am and shower. I attempt to fumble into bed without waking the Fellatio Artist, only to find a child in the bed. I evict said child and fall asleep clutching a couch pillow as I left my pillow at house #1...
All in all a lot of work for some boxes better left in a house fire, except the several dozen pairs of kinky shoes.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
With barely a whimper... The Geek
..the fifty-thousandth visitor came and left. If he/she/they were typical, they stayed for 2.33 minutes scanning the content of, on average 2.1 pages. It didn't go un-noticed. I look at stats from time to time and especially where visitors come from.
Interestingly many come from my wife's semi-defunct sexy blog. I mentioned this to her the other day and she said she had thought of going black there as she doesn't use it now that we are in the same town again at last, and is a bit uncomfortable with being spank-bank material to the thousands of unseen visitors there.
Many come from search engines, with "cum lips" and Felatio being hot vibrating buzzwords. A picture of my bald head juxtaposed on her bald cunt seems to generate a lot of interest from Goggle images.
As I flit back and forth from blurfing interesting stuff, and replacing the cover page I use to mask what I'm reading from the kids walking through.
Not a lot of privacy in a 1,000 square foot turn-of-the century ramshackle farmhouse. Especially for 6 people used to a 5 bedroom 2,300 foot house with a wireless router two laptops, a couple of desktops, cable tv on one of several tv's and all other manner of distraction.
Not a lot of time when work takes me 15 hours and 15 minutes a day from my door to back home daily for 12-13 out of every 14 days.
Musing, that I have time for. Lots of time.
Alone in my cab, squawk of two-way radio droning on interminably with a couple hundred people on 2 main channels, no place to get a word in, when I do, its too polysyllabic for local tastes. $15 Panasonic cassette decks are treasured on the rare occasion that an antennae is mounted properly to receive one or more of 4 radio stations within range. Much more desirable than the Sirius radios that work not at all over 1/3 of the time, and poorly when they do work in radio mode 1/3 of the time. An actual working, satellite radio (when your equipment is facing in the general direction of the satellite) seems but a cruel joke as those pieces of equipment are inevitable snatched from you , usually mid shift often to trade out an operator in a rolling sweat lodge, where penny-wise and basic logistics understanding management would rather spend an hour a day trading operators than stop the equipment for 20 minutes to add some R-134.
I think of clever turns of phrase, topical ideas and have epiphanies, unnoticed my anyone and unremembered by me as I fall exhausted into bed again.
Excuses, really.
Fear, then.
Afraid I/we have said it all. (Then why the constant voices in my head?)
Afraid that she isn't that into the blog, or has regrets or anxiety about discovery after returning to the small town of her roots. No anonymity here.
Afraid that the next great sex-capade wont' be "blog-worthy". (Nonsense, of course. Sex with this woman is amazing, always. Yes its still new and fresh after 16+ years. Besides, its all fodder for those of you reading with hand encircling turgid shaft, or wrist pressed near warm upper thighs.)
You know the saying, dance like no one is watching? Apt. I never blogged or, really wrote anything of y thoughts because I felt the need to be complete. Avoid fragments. Be cohesive.
I learned to write for the sheer joy of leaving the thoughts of an unquiet mind lay, so others could be afforded breathing space. The practice pad for that was what I like to refer to as my tranny blog. In short I suddenly had a long repressed urge to do the whole J. Edgar Hoover thing without a wife rather than a trusted close male companion/ cum secretary a year or so ago and was (am) a bit confused and conflicted about the whole thing. 50,000 words later I have penned no answers of merit but feel at peace with my femme side, if a bit disjointed. My two sides co-exist with barely a wave to each-other in a fugue state, so the two blogs never meet. Often one is updated and the other not. Barbara is sorely neglected in my rough-and tumble, nail-tearing job. Perfectionism and the horror of looking like a middle aged tranny (if the sling-back fits, and looks cute....)keep me from visiting that side lately.
In my surfing I went from Janie Bloom's blog to FetLife and found, I thought, a place for Barbara to 'come out' not as a dude in a dress, but sexually speaking as she seems oddly (to me) asexual really. I opened a profile for her, but did little else. I enjoy surfing others profiles from my lousy phone interface from work, but have done nothing to speak of for hers. The random comments I occasionally post there have no context.
I added a couple of pics there (tame) lifted from my blog, and had in mind a framework to explain who I am, but got stuck. Also the kids walking through did little to ease my discomfort.
I thought about temporarily linking either of the other two blogs to give a more rounded picture, but kind of prefer the walls remain.
I think a few of the 12 or so regular readers here are aware of the others, but perhaps some are not. Thoughtful readers are welcome to the url's though I have to agree with my wife that "Jane's" Blog is much more spankable than "Barbara's".
Buried in a previous post, unnoticed by all but two or three visitors, ever, is contact information for us. I give it here for any that want the url and have actually read far enough here to notice. To wit: Peep in our window (remove spaces - runitalltogether) then the at sign (@) yahoo then dot com.
Ah, that felt better to get some of those extraneous, probably unnecessarily and ironically redundant, asides and commas out of my system.
Interestingly many come from my wife's semi-defunct sexy blog. I mentioned this to her the other day and she said she had thought of going black there as she doesn't use it now that we are in the same town again at last, and is a bit uncomfortable with being spank-bank material to the thousands of unseen visitors there.
Many come from search engines, with "cum lips" and Felatio being hot vibrating buzzwords. A picture of my bald head juxtaposed on her bald cunt seems to generate a lot of interest from Goggle images.
As I flit back and forth from blurfing interesting stuff, and replacing the cover page I use to mask what I'm reading from the kids walking through.
Not a lot of privacy in a 1,000 square foot turn-of-the century ramshackle farmhouse. Especially for 6 people used to a 5 bedroom 2,300 foot house with a wireless router two laptops, a couple of desktops, cable tv on one of several tv's and all other manner of distraction.
Not a lot of time when work takes me 15 hours and 15 minutes a day from my door to back home daily for 12-13 out of every 14 days.
Musing, that I have time for. Lots of time.
Alone in my cab, squawk of two-way radio droning on interminably with a couple hundred people on 2 main channels, no place to get a word in, when I do, its too polysyllabic for local tastes. $15 Panasonic cassette decks are treasured on the rare occasion that an antennae is mounted properly to receive one or more of 4 radio stations within range. Much more desirable than the Sirius radios that work not at all over 1/3 of the time, and poorly when they do work in radio mode 1/3 of the time. An actual working, satellite radio (when your equipment is facing in the general direction of the satellite) seems but a cruel joke as those pieces of equipment are inevitable snatched from you , usually mid shift often to trade out an operator in a rolling sweat lodge, where penny-wise and basic logistics understanding management would rather spend an hour a day trading operators than stop the equipment for 20 minutes to add some R-134.
I think of clever turns of phrase, topical ideas and have epiphanies, unnoticed my anyone and unremembered by me as I fall exhausted into bed again.
Excuses, really.
Fear, then.
Afraid I/we have said it all. (Then why the constant voices in my head?)
Afraid that she isn't that into the blog, or has regrets or anxiety about discovery after returning to the small town of her roots. No anonymity here.
Afraid that the next great sex-capade wont' be "blog-worthy". (Nonsense, of course. Sex with this woman is amazing, always. Yes its still new and fresh after 16+ years. Besides, its all fodder for those of you reading with hand encircling turgid shaft, or wrist pressed near warm upper thighs.)
You know the saying, dance like no one is watching? Apt. I never blogged or, really wrote anything of y thoughts because I felt the need to be complete. Avoid fragments. Be cohesive.
I learned to write for the sheer joy of leaving the thoughts of an unquiet mind lay, so others could be afforded breathing space. The practice pad for that was what I like to refer to as my tranny blog. In short I suddenly had a long repressed urge to do the whole J. Edgar Hoover thing without a wife rather than a trusted close male companion/ cum secretary a year or so ago and was (am) a bit confused and conflicted about the whole thing. 50,000 words later I have penned no answers of merit but feel at peace with my femme side, if a bit disjointed. My two sides co-exist with barely a wave to each-other in a fugue state, so the two blogs never meet. Often one is updated and the other not. Barbara is sorely neglected in my rough-and tumble, nail-tearing job. Perfectionism and the horror of looking like a middle aged tranny (if the sling-back fits, and looks cute....)keep me from visiting that side lately.
In my surfing I went from Janie Bloom's blog to FetLife and found, I thought, a place for Barbara to 'come out' not as a dude in a dress, but sexually speaking as she seems oddly (to me) asexual really. I opened a profile for her, but did little else. I enjoy surfing others profiles from my lousy phone interface from work, but have done nothing to speak of for hers. The random comments I occasionally post there have no context.
I added a couple of pics there (tame) lifted from my blog, and had in mind a framework to explain who I am, but got stuck. Also the kids walking through did little to ease my discomfort.
I thought about temporarily linking either of the other two blogs to give a more rounded picture, but kind of prefer the walls remain.
I think a few of the 12 or so regular readers here are aware of the others, but perhaps some are not. Thoughtful readers are welcome to the url's though I have to agree with my wife that "Jane's" Blog is much more spankable than "Barbara's".
Buried in a previous post, unnoticed by all but two or three visitors, ever, is contact information for us. I give it here for any that want the url and have actually read far enough here to notice. To wit: Peep in our window (remove spaces - runitalltogether) then the at sign (@) yahoo then dot com.
Ah, that felt better to get some of those extraneous, probably unnecessarily and ironically redundant, asides and commas out of my system.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Mutual Humping - The Husband
I was in a bit of a grumpy mood, and sleepy enough to actually contemplate forgoing sex all-together. ~shocked~
The wife scratched my back a little assuaging my ridiculous and out-of-place irritability. I began to return the favor but found my hands wandering. Like they do.
I was still on my tummy, which for me is my proffered sexual position for solo work. As i stroked and fingered and delighted in her writhing, I found I was grinding against the matress and then one hand under me. Like I do.
So I moved her hand under me as well, to make up for the hand I was missing probing her.
I had an idea.
"Roll over..", I breathed in her ear.
"Huh?" she responded party sleepily, part from that place she goes on the edge of an other orgasm.
She awkwardly turned and tried to present, unsure of my instruction but complying none-the-less.
Wren I had her prone, I reached under, imagining that this must be what it is like for a woman to lay on her hand and hump.
It was hot. she bucked and writhed. She was naked. I, still partially clothed. I aligned my cock with her ass and let it grind there as she humped and wriggled and moaned.
I decided she would be a lot more comfortable with my cock in her ass. As I posited this, she was enthusiastic ly affirmative amidst the sounds she was stifling. I made her articulate it. because its hot to hear her say it.
"Fuck me up the ass."
I moved and positioned and probed and pressed. The angle awkward. Then in it slipped with surprising ease.
"Soong Wah!" she announced. Which roughly translated we use to mean "Wrong hole." Usually meaning I have jammed up against her dark passage, but in this case in context (which I didn't realize for a moment) it meant I had not achieved my goal of plowing a furrow into her ass.
"You are becoming quite and anal slut too, lately aren't you?" I hissed
"Well yes", she said, "but you are in my cunt."
Smiling, I thought that why that seemed familiar..I pulled out and she presented at a better angle and with surprising ease, I eased it in.
The angle was still awkward so she pulled off and rolled over and put her knees up...much better.
"Choke me", she said.
I wrapped both hands gently, but firmly, around her neck and not so much choked as used her neck for leverage as I fucked her. Hard, fast and deep.
The wife scratched my back a little assuaging my ridiculous and out-of-place irritability. I began to return the favor but found my hands wandering. Like they do.
I was still on my tummy, which for me is my proffered sexual position for solo work. As i stroked and fingered and delighted in her writhing, I found I was grinding against the matress and then one hand under me. Like I do.
So I moved her hand under me as well, to make up for the hand I was missing probing her.
I had an idea.
"Roll over..", I breathed in her ear.
"Huh?" she responded party sleepily, part from that place she goes on the edge of an other orgasm.
She awkwardly turned and tried to present, unsure of my instruction but complying none-the-less.
Wren I had her prone, I reached under, imagining that this must be what it is like for a woman to lay on her hand and hump.
It was hot. she bucked and writhed. She was naked. I, still partially clothed. I aligned my cock with her ass and let it grind there as she humped and wriggled and moaned.
I decided she would be a lot more comfortable with my cock in her ass. As I posited this, she was enthusiastic ly affirmative amidst the sounds she was stifling. I made her articulate it. because its hot to hear her say it.
"Fuck me up the ass."
I moved and positioned and probed and pressed. The angle awkward. Then in it slipped with surprising ease.
"Soong Wah!" she announced. Which roughly translated we use to mean "Wrong hole." Usually meaning I have jammed up against her dark passage, but in this case in context (which I didn't realize for a moment) it meant I had not achieved my goal of plowing a furrow into her ass.
"You are becoming quite and anal slut too, lately aren't you?" I hissed
"Well yes", she said, "but you are in my cunt."
Smiling, I thought that why that seemed familiar..I pulled out and she presented at a better angle and with surprising ease, I eased it in.
The angle was still awkward so she pulled off and rolled over and put her knees up...much better.
"Choke me", she said.
I wrapped both hands gently, but firmly, around her neck and not so much choked as used her neck for leverage as I fucked her. Hard, fast and deep.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
It's nice to be vocal about ones desires. The Geek
In the distant past, my lovely wife would mention as a kind of an aside that she had been in the mood the night before or that she had waited up for me. This information inevitably reached me, (obviously), too late, as I've not quite perfected time travel.
Lately she has been much more willing to be assertive. Like when I am actually already asleep.
Our little slice of country-fied paradise is a pretty long commute for me. Much closer than the 200 mile commute I had, mind you. Still, I get up at 4:30 am and get home at 8:30 pm. Also in the all work and no play department I worked 310 last month so sleep is at a premium.
Never-the-less, despite having rogered her senseless the other night and rolled over and gone to sleep, she woke me two hours later having taken things into her own hands (well her mouth technically) getting started through the pleasant haze of what seemed to begin for me as an erotic dream.
Lately she has been much more willing to be assertive. Like when I am actually already asleep.
Our little slice of country-fied paradise is a pretty long commute for me. Much closer than the 200 mile commute I had, mind you. Still, I get up at 4:30 am and get home at 8:30 pm. Also in the all work and no play department I worked 310 last month so sleep is at a premium.
Never-the-less, despite having rogered her senseless the other night and rolled over and gone to sleep, she woke me two hours later having taken things into her own hands (well her mouth technically) getting started through the pleasant haze of what seemed to begin for me as an erotic dream.
Finally, A keyboard and a browser that doesn't suck...
I've been surfing using my state of the art (from three years ago) phone. It features what I found out to be an obsolete platform (Openwave). It deserves to be obsolete. I found out it was obsolete after about thirty minutes of searching for updates on the web which would have taken all of 15 seconds on any other device.
I don't have the time or the space here to explain how difficult even the most basic functions are.
To make things worse, 1/2 the blogs I read weren't accessible at all saying "unsupported content type." None of the blogs I read could I go to the leave a content page, and forget about getting to the new post page here...ARGGGGH.
I HATE AT&T (I'll spare you the even longer rant here as to why) but I am seriously tempted to go back to them after 12 years of resolve never to give them another dime just to get an i-Phone.
I don't have the time or the space here to explain how difficult even the most basic functions are.
To make things worse, 1/2 the blogs I read weren't accessible at all saying "unsupported content type." None of the blogs I read could I go to the leave a content page, and forget about getting to the new post page here...ARGGGGH.
I HATE AT&T (I'll spare you the even longer rant here as to why) but I am seriously tempted to go back to them after 12 years of resolve never to give them another dime just to get an i-Phone.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Smothered Ecstasy and Thin Walls.
When I first moved into my little dorm/prison/BOQ-style room several months ago I was very impressed with the construction. The walls seemed totally impervious to any sound. I slept soundly with nary a whisper to disturb my rest. I wondered if they had some sort of high tech sound baffle as the walls didn't seem unusually thick.
Later I discovered the secret. My neighbors all happened to work different weeks and different shifts than I.
Not so now. My jovial, hard drinking neighbor works on the same crew as I, and for the most part is home. I work a lot of overtime (150 hours of overtime this month), and he hides out from a couple of ex-wives and their lawyers, so neither of us leave the camp much.
Yesterday, the lovely Fellatio Artist left the kids with her sister 30 miles away and came up to enjoy the steak dinner I get every Wednesday night. I popped into my room to grab a toothbrush and ran into Eric. When I mentioned my wife was waiting out in the car he said to bring her by so he could say 'hey'.
So I did. Pleasantries exchanged, she then asked if I was going to show her my room. I did and jokingly asked "So, you wanna?". "Of course", she answered - already unbuttoning her blouse. (Any wonder I love this woman?)
So, on my freshly made bed from my weekly maid service, she lay under the harsh fluorescent overhead looking quite ravish-able. So I did. With great enthusiasm. We could clearly hear my neighbor through the wall talking to a recent move-in. As she would begin to whimper with pleasure I would clamp a hand over her mouth which only increased the volume of her cries.
I intend to swagger a bit with pride when I next see my compadres in the mess hall.
Later I discovered the secret. My neighbors all happened to work different weeks and different shifts than I.
Not so now. My jovial, hard drinking neighbor works on the same crew as I, and for the most part is home. I work a lot of overtime (150 hours of overtime this month), and he hides out from a couple of ex-wives and their lawyers, so neither of us leave the camp much.
Yesterday, the lovely Fellatio Artist left the kids with her sister 30 miles away and came up to enjoy the steak dinner I get every Wednesday night. I popped into my room to grab a toothbrush and ran into Eric. When I mentioned my wife was waiting out in the car he said to bring her by so he could say 'hey'.
So I did. Pleasantries exchanged, she then asked if I was going to show her my room. I did and jokingly asked "So, you wanna?". "Of course", she answered - already unbuttoning her blouse. (Any wonder I love this woman?)
So, on my freshly made bed from my weekly maid service, she lay under the harsh fluorescent overhead looking quite ravish-able. So I did. With great enthusiasm. We could clearly hear my neighbor through the wall talking to a recent move-in. As she would begin to whimper with pleasure I would clamp a hand over her mouth which only increased the volume of her cries.
I intend to swagger a bit with pride when I next see my compadres in the mess hall.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Sharing my SLutty Wife. - The Husband
No, I am not accepting applications for the next penis to violate my wife's eager orifices. No, not even if your man-root is of impressive dimensions, and please do not attach pics to the application you are not to send.
The "sharing" of my wifes really pretty eager body is merely retrospective. For some reason it has bothered me not at all that she came prepared with a skill set finely honed on other men's cocks. I do tell her often that the only problem with vaginal intercourse is that her eager mouth goes wasted.
What got me thinking on this topic was a recent post on Hamlet and Loralie's excellent Blog, Pornotopia. In that post he discusses the frequently repeated refrain that he is so lucky to have such an eager slut for a girlfriend. He discussed the fact that most guys would actually be a bit discomfited if their partners were actually to become the nymphs that they imagine in their kinkiest moments.
I don't actually identify with the interest that cuckolds have in having their wives or girlfriends out fucking other people, but I do kind of understand a little of their motivation. I just like the voyeuristic component to it.
From the time that we met, it was not too long before sexual topics were somewhat shyly, then progressively less so, brought up. I was aware that she of course was not a virgin, as I was pretty sure she hadn't conceived immaculately. She was not surprised, particularly, that I was a virgin. Most people that knew me wouldn't have been.
As she would (usually during some kinky heavy petting) answer various "have you ever?" type questions, it was like little neatly wrapped parcels to open. Kind of plain brown wrapper, nicely folded. Inside as I unwrapped I would find full-color glossy images. Hot.
As I awaited the next installment of my "slut-of-the-week" club serial story, I embellished in my mind. A lot.
I had her blowing the football team in the back of the bus on long road trips. The reality was a bit more tame. She did blow the captain of the team, but it was a bit more private, and she was after all dating him.
Anyway, years ago, she had mentioned in reference to someone else that cultural taboo of a white woman having had any kind of experience with a black man being something that would be a hard thing for a lot of guys to accept in her experience. I didn't press, but sensed there was a story there somewhere.
It didn't actually come out until fairly recently, and I don't recall the context, but the story was much less rich in detail than some others owing in part to the lack of memory on her part of what actually occurred. The details aren't particularly salacious. She was engaged, some reason or another they were fighting most likely over his infidelities, and her manager was in parallel out of sorts with his partner. A few after work drinks and she remembers little other than the horror primarily of finding herself cheating on her fiance more so than the any particular feeling of having crossed a cultural boundary.
So, goes to show you once they have tried black, it is possible to go back. It helps that I have an really enormous........ego.
The "sharing" of my wifes really pretty eager body is merely retrospective. For some reason it has bothered me not at all that she came prepared with a skill set finely honed on other men's cocks. I do tell her often that the only problem with vaginal intercourse is that her eager mouth goes wasted.
What got me thinking on this topic was a recent post on Hamlet and Loralie's excellent Blog, Pornotopia. In that post he discusses the frequently repeated refrain that he is so lucky to have such an eager slut for a girlfriend. He discussed the fact that most guys would actually be a bit discomfited if their partners were actually to become the nymphs that they imagine in their kinkiest moments.
I don't actually identify with the interest that cuckolds have in having their wives or girlfriends out fucking other people, but I do kind of understand a little of their motivation. I just like the voyeuristic component to it.
From the time that we met, it was not too long before sexual topics were somewhat shyly, then progressively less so, brought up. I was aware that she of course was not a virgin, as I was pretty sure she hadn't conceived immaculately. She was not surprised, particularly, that I was a virgin. Most people that knew me wouldn't have been.
As she would (usually during some kinky heavy petting) answer various "have you ever?" type questions, it was like little neatly wrapped parcels to open. Kind of plain brown wrapper, nicely folded. Inside as I unwrapped I would find full-color glossy images. Hot.
As I awaited the next installment of my "slut-of-the-week" club serial story, I embellished in my mind. A lot.
I had her blowing the football team in the back of the bus on long road trips. The reality was a bit more tame. She did blow the captain of the team, but it was a bit more private, and she was after all dating him.
Anyway, years ago, she had mentioned in reference to someone else that cultural taboo of a white woman having had any kind of experience with a black man being something that would be a hard thing for a lot of guys to accept in her experience. I didn't press, but sensed there was a story there somewhere.
It didn't actually come out until fairly recently, and I don't recall the context, but the story was much less rich in detail than some others owing in part to the lack of memory on her part of what actually occurred. The details aren't particularly salacious. She was engaged, some reason or another they were fighting most likely over his infidelities, and her manager was in parallel out of sorts with his partner. A few after work drinks and she remembers little other than the horror primarily of finding herself cheating on her fiance more so than the any particular feeling of having crossed a cultural boundary.
So, goes to show you once they have tried black, it is possible to go back. It helps that I have an really enormous........ego.
Distance Training "Orgasm Control" - The Husband.
Site meter is a fun tool. I often like to look at the (limited) details it gives about our visitors. Now, before all of you surfing from work log off in a panic, I should tell you how limited it is. It merely tells what link refered you (if any), what isp you are using, and in general terms your geographic location.
Its fun to see what part of the world has checked in. In fact, it is comforting to know for example that currently of the five people reading, one is from Pretoria, South Africa. Why comforting? Because I am pretty sure we aren't likely to have a blushing encounter at the corner market for example. Disturbingly, the person who has been on the longest at the moment (a little over 10 minutes, currently reviewing video clips) is actually from the major metropolis in which we reside. There are two Canadians online and one person from Pennsylvania.
AAG's Blog recently had a couple of posts referring to the anguish of having some nosey (presumedly elderly) parents intruding into her private virtual space and reading snippets of her blog. Such events are often the cause of really good blogs going dark and she vows not to let that happen to hers.
Oh, the title of the post, and tha actual point of this entry. I was just talking (dirty) to my wife when she was interupted by some children so our discussion is temporarilly on hold. What we were talking about was making a phone sex date for tonight, with the caveat that neither is to cum. The plan is that I am going to get off work at about 7:30 am (having not gotten off), drive three of the four hours home and meet her in a small town an hour from home where we shall consummate the experiance in a parking lot. I only have this small window because I am working my 4th day of overtime on nightshift and have less than 24 hours before I start my regular 7 x 12.5 hour regular dayshift.
She was recently intrigued for some reason by a commenter on her personal blog who suggested she use our distance as an opportunity to practice orgasm denial, apparently an interest of his. This is going to be very hard for her as any more than a little light grazing with fingertips, and she is over the edge. Sensitive and responsive doesn't begin to describe her vagina. I will have to work not to abrade my penis in this endevour as I can hold out pretty well. Partly age, partly early training. I had issues. (have issues) I felt immense hang-over-like post orgasmic let-down after I would orgasm and actually enjoyed that moment just before as much as actually cumming, which usually involved a lot of guilty, sticky, embarrassed, clean-up.
So the title of this post was lifted directly from the google search terms used by the individual in South Africa to find us. Seemed apt.
Its fun to see what part of the world has checked in. In fact, it is comforting to know for example that currently of the five people reading, one is from Pretoria, South Africa. Why comforting? Because I am pretty sure we aren't likely to have a blushing encounter at the corner market for example. Disturbingly, the person who has been on the longest at the moment (a little over 10 minutes, currently reviewing video clips) is actually from the major metropolis in which we reside. There are two Canadians online and one person from Pennsylvania.
AAG's Blog recently had a couple of posts referring to the anguish of having some nosey (presumedly elderly) parents intruding into her private virtual space and reading snippets of her blog. Such events are often the cause of really good blogs going dark and she vows not to let that happen to hers.
Oh, the title of the post, and tha actual point of this entry. I was just talking (dirty) to my wife when she was interupted by some children so our discussion is temporarilly on hold. What we were talking about was making a phone sex date for tonight, with the caveat that neither is to cum. The plan is that I am going to get off work at about 7:30 am (having not gotten off), drive three of the four hours home and meet her in a small town an hour from home where we shall consummate the experiance in a parking lot. I only have this small window because I am working my 4th day of overtime on nightshift and have less than 24 hours before I start my regular 7 x 12.5 hour regular dayshift.
She was recently intrigued for some reason by a commenter on her personal blog who suggested she use our distance as an opportunity to practice orgasm denial, apparently an interest of his. This is going to be very hard for her as any more than a little light grazing with fingertips, and she is over the edge. Sensitive and responsive doesn't begin to describe her vagina. I will have to work not to abrade my penis in this endevour as I can hold out pretty well. Partly age, partly early training. I had issues. (have issues) I felt immense hang-over-like post orgasmic let-down after I would orgasm and actually enjoyed that moment just before as much as actually cumming, which usually involved a lot of guilty, sticky, embarrassed, clean-up.
So the title of this post was lifted directly from the google search terms used by the individual in South Africa to find us. Seemed apt.
Friday, April 25, 2008
All Work and NO play. - The Bedraggled Husband
I came straight home after my work week ended last time for an event involving one of the kids, so I wasn't able to work any overtime in that 1/2 of my week off. Instead, I left three days early so I could work the maximum two days permitted while still taking the required one day off to avoid a nine day stretch. This mean I got up here on a Monday, worked through the next Monday and on to the end of my week this past Wednesday, and then some more overtime. I tried to argue that since I got off work at 7pm Wednesday, that if I didn't work again till Thursday at 7PM that I had technically "taken a day off" as required. This argument was successful once but they didn't buy it this time and sent me to my room without any more than one day of overtime. I had already promised a friend a ride home today, so I sit here at the dormitories a little bored waiting for him to get out of a training class.
I have idle time and you know what they say about idle hands...
You would think that since this place clears out in the middle of the day and I have 12 computers and some privacy that I could get into all sorts of deviant behavior. Sadly, I find that my libido is lagging. You would have to know me and my history to know how truly astounding that is. Here I am perhaps 8 hours from getting laid, and I can't bring myself to rouse any real interest in anything sexual. These computers are semi-restricted but not monitored, so there are plenty of places I can go including any number of links off this blog that arent blocked, and still...meh.
I'm just tired. On what was to be our last day of shift the powers that be actually called a meeting for 45 minutes before the start of our 12.5 hour shift AND another hour long one for after!!!! Among other things, they discussed the dangers of fatigue brought on by sleep deprivation. I kid you not.
I have a feeling that a little groping, remembered fragrances, tastes and touches, and I'll be right as rain again...
meanwhile I shall blurf through our blogroll and see if I can't find a little tittilation to arouse my flagging libido.
I have idle time and you know what they say about idle hands...
You would think that since this place clears out in the middle of the day and I have 12 computers and some privacy that I could get into all sorts of deviant behavior. Sadly, I find that my libido is lagging. You would have to know me and my history to know how truly astounding that is. Here I am perhaps 8 hours from getting laid, and I can't bring myself to rouse any real interest in anything sexual. These computers are semi-restricted but not monitored, so there are plenty of places I can go including any number of links off this blog that arent blocked, and still...meh.
I'm just tired. On what was to be our last day of shift the powers that be actually called a meeting for 45 minutes before the start of our 12.5 hour shift AND another hour long one for after!!!! Among other things, they discussed the dangers of fatigue brought on by sleep deprivation. I kid you not.
I have a feeling that a little groping, remembered fragrances, tastes and touches, and I'll be right as rain again...
meanwhile I shall blurf through our blogroll and see if I can't find a little tittilation to arouse my flagging libido.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Discussing Edges and Boundaries.
Place holder for an idea I had for a post. Too tired after a long day of work to write it out. The gist of it is the discussion we had as the wife read me some Craigslist personals. We used to enjoy the local free papers personals. Similar thing, but in a different light. Some ads were funny, some sexy, some stupid, some intriguing. Discussion about what we might do if circumstances were right, where would we stop? Slippery slope and all that. We liked the idea of same-room keep to ourselves but watch and be watched...
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Best Laid Plans. - The Husband
I am back at work now but wanted to catch up on Blogging a bit.
Prior to my last visit home we had both been in sync in ultra-horny mode. I tried to stay flexible in my mind and not let the fairly specific plans we made become some kind of necessary kinky road map to my time off. What we had talked about sounded extremely hot. In the past we had had similar conversations in the style of 'making plans' but reality and real life intrudes. I just wanted to be more in the moment when I got home.
The time before with no real plans at all I though was more fulfilling, so I took our discussions as just fantasy talk and enjoyed them for that by themselves.
Still, the idea sounded really hot. The wife was in a pretty subbie place. Her idea was that I would place a bolster under her hips, and tie her down with her ass in the air. For the day. On cam.
I would watch the toddler, and go about my normal activities for my time off, whether it be catching up my laundry, doing some cooking, (I like to cook a lot, and at the camp, my meals are all made for me, good, but not quite up to the creative standards I enjoy.) maybe catch up on some online sites I can't reach through the camps, cyber cafe's filters, that sort of thing.
When the mood struck, I was going to enter the room and pick an orifice, or redden her backside, or whatever. We had been having some discussion of insertion fun , maybe taking suggestions from whatever audience had gathered...It sounded pretty hot.
My favorite suggestion she had was that I engage somebody in a little cyber dalliance while she assumed the roll of inflatable fuck-doll.
I tend to work long hours and rarely run into anyone online at the times I try, but just before I left I ran into somebody that I hadn't talked to in a while and she seemed enthused with the idea.
So I worked my last shift..(leaving for work at 6:00pm, and getting back to camp at about 8:30am) then drove about 5 hours because I had given a ride back to our metropolis to a coworker...
I am not real sure how it is that I thought I could be up 20 hours straight drive that far and organize a multi-media, multi-player sexual spectacle. On the way home this reality occurred to me. So I slept.
I sleep a lot when I get home, especially when I have a week of night shifts. I groggily woke up and somehow thought it was about 3:00 in the afternoon when it was actually about 6:30pm. I knew the wife had to check in for her job about 3:00 and when I saw her getting ready I didn't realize that we both needed to get ready for an evening function for one of the kids. I sleepily told her not to put any pants on yet, and urged her over to the bed. I tried hard to make up for lost time with a round the world tour. She was compliant, and sexy and fun and as per usual multi-orgasmic. I didn't actually put a lot of effort into her pleasure, knowing she'd have a good time regardless and just selfishly rutted like a roughneck just off the rigs. I recall grabbing her by the hair (gently) and guiding her face into a more fuckable position...at some point I decided some actual pussy was called for so I fucked her that way a while, contorting her awkwardly (for her) with legs raised. I like that position because in a semi-sit-up angle like that she has a good view of her own vagina as my cock, slippery with her juices glides in and out. I often urge her to masturbate while I fuck her. Funny that as open as she is she usually seems to wait for the suggestion before she does.
With her ankles above her earlobes that tends to raise her ass off the bed, presenting the third port on my world tour. I decided a little Greek was in order and I don't mean gyro's and falafel.
As I entered her there was some obvious discomfort. It reminded me of the description of a wry look on the actresses face that a friend of ours described in her favorite anal porno. I mentioned it to my wife saying that Whitney would have loved the look on her face. That made the pain kind of hot, I think. So I was careful, but the wife explained it hurt but it was a good hurt, and I got a bit more vigorous. It was pretty animalistic. I pounded away and she writhed and bucked, and it was over probably quicker than it takes to tell.
Afterward she apparently was a little injured. Ooops. But hot.
Prior to my last visit home we had both been in sync in ultra-horny mode. I tried to stay flexible in my mind and not let the fairly specific plans we made become some kind of necessary kinky road map to my time off. What we had talked about sounded extremely hot. In the past we had had similar conversations in the style of 'making plans' but reality and real life intrudes. I just wanted to be more in the moment when I got home.
The time before with no real plans at all I though was more fulfilling, so I took our discussions as just fantasy talk and enjoyed them for that by themselves.
Still, the idea sounded really hot. The wife was in a pretty subbie place. Her idea was that I would place a bolster under her hips, and tie her down with her ass in the air. For the day. On cam.
I would watch the toddler, and go about my normal activities for my time off, whether it be catching up my laundry, doing some cooking, (I like to cook a lot, and at the camp, my meals are all made for me, good, but not quite up to the creative standards I enjoy.) maybe catch up on some online sites I can't reach through the camps, cyber cafe's filters, that sort of thing.
When the mood struck, I was going to enter the room and pick an orifice, or redden her backside, or whatever. We had been having some discussion of insertion fun , maybe taking suggestions from whatever audience had gathered...It sounded pretty hot.
My favorite suggestion she had was that I engage somebody in a little cyber dalliance while she assumed the roll of inflatable fuck-doll.
I tend to work long hours and rarely run into anyone online at the times I try, but just before I left I ran into somebody that I hadn't talked to in a while and she seemed enthused with the idea.
So I worked my last shift..(leaving for work at 6:00pm, and getting back to camp at about 8:30am) then drove about 5 hours because I had given a ride back to our metropolis to a coworker...
I am not real sure how it is that I thought I could be up 20 hours straight drive that far and organize a multi-media, multi-player sexual spectacle. On the way home this reality occurred to me. So I slept.
I sleep a lot when I get home, especially when I have a week of night shifts. I groggily woke up and somehow thought it was about 3:00 in the afternoon when it was actually about 6:30pm. I knew the wife had to check in for her job about 3:00 and when I saw her getting ready I didn't realize that we both needed to get ready for an evening function for one of the kids. I sleepily told her not to put any pants on yet, and urged her over to the bed. I tried hard to make up for lost time with a round the world tour. She was compliant, and sexy and fun and as per usual multi-orgasmic. I didn't actually put a lot of effort into her pleasure, knowing she'd have a good time regardless and just selfishly rutted like a roughneck just off the rigs. I recall grabbing her by the hair (gently) and guiding her face into a more fuckable position...at some point I decided some actual pussy was called for so I fucked her that way a while, contorting her awkwardly (for her) with legs raised. I like that position because in a semi-sit-up angle like that she has a good view of her own vagina as my cock, slippery with her juices glides in and out. I often urge her to masturbate while I fuck her. Funny that as open as she is she usually seems to wait for the suggestion before she does.
With her ankles above her earlobes that tends to raise her ass off the bed, presenting the third port on my world tour. I decided a little Greek was in order and I don't mean gyro's and falafel.
As I entered her there was some obvious discomfort. It reminded me of the description of a wry look on the actresses face that a friend of ours described in her favorite anal porno. I mentioned it to my wife saying that Whitney would have loved the look on her face. That made the pain kind of hot, I think. So I was careful, but the wife explained it hurt but it was a good hurt, and I got a bit more vigorous. It was pretty animalistic. I pounded away and she writhed and bucked, and it was over probably quicker than it takes to tell.
Afterward she apparently was a little injured. Ooops. But hot.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Timing and Cycles. - The Husband.
Men in general have a vague awareness that women are subject to hormonal cycles. These cycles we understand regulate the process of menstruation, and theres that added monthly irritability component that is often joked about but not during that time. Those of us that have been through the process of monitoring basal temperatures and saving up sperm for optimum ovulation potential, are also aware that some time in the middle of the cycle, she lets loose with an egg and there is the potential for another mouth to feed. This is usually about the extent of our working knowledge of "how she works".
I don't recall how I became aware on a much more important plane here, but at some point and I am sure it was after YEARS of marriage, I became aware of another and oh, so much more important, biorhythm at work.
The horny cycle.
This is Mother Natures cruel trick that causes the majority of teen pregnancies, bewildered but gratefully sexually sated husbands, and unexplainable girls night out leading to that first girl-girl experience.
Dollars to donuts if you have your girl rate on a scale of 1-10 each day how horny she feels (presuming you haven't done something stupid to F*@& things up) you will find that she is at her sexual peak of arousal at precisely the time she is guiding another egg down her fallopian tubes. This is why when that teen does it "just that once", or was too horny to practice safe sex, she finds herself great with child. The guy works and works on her, and then the day she gives in is the very day he better be thinking about a better job than Burger King.
There is another small window of opportunity that exists just before Aunt Flo comes to town. My working theory is that Mother Nature gives one last shot of horny-mone just before it sluffs off that last egg in a vain attempt to get that egg to amount to a future college attendee.
I actually do remember hearing something about the likelihood of pregnancy coinciding with desire in high school health class. In my defense though, I spent the entire time blushing and hoping no one said out loud what I was thinking which was that this information was irrelevant to dateless virgins. My slow process in picking up on this trend over the years since my wife popped my cherry is pretty understandable too. For one, she is a fairly sexual person by nature and likes sex for the joy of sex and the intimate contact, explaining once that she had read once that as a woman, if you don't "feel" like sex, go ahead and begin because once started you'll enjoy the experience regardless. (Any wonder I love this woman?) Now, it hasn't always worked that smoothly because it has taken years of careful study, practice and ongoing sensitivity training to avoid the situation where I have done something stupid to F*@& things up. This is to date still an ongoing concern.
So, I have mentioned before that my out of town blue collar job as a heavy equipment operator has me working seven 12.5 hour days then seven off. The reallity is that I also work a couple of overtime days, and lose a full day in transit back and forth as its a 400 mile round trip, and I have a visit with our state patrol at least once each trip. Some amicably, some not. Sometimes I outrun them.
Sex as a result is kind of a lovely afterthought to my life in general. I am not complaining, mind you, I realize everyone has pressures in there life and scheduling, and interpersonal issues and kids and roommates and neighbors that interferes with their God-given right to get laid as often as the thought crosses their fancy. I just got spoiled for a while there. When I had the luxury of being marginally self-employed for a couple of years, you saw the results with sex on an inhumanly regular basis and the time to write 2,000 word essays bragging about it.
In conversation with one of my co-workers, he mentioned that on one out of every two weeks he has off his wife is on her period. Don't ask me how on earth this came up, I am baffled, no one here knows anything at all about my enviable sex life much less my life as a sex-blogger. In conversation with her sister, it turns out that this has been the case with them too. On the one hand it seems maybe the cycle syncs up with the mates absence, but when you think about it it is pure happenstance. You have statistically exactly a 50% chance of this happening if you are home exactly 1/2 (or less) of the time.
When I was in training and had idle time on my hands, those idle hands found their way to my cock with the phone to my ear, or to the keyboard for some fruitless attempts to bump into my wife (or anyone else interesting for that matter) online. Now, I am just worked to the point of blissful, sexless, exhaustion which seems to extend a bit to my leave time as I spend most of that time paying back my sleep debt.
When I came home two weeks ago, I had very high expectations. I had inexplicably remembered what it was to be hory to the point of distraction and managed to somewhat inject my enthusiasm into her expectations as well. (See the entry on her blog about the vegetable shopping trip.) I had given her the assignment of making a sexual itinerary to include a wide variety of sexual activities to entertain me with upon my return as the pasha to the tent of my one-woman harem. -I had forgotten it was spring break and the kids were home with their unreasonable demands of "feed me, talk to me, take me places...." I was a little let down, but I also found that I sated rather quickly and got solidly on my sleep-debt paying nap schedule. I even violated the eggplant that was intended for much more sordid duty and made a lovely babaganoosh with pita wedges. How sick is that?
This time, I came home with very low expectations, sexually speaking. I had worked a total of 141 hours in 11 days and drove straight home after a 12.5 hour shift. My foot had been on an accelerator for over 16 hours at that point. I was aware she had been having very painful cramps and the kids were sick with the headache, fever, and congestion that she herself had been battling for the previous few days. It didn't look good.
I got home, parked the car, lugged a duty bag upstairs to find her tired but intriguingly attired in a yellow floral print nightie I figured that was optimism on her part and a welcome home, but didnt read too much into it or the hint of vanilla scent that wafted as I opened the door. I scooted the toddle over a bit as she had decided to claim not only all of my side of the bed sprawling sideways but also a bit of my wifes as she needed someones side to kick in the night.
Quite tired I put my arm under her neck and cuddled a bit, my back luxuriating at a horizontal position for the first time in about 20 hours. She seemed, to me, to be a little distant. In reality she was merely understandably fatigued from dealing with sick kids and waiting up past her bedtime for my arrival. In times past I would have wondered, "Oh, no, what does she know, what did I leave up on the computer....." In this case I have a pure heart and clean hands as I have neither the time nor inclination to explore any of the new-found freedoms our more open online understanding has made possible if not particularly a great idea always.
So, I dared ask. "What's wrong?" Normally this is a query to be avoided at all costs.
"Nothing" she said, tiredly but convincingly.
License granted I began roaming my hand a bit from around her shoulder to ( predictably) gently stroking creamy breasts trough silken fabric. Her always responsive nipples did not disappoint as they eagerly made their pointed presence known. A little flick here, some gentle pressure there and they were very much in play.
"You don't have to limit your touching there, you know." she teased.
"Oh really? And do I need to confine said touching to fingertips or might other extensions be used?"
She giggled a bit, but stopped with a gasp as I went down her belly with my chin and with no particular grace of fanfare, lifted her hem and found her panty-less pussy with my tongue.
"Oh, my..." was about as cogent as her commentary was at that point.
I had actually been 'preparing' myself to once again surprise her with a quick cum shot, expecting that a little fellatio was likely going to be the extent of the activity, given that I expected Aunt Flo to have arrived in force and to have bought a basket of discomfort with her. By 'preparing' I meant that I had passed at least 1/4 of the 4 hours home with my pants down to mid thigh and a hand on my, er, well, shifter. My theory was that if I teased it a bit, it both served the purpose of keeping me occupied and awake, and filled my seminal vessels with the little liquid surprise I had hoped to blast her with. I had done the same thing the night before when I was still experimenting with my stroking it while talking inane subjects with her. So I was cocked, locked and ready to rock.
Now, it seemed, I was going to need to put the safety back on and avoid any extra stimulation if I expected to complete a round-the-tour which seemed to be in the offing. As I ate her out I had to be sure to lay on a hip rather than my turgid member or something was going to go off without warning. She was quite tasty by the way, I posit that the more aroused a woman is the sweeter the nectar, I think there is some science there, as the fluid in greater quantity tends to be fresher and cleansing.
At some point I decided that my sword desperately need sheathing so I worked my way up letting her taste herself on my lips and chin as I slid inside and began that familiar rhythm. I'd like to report that I fucked her raw having performed like the stallion I am, but the truth is it was no more than a few strokes and for her a couple more orgasms (she's easy) before I found that two out of three holes would need to go wanting this go-round.
I made up for my speedy delivery with fully 5 more orgasms in the next 30 hours before Aunt Flo finally put a temporary cessation to the lack of hostilities. More on the next later as a couple deserve their own treatment. Interestingly we both kept count of the times but neither of us can remember details about the middle fuck-fest. We know that it happened we just did it without taking notes to pass along to our faithful readers..:)
I don't recall how I became aware on a much more important plane here, but at some point and I am sure it was after YEARS of marriage, I became aware of another and oh, so much more important, biorhythm at work.
The horny cycle.
This is Mother Natures cruel trick that causes the majority of teen pregnancies, bewildered but gratefully sexually sated husbands, and unexplainable girls night out leading to that first girl-girl experience.
Dollars to donuts if you have your girl rate on a scale of 1-10 each day how horny she feels (presuming you haven't done something stupid to F*@& things up) you will find that she is at her sexual peak of arousal at precisely the time she is guiding another egg down her fallopian tubes. This is why when that teen does it "just that once", or was too horny to practice safe sex, she finds herself great with child. The guy works and works on her, and then the day she gives in is the very day he better be thinking about a better job than Burger King.
There is another small window of opportunity that exists just before Aunt Flo comes to town. My working theory is that Mother Nature gives one last shot of horny-mone just before it sluffs off that last egg in a vain attempt to get that egg to amount to a future college attendee.
I actually do remember hearing something about the likelihood of pregnancy coinciding with desire in high school health class. In my defense though, I spent the entire time blushing and hoping no one said out loud what I was thinking which was that this information was irrelevant to dateless virgins. My slow process in picking up on this trend over the years since my wife popped my cherry is pretty understandable too. For one, she is a fairly sexual person by nature and likes sex for the joy of sex and the intimate contact, explaining once that she had read once that as a woman, if you don't "feel" like sex, go ahead and begin because once started you'll enjoy the experience regardless. (Any wonder I love this woman?) Now, it hasn't always worked that smoothly because it has taken years of careful study, practice and ongoing sensitivity training to avoid the situation where I have done something stupid to F*@& things up. This is to date still an ongoing concern.
So, I have mentioned before that my out of town blue collar job as a heavy equipment operator has me working seven 12.5 hour days then seven off. The reallity is that I also work a couple of overtime days, and lose a full day in transit back and forth as its a 400 mile round trip, and I have a visit with our state patrol at least once each trip. Some amicably, some not. Sometimes I outrun them.
Sex as a result is kind of a lovely afterthought to my life in general. I am not complaining, mind you, I realize everyone has pressures in there life and scheduling, and interpersonal issues and kids and roommates and neighbors that interferes with their God-given right to get laid as often as the thought crosses their fancy. I just got spoiled for a while there. When I had the luxury of being marginally self-employed for a couple of years, you saw the results with sex on an inhumanly regular basis and the time to write 2,000 word essays bragging about it.
In conversation with one of my co-workers, he mentioned that on one out of every two weeks he has off his wife is on her period. Don't ask me how on earth this came up, I am baffled, no one here knows anything at all about my enviable sex life much less my life as a sex-blogger. In conversation with her sister, it turns out that this has been the case with them too. On the one hand it seems maybe the cycle syncs up with the mates absence, but when you think about it it is pure happenstance. You have statistically exactly a 50% chance of this happening if you are home exactly 1/2 (or less) of the time.
When I was in training and had idle time on my hands, those idle hands found their way to my cock with the phone to my ear, or to the keyboard for some fruitless attempts to bump into my wife (or anyone else interesting for that matter) online. Now, I am just worked to the point of blissful, sexless, exhaustion which seems to extend a bit to my leave time as I spend most of that time paying back my sleep debt.
When I came home two weeks ago, I had very high expectations. I had inexplicably remembered what it was to be hory to the point of distraction and managed to somewhat inject my enthusiasm into her expectations as well. (See the entry on her blog about the vegetable shopping trip.) I had given her the assignment of making a sexual itinerary to include a wide variety of sexual activities to entertain me with upon my return as the pasha to the tent of my one-woman harem. -I had forgotten it was spring break and the kids were home with their unreasonable demands of "feed me, talk to me, take me places...." I was a little let down, but I also found that I sated rather quickly and got solidly on my sleep-debt paying nap schedule. I even violated the eggplant that was intended for much more sordid duty and made a lovely babaganoosh with pita wedges. How sick is that?
This time, I came home with very low expectations, sexually speaking. I had worked a total of 141 hours in 11 days and drove straight home after a 12.5 hour shift. My foot had been on an accelerator for over 16 hours at that point. I was aware she had been having very painful cramps and the kids were sick with the headache, fever, and congestion that she herself had been battling for the previous few days. It didn't look good.
I got home, parked the car, lugged a duty bag upstairs to find her tired but intriguingly attired in a yellow floral print nightie I figured that was optimism on her part and a welcome home, but didnt read too much into it or the hint of vanilla scent that wafted as I opened the door. I scooted the toddle over a bit as she had decided to claim not only all of my side of the bed sprawling sideways but also a bit of my wifes as she needed someones side to kick in the night.
Quite tired I put my arm under her neck and cuddled a bit, my back luxuriating at a horizontal position for the first time in about 20 hours. She seemed, to me, to be a little distant. In reality she was merely understandably fatigued from dealing with sick kids and waiting up past her bedtime for my arrival. In times past I would have wondered, "Oh, no, what does she know, what did I leave up on the computer....." In this case I have a pure heart and clean hands as I have neither the time nor inclination to explore any of the new-found freedoms our more open online understanding has made possible if not particularly a great idea always.
So, I dared ask. "What's wrong?" Normally this is a query to be avoided at all costs.
"Nothing" she said, tiredly but convincingly.
License granted I began roaming my hand a bit from around her shoulder to ( predictably) gently stroking creamy breasts trough silken fabric. Her always responsive nipples did not disappoint as they eagerly made their pointed presence known. A little flick here, some gentle pressure there and they were very much in play.
"You don't have to limit your touching there, you know." she teased.
"Oh really? And do I need to confine said touching to fingertips or might other extensions be used?"
She giggled a bit, but stopped with a gasp as I went down her belly with my chin and with no particular grace of fanfare, lifted her hem and found her panty-less pussy with my tongue.
"Oh, my..." was about as cogent as her commentary was at that point.
I had actually been 'preparing' myself to once again surprise her with a quick cum shot, expecting that a little fellatio was likely going to be the extent of the activity, given that I expected Aunt Flo to have arrived in force and to have bought a basket of discomfort with her. By 'preparing' I meant that I had passed at least 1/4 of the 4 hours home with my pants down to mid thigh and a hand on my, er, well, shifter. My theory was that if I teased it a bit, it both served the purpose of keeping me occupied and awake, and filled my seminal vessels with the little liquid surprise I had hoped to blast her with. I had done the same thing the night before when I was still experimenting with my stroking it while talking inane subjects with her. So I was cocked, locked and ready to rock.
Now, it seemed, I was going to need to put the safety back on and avoid any extra stimulation if I expected to complete a round-the-tour which seemed to be in the offing. As I ate her out I had to be sure to lay on a hip rather than my turgid member or something was going to go off without warning. She was quite tasty by the way, I posit that the more aroused a woman is the sweeter the nectar, I think there is some science there, as the fluid in greater quantity tends to be fresher and cleansing.
At some point I decided that my sword desperately need sheathing so I worked my way up letting her taste herself on my lips and chin as I slid inside and began that familiar rhythm. I'd like to report that I fucked her raw having performed like the stallion I am, but the truth is it was no more than a few strokes and for her a couple more orgasms (she's easy) before I found that two out of three holes would need to go wanting this go-round.
I made up for my speedy delivery with fully 5 more orgasms in the next 30 hours before Aunt Flo finally put a temporary cessation to the lack of hostilities. More on the next later as a couple deserve their own treatment. Interestingly we both kept count of the times but neither of us can remember details about the middle fuck-fest. We know that it happened we just did it without taking notes to pass along to our faithful readers..:)
Friday, March 28, 2008
Heavy Breathing, Continued. - The Husband
In an effort to continue the experiment with more data points, I decided I would try again today from on the job. I did sort of warn her by calling her from the cab telling her I would be at a port-a-john soon and what was she up to. (She was up to dealing with too sick kids so that didn't bode well...) I told her, "Well I'll give you a call after I have my cock in hand."
She laughed.
This is actually often the case as I attempt to zip back up withour dropping my phone where i wouldn't want to retrieve it. In this case though I meant that I would specifically have my cock in hand for the express purpose of pleasuring myself. I chose a remote port-ajohn with lots of fast and dangerous traffic nearby that discourages another operator from stopping and waiting.
It didn't work. We have these vans that shuttle operators around and one of those pulled up. i though they were waiting to use the john. (Turned out later they were just waiting to connect with an incoming piece of equipment to switch operators.) I had my cock fairly rigid and was already feeling those ripples that portend things to come. I just couldnt finish though it seemd and I began to feel silly so I gave up the attempt...for then.
She laughed.
This is actually often the case as I attempt to zip back up withour dropping my phone where i wouldn't want to retrieve it. In this case though I meant that I would specifically have my cock in hand for the express purpose of pleasuring myself. I chose a remote port-ajohn with lots of fast and dangerous traffic nearby that discourages another operator from stopping and waiting.
It didn't work. We have these vans that shuttle operators around and one of those pulled up. i though they were waiting to use the john. (Turned out later they were just waiting to connect with an incoming piece of equipment to switch operators.) I had my cock fairly rigid and was already feeling those ripples that portend things to come. I just couldnt finish though it seemd and I began to feel silly so I gave up the attempt...for then.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Sleepus Interuptus.
Last night I got off work, updated two blogs, had a shower and called the wife. The plan as outlined below was to stroke myself, hopefully to orgasm while talking about everyday topics without her knowledge. I had mentioned updating another blog but didn't mention taking the time on this one. so I was pretty sure she hadn't read it.
In a way this is the perfect way to engage with her sexually at the moment. She gets no pressure at all, and at the moment, she is so not in the mood. Understandable because she has been sick all last week and is having heavy pre-menstrual cramps. (Just perfect by the way now that I am home for two 5 day periods a month, she syncs up on the home week.)
My hastily formed plan was to take a very quick shower and catch her after she got the kids settled but before she drifted off to sleep. I figured I had a 30-45 minute window.
I ended up spending closer to 10 minutes in the shower than the allotted 5 when I decided that my recently shaved, very smooth cock needed to be really really clean. I was careful not to finish the job there, thus making it's next assignment more difficult to complete. I rationalized that if I had a period of masturbation not quite to completion before calling her I'd be cocked, locked and ready to rock so to speak.
I think I have mentioned that my masturbatory technique (entirely self devised without any external information at all as to how anyone else engaged in any sort of self pleasuring activity) doesn't actually consist of playing a little one on five as it were but rather a bit of mattress or pillow humping. I have good privacy in my room save for thin walls but, the once a week linen service has me a bit bodily fluids shy. I am NOT leaving any of that for some one else to clean up. Thats just gross. Concerned that I might need a little friction relief I located the bottle of lotion that the wife thought to pack. I had a couple of tissues at the ready for specimen collection if the project went to fruition.
Prepared like the former Boy Scout that I am, I called.
"Hel.....lo...." she croaked. A word and a tone conveying the answer to the unasked question, "Are you awake?"
"Hi" I quietly but encouragingly voiced. "I guess I don't need to ask if I woke you...."
"Yeah...I was asleep, I am exhausted...."
"More importantly, I hope I didn't wake the baby?".......
"No, she's out hard.....and I'll be to in a minute....goodnight...Love You..." she mumbled trailing off...
"Love you too...'
hmmmm, I thought, cock in hand. Not much to work with there. I looked down at it and it had grown some but had that sections of firmness, easily bent, like a garden hose left in the sun kinked and then cooled off. I resolved to give it a try remembering the pleasurable feeling I had felt in the shower. It seemed a little silly to put it away just because my little experiment was ill fated. I found this time as in past attempts that I am just not a lotion lovin' kinda guy. The friction level is wrong. I worked the lotion in a bit and eventual reached my preferred tactile sensation of firm but gentle pressure that stretches the skin back and forth over the rigid insides.
I discovered something I had never noticed before as I masturbated under the industrial fluorescent light fixture provided in my dorm room. The veiny-ness of my cock has layers to it. You can see the veins in the actual epidermal layers, and a completely separate and distinct network that, I assume provide fluid delivery to the hydrolic system.
Fascinating I thought.
At some point I worked in some sort of imagery more suitable to masturbatory reverie involving at least my wife, and as I recall, a girlfriend of hers, and the exhibitionist aspect of the fact that I was specifically masturbating so that I could write about it and mused about who might read that.
I figure that some will be guys such as myself that are fairly gynophillic on the Kinsey scale and despite whatever open-mindedness they wish to feel, can't like I get over the squick factor of another guys cock. There might be a few that are bi and into it, I kind of doubt that a married hetero couple is likely on the regular reading list of most gay guys, so for me in my mind anyway, I was masturbating for the majority of the 27,000 visitors to our blog which I envision to all be hot bisexual coeds. That helped.
Oh, and everything came out fine.
In a way this is the perfect way to engage with her sexually at the moment. She gets no pressure at all, and at the moment, she is so not in the mood. Understandable because she has been sick all last week and is having heavy pre-menstrual cramps. (Just perfect by the way now that I am home for two 5 day periods a month, she syncs up on the home week.)
My hastily formed plan was to take a very quick shower and catch her after she got the kids settled but before she drifted off to sleep. I figured I had a 30-45 minute window.
I ended up spending closer to 10 minutes in the shower than the allotted 5 when I decided that my recently shaved, very smooth cock needed to be really really clean. I was careful not to finish the job there, thus making it's next assignment more difficult to complete. I rationalized that if I had a period of masturbation not quite to completion before calling her I'd be cocked, locked and ready to rock so to speak.
I think I have mentioned that my masturbatory technique (entirely self devised without any external information at all as to how anyone else engaged in any sort of self pleasuring activity) doesn't actually consist of playing a little one on five as it were but rather a bit of mattress or pillow humping. I have good privacy in my room save for thin walls but, the once a week linen service has me a bit bodily fluids shy. I am NOT leaving any of that for some one else to clean up. Thats just gross. Concerned that I might need a little friction relief I located the bottle of lotion that the wife thought to pack. I had a couple of tissues at the ready for specimen collection if the project went to fruition.
Prepared like the former Boy Scout that I am, I called.
"Hel.....lo...." she croaked. A word and a tone conveying the answer to the unasked question, "Are you awake?"
"Hi" I quietly but encouragingly voiced. "I guess I don't need to ask if I woke you...."
"Yeah...I was asleep, I am exhausted...."
"More importantly, I hope I didn't wake the baby?".......
"No, she's out hard.....and I'll be to in a minute....goodnight...Love You..." she mumbled trailing off...
"Love you too...'
hmmmm, I thought, cock in hand. Not much to work with there. I looked down at it and it had grown some but had that sections of firmness, easily bent, like a garden hose left in the sun kinked and then cooled off. I resolved to give it a try remembering the pleasurable feeling I had felt in the shower. It seemed a little silly to put it away just because my little experiment was ill fated. I found this time as in past attempts that I am just not a lotion lovin' kinda guy. The friction level is wrong. I worked the lotion in a bit and eventual reached my preferred tactile sensation of firm but gentle pressure that stretches the skin back and forth over the rigid insides.
I discovered something I had never noticed before as I masturbated under the industrial fluorescent light fixture provided in my dorm room. The veiny-ness of my cock has layers to it. You can see the veins in the actual epidermal layers, and a completely separate and distinct network that, I assume provide fluid delivery to the hydrolic system.
Fascinating I thought.
At some point I worked in some sort of imagery more suitable to masturbatory reverie involving at least my wife, and as I recall, a girlfriend of hers, and the exhibitionist aspect of the fact that I was specifically masturbating so that I could write about it and mused about who might read that.
I figure that some will be guys such as myself that are fairly gynophillic on the Kinsey scale and despite whatever open-mindedness they wish to feel, can't like I get over the squick factor of another guys cock. There might be a few that are bi and into it, I kind of doubt that a married hetero couple is likely on the regular reading list of most gay guys, so for me in my mind anyway, I was masturbating for the majority of the 27,000 visitors to our blog which I envision to all be hot bisexual coeds. That helped.
Oh, and everything came out fine.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Random non-sexual banter with a porn star.
The company put Sirius Satellite Radio in my cab overnight. I didn't actually notice because I just went by feel and as I went from remote place to remote place I pressed the scan buttons on the FM band it was on looking to pick-up any of the three stations that reach the area. For some reason the really well paid mechanics that work on these things don;t know that there is a lead from the radios that should go straight to the battery instead of through the ignition so the pre-sets are always out on every piece of equipment I get on.
At some point the control tower called me up and asked me to tune my Sirius Radio to 184. I did but was busy using the equipment to make my employer money so I couldn't actually work out the controls or what to do. Apparently the weather station (Channel 184) allows the unit to talk to Sirius and unlock something or another. I put it on scan and after a while on and off, I got stations, I thought at first that they were all coming in in Spanish. (Later I figured out some were Spanish and some French) I, for a moment thought maybe someone was having fun at my expense. Our equipment is at times left in Spanish mode by jokesters or maybe Hispanic operators, but jokesters are more likely. The first English station I came to was The Playboy Chanel. I called up the wife from the nearest port-a-john. I told her she better hurry if she wants to get "the easy one" before The Girls Next Door do. I wondered what it would be, moans and giggles or what. Can't very well do a centerfold layout over the air.
The first thing I heard was some sort of call in game show where you had to guess what word the porn star (I assume) was hinting at and whoever wins gets some prize from Hef's grab bag. These guys were noticeably excited to be talking to the girl, but the subject matter was entirely non-sexual. This at first struck me as odd and desperate. I imagined these guys watching this girl over and over again on a worn out VHS cassette till the knew every curve of her better than perhaps she did. I thought that maybe some of them can almost make themselves believe that they "know" her. In a way, they do, I suppose. At least the version of her she chooses to share in that way.
I got to thinking that it actually did make sense for them to get exuited to be talking to her. I still look forward to random stolen moments of conversation I have with my wife from plastic toilet enclosures buffeted by winds at high elevation. I was thinking that in my younger voyeuristic days, if I had thought I could in anyway keep my voice calm and get away with it I would love to have masturbated while having a conversation with one of my guilty teen-age lust-crushes.
I think that I might just try that with my wife sometime. More likely to get away with it if I try it out on her before she reads this though. Mum's the word, ya'all.
At some point the control tower called me up and asked me to tune my Sirius Radio to 184. I did but was busy using the equipment to make my employer money so I couldn't actually work out the controls or what to do. Apparently the weather station (Channel 184) allows the unit to talk to Sirius and unlock something or another. I put it on scan and after a while on and off, I got stations, I thought at first that they were all coming in in Spanish. (Later I figured out some were Spanish and some French) I, for a moment thought maybe someone was having fun at my expense. Our equipment is at times left in Spanish mode by jokesters or maybe Hispanic operators, but jokesters are more likely. The first English station I came to was The Playboy Chanel. I called up the wife from the nearest port-a-john. I told her she better hurry if she wants to get "the easy one" before The Girls Next Door do. I wondered what it would be, moans and giggles or what. Can't very well do a centerfold layout over the air.
The first thing I heard was some sort of call in game show where you had to guess what word the porn star (I assume) was hinting at and whoever wins gets some prize from Hef's grab bag. These guys were noticeably excited to be talking to the girl, but the subject matter was entirely non-sexual. This at first struck me as odd and desperate. I imagined these guys watching this girl over and over again on a worn out VHS cassette till the knew every curve of her better than perhaps she did. I thought that maybe some of them can almost make themselves believe that they "know" her. In a way, they do, I suppose. At least the version of her she chooses to share in that way.
I got to thinking that it actually did make sense for them to get exuited to be talking to her. I still look forward to random stolen moments of conversation I have with my wife from plastic toilet enclosures buffeted by winds at high elevation. I was thinking that in my younger voyeuristic days, if I had thought I could in anyway keep my voice calm and get away with it I would love to have masturbated while having a conversation with one of my guilty teen-age lust-crushes.
I think that I might just try that with my wife sometime. More likely to get away with it if I try it out on her before she reads this though. Mum's the word, ya'all.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Earthquake... -The Husband
I kinda doubt she felt the tremors this morning since my pillow is located 310 kilometers from hers. It woke me up though. I need to be asleep because I have my second of eight 12.5 hour shifts in a few hours. Even the sleepy potion that comes when I, well, come didn't help.
I have mandatory training the day after my "on-week" ends, then I'll probably pick up another 25 hours of overtime in a couple of days then dash home bleary eyed. Small wonder that I seem to have less time for sexing and blogging these days.
My last week on was 8 successive night shifts. I woke the wife just about every time I called, and slept when she was awake. It was hard not being able to reach out from one of my mile-high-plus port-a-johns. Sitting a-top 16 growling diesel cylinders doesn't make for a very good acoustics so I retreat to "my office" to call her. So far, despite the surprisingly well maintained and relatively hygienic conditions of these portable outhouses, I have yet to engage in an audible sexual escapade from one, but desperate times....
I have mandatory training the day after my "on-week" ends, then I'll probably pick up another 25 hours of overtime in a couple of days then dash home bleary eyed. Small wonder that I seem to have less time for sexing and blogging these days.
My last week on was 8 successive night shifts. I woke the wife just about every time I called, and slept when she was awake. It was hard not being able to reach out from one of my mile-high-plus port-a-johns. Sitting a-top 16 growling diesel cylinders doesn't make for a very good acoustics so I retreat to "my office" to call her. So far, despite the surprisingly well maintained and relatively hygienic conditions of these portable outhouses, I have yet to engage in an audible sexual escapade from one, but desperate times....
Friday, February 29, 2008
"Ow! "says the reluctant sub. - The Husband.
"Owwww, that hurt," she said.
"It's supposed to," I said smacking her ass through her jeans again and reaching for a kitchen drawer.
"NO IMPLEMENTS!" She protested and closed the drawer. I ignored her and grabbed a large bamboo spoon.
About the 8th swat I recognized a little less vigorous protest and the way she sidled sideways after the swat.
"Enjoyed that last one did you?"
"I enjoyed all of them, but I have to feed the baby who is watching you, by the way."
Being the responsible parent that I am I dragged her to where a counter was between us and the cherub and bent her over same. "Let me see if I am doing any good." The red side of her left cheek just cried out to be matched on the right. So I did.
In no time her ankles were retrained by the jeans around them, and she was shamelessly crying out with cheek against the cool counter, as I pumped in and out of her from behind. Reaching around I was pinching her clit cruelly an feeling her quiver as she clamped her thighs together.
As she collapsed after a particularly violent orgasm no longer able to hold the awkward position, I steered her descent toward the floor onto a nearby step stool and grabbing a hank of hair I guided her lips around my cock just in time for her to swallow it down. Timing is everything.
"It's supposed to," I said smacking her ass through her jeans again and reaching for a kitchen drawer.
"NO IMPLEMENTS!" She protested and closed the drawer. I ignored her and grabbed a large bamboo spoon.
About the 8th swat I recognized a little less vigorous protest and the way she sidled sideways after the swat.
"Enjoyed that last one did you?"
"I enjoyed all of them, but I have to feed the baby who is watching you, by the way."
Being the responsible parent that I am I dragged her to where a counter was between us and the cherub and bent her over same. "Let me see if I am doing any good." The red side of her left cheek just cried out to be matched on the right. So I did.
In no time her ankles were retrained by the jeans around them, and she was shamelessly crying out with cheek against the cool counter, as I pumped in and out of her from behind. Reaching around I was pinching her clit cruelly an feeling her quiver as she clamped her thighs together.
As she collapsed after a particularly violent orgasm no longer able to hold the awkward position, I steered her descent toward the floor onto a nearby step stool and grabbing a hank of hair I guided her lips around my cock just in time for her to swallow it down. Timing is everything.
All work and no play. -The Husband
I have completed training for my new blue collar job. I work now 220 miles from home and stay in a campus known as "The M@n Camp. " My wife had a dream the other night that I was having an affair. Even if I managed to alter my gynophillic orientation, I am a bit fatigued by my work day. The heavy equipment I operate is much too large not to have power steering and brakes, but it is surprisingly exhausting. I awake at 5:30 each morning, and by the time I am back in camp, fed, showered and in bed its usually about 9:30. This leaves time only for a little fairly dreamless sleep.
On the plus side, after working 90-110 hours in 7-8 days I get 6-7 days off. A whole week of uninterrupted kink. Whatever shall I do.
I was sick the last few days of work and was a little relieved when my request to work an 8th successive 12.5 hour day of overtime was not granted. This left me coming home a day early. Having had my libido on hold for a week, I was surprised the the prospect of being able to come home anytime I was alert enough to spend 4 more hours on the road dodging large trucks laden with dangerous chemicals driven by idiots with anger management problems and abetted by corrupt local police departments**.
I started out at 2:00am having gotten 5 hours of sleep and having run out of decongestant. I drove an hour to the nearest 24 hour WalMart and bought some drugs that were alleged to be non-drowsy. They only widened the distance between the two sets of lines I was trying to keep my car between. Depth perception only works if you keep your eye1ss focused in the same direction. I pulled into a rest area on a reservation that seemed from the vandalism to indicated that that particular tribes youth has not made much progress towards civilization in the last 15 years. Sad really that such a once proud group of warriors descendants are reduced to "claiming" pieces of BIA property with a magic marker and pointed scratching implements. I'd have more respect I think if they would swoop down out of the hills and carjack me. That thought inspired me to amble down the road a piece to a well lit parking lot of a closed grocery where some 18 wheelers were tied down for the night. I closed my eyes a few minutes and was asleep but cramped. Deciding I was too sick and tired to drive I curled up in the back seat of my sub-compact and slept for an hour.
I finally got home nearly 6 hours after my weary journey began. The first trip up to my interview had taken only 2 hours and 45 minutes and involved losing a couple of SUV's unwisely chosen by the state police for pursuit. Given that I was too tired to enjoy a good high speed dash through mountain passes, it should be no real surprise that I wasn't that ready for sex when I got home. My brother-in-law does similar long shift work and his wife had reported that I would likely be in no condition to put out when I came home. I believed my superior libido would overcome this notion but I was wrong. It took several naps and about 15 hours of decompression before I worked up the urge to ravish the wife.
Guiding her head under the covers to my less than fully erect cock quickly reminded it what its purpose was in life. Fully turgid I found that I needed to bury it to the hilt in her. I was plunging away hissing dirty filthy things in her ear until she quickly turned the tables. I am constantly amazed how I can spin some long, involved fantasy that makes her writhe in enjoyment, and how quickly a few succinct words from her can turn that fantasy on its side and make me come long before my plans to ravish her endlessly are through.
**My last trip home a tanker laden with highly corrosive material attempted to intimidate me into exceeding the speed limit of 65 mph by a large margin. I am not opposed to speeding per se for he or I but I don't take well to bullying. Since we seemed to be playing a game of who has the largest cock I wasn't about to concede as my rig at work is easily 4 times the size of his. I finally forced him to pass my sub-compact which by the way can and has done easily double the speed limit at times. I got on my phone and was reading off the numbers on the back of his rig when he decided to slam on his rakes in a silly attempt to make me rear-end him. Turns out a 2,000 lb car with four wheel disk brakes and speed rated tires slows faster than an 18 wheeler driven by a nimrod. The local police department when I attempted to have him subjected to a sobriety test told me that I was lucky it happened in their jurisdiction as they would have cited me for impeding the flow of traffic.
On the plus side, after working 90-110 hours in 7-8 days I get 6-7 days off. A whole week of uninterrupted kink. Whatever shall I do.
I was sick the last few days of work and was a little relieved when my request to work an 8th successive 12.5 hour day of overtime was not granted. This left me coming home a day early. Having had my libido on hold for a week, I was surprised the the prospect of being able to come home anytime I was alert enough to spend 4 more hours on the road dodging large trucks laden with dangerous chemicals driven by idiots with anger management problems and abetted by corrupt local police departments**.
I started out at 2:00am having gotten 5 hours of sleep and having run out of decongestant. I drove an hour to the nearest 24 hour WalMart and bought some drugs that were alleged to be non-drowsy. They only widened the distance between the two sets of lines I was trying to keep my car between. Depth perception only works if you keep your eye1ss focused in the same direction. I pulled into a rest area on a reservation that seemed from the vandalism to indicated that that particular tribes youth has not made much progress towards civilization in the last 15 years. Sad really that such a once proud group of warriors descendants are reduced to "claiming" pieces of BIA property with a magic marker and pointed scratching implements. I'd have more respect I think if they would swoop down out of the hills and carjack me. That thought inspired me to amble down the road a piece to a well lit parking lot of a closed grocery where some 18 wheelers were tied down for the night. I closed my eyes a few minutes and was asleep but cramped. Deciding I was too sick and tired to drive I curled up in the back seat of my sub-compact and slept for an hour.
I finally got home nearly 6 hours after my weary journey began. The first trip up to my interview had taken only 2 hours and 45 minutes and involved losing a couple of SUV's unwisely chosen by the state police for pursuit. Given that I was too tired to enjoy a good high speed dash through mountain passes, it should be no real surprise that I wasn't that ready for sex when I got home. My brother-in-law does similar long shift work and his wife had reported that I would likely be in no condition to put out when I came home. I believed my superior libido would overcome this notion but I was wrong. It took several naps and about 15 hours of decompression before I worked up the urge to ravish the wife.
Guiding her head under the covers to my less than fully erect cock quickly reminded it what its purpose was in life. Fully turgid I found that I needed to bury it to the hilt in her. I was plunging away hissing dirty filthy things in her ear until she quickly turned the tables. I am constantly amazed how I can spin some long, involved fantasy that makes her writhe in enjoyment, and how quickly a few succinct words from her can turn that fantasy on its side and make me come long before my plans to ravish her endlessly are through.
**My last trip home a tanker laden with highly corrosive material attempted to intimidate me into exceeding the speed limit of 65 mph by a large margin. I am not opposed to speeding per se for he or I but I don't take well to bullying. Since we seemed to be playing a game of who has the largest cock I wasn't about to concede as my rig at work is easily 4 times the size of his. I finally forced him to pass my sub-compact which by the way can and has done easily double the speed limit at times. I got on my phone and was reading off the numbers on the back of his rig when he decided to slam on his rakes in a silly attempt to make me rear-end him. Turns out a 2,000 lb car with four wheel disk brakes and speed rated tires slows faster than an 18 wheeler driven by a nimrod. The local police department when I attempted to have him subjected to a sobriety test told me that I was lucky it happened in their jurisdiction as they would have cited me for impeding the flow of traffic.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Porn can be instructive. -The Husband.
A lot of modern porn seems to turn us off a bit. On the one hand, we aren't eager to return to the bushy 70's. On the other hand, whats with all the spitting?
One of the other things we both found a little gratuitous and not very interesting was the sequence they seem to prefer for the formulaic scenes. It always starts with fellatio. (Which is entirely as it should be of course.) It is the later sequences that seemed out of order to us.
Mouth to pussy works well for us since just putting my cock in her mouth does in fact make her verifiable wet. Pussy to mouth works OK because she does agree with me that her pussy is delicious. Ass to pussy seems to be be just asking for an infection, and an infected pussy is fun for no one. The last permutation just made me think..."Why is that fun?" Watching a porn star taking it up the ass, and then eagerly gobbling the cock seemed to me to stretch credibility.
Until we tried it.
I alluded to this earlier, but wasn't sure what I wanted to write about it our how explicitly.
The drowned rat hair, the obvious discomfort, the eagerness of her sucking...the craven look in her eyes when I had her against the wall in the shower and demanded she express how she liked it. Fingering her drenched cunt as she enthusiastically explained how slutty it felt to her.
It had come about because she was trying to be creative in an effort to get me off in a phone-sex chat we were having. It was mildly D/s related in tone, and she was enjoying some butt sex in the scene. I can't remember exactly but I think it was unintentional when she started sucking me off in her tale, and I pointed out the sequence. At some point she indicated that it would feel slutty to have me grab her by the hair and cum in her mouth after pulling out of her ass. For the days that followed that chat up until I actually got home, I threatened to make that a reality.
When I got home (this is the visit a little over 2 weeks ago), I had surprised her. I had told her I was going to be a day later getting home than I was. I walked into the bedroom to find her in "comfortable pajamas". When I started fondling her she protested that she needed a shower. I grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her knees as I unbuckled my pants. I had been freshly showered about 18 hours previously. I then spent 12 hours on a truck then 4 hours more in my car to get home. I told her I wasn't waiting for a shower before she sucked me off. I was kidding, sort of. But she went to it anyway, later telling me I tasted like a mechanic. Probably the exhaust leak under my car.
I finally let her up and into the shower which isn't really designed for two. Somehow in the shower even dirty things seem a little cleaner. She hates getting water in her eyes but complained not at all as I encouraged her to kneel and continue the blow job. At some point I told her to turn around. I had her bend over and and arrange herself at an angle uncomfortable for her but optimal for my thrusting. She said it hurt quite a bit, not this time as I would have expected from the entry but rather the depth and angle. I offered to stop but she said it felt really really good. So I obliged her further. When her whimpers got a little louder I told her that if she had had as much as she could stand of the butt-sex the only way to get out of it was to offer another orifice. She eagerly pulled off and got back on her knees. I told her that that was the sluttiest thing I had ever seen. We went back and forth 3-4 times like that. It was pretty amazing to see.
When I finally let her up and out of the water stream, her hair was a mess, but her eyes were bright. She is really good these days about acknowledging her part in our kink-fests. There was a time though that she would either be a little coy or even in denial in the cold light of day. I have issues with accepting my kinky tendencies and like to hear that we aren't doing something solely because I want it. I like to have her articulate things to make it clear that she is as turned on by things as I am. I asked her this time to tell me how she felt about me fucking her face after fucking her mouth. I wish I could recall the words she used but in the two weeks since the exact phrasing has been lost. She was most convincing in her enthusiasm.
One of the other things we both found a little gratuitous and not very interesting was the sequence they seem to prefer for the formulaic scenes. It always starts with fellatio. (Which is entirely as it should be of course.) It is the later sequences that seemed out of order to us.
Mouth to pussy works well for us since just putting my cock in her mouth does in fact make her verifiable wet. Pussy to mouth works OK because she does agree with me that her pussy is delicious. Ass to pussy seems to be be just asking for an infection, and an infected pussy is fun for no one. The last permutation just made me think..."Why is that fun?" Watching a porn star taking it up the ass, and then eagerly gobbling the cock seemed to me to stretch credibility.
Until we tried it.
I alluded to this earlier, but wasn't sure what I wanted to write about it our how explicitly.
The drowned rat hair, the obvious discomfort, the eagerness of her sucking...the craven look in her eyes when I had her against the wall in the shower and demanded she express how she liked it. Fingering her drenched cunt as she enthusiastically explained how slutty it felt to her.
It had come about because she was trying to be creative in an effort to get me off in a phone-sex chat we were having. It was mildly D/s related in tone, and she was enjoying some butt sex in the scene. I can't remember exactly but I think it was unintentional when she started sucking me off in her tale, and I pointed out the sequence. At some point she indicated that it would feel slutty to have me grab her by the hair and cum in her mouth after pulling out of her ass. For the days that followed that chat up until I actually got home, I threatened to make that a reality.
When I got home (this is the visit a little over 2 weeks ago), I had surprised her. I had told her I was going to be a day later getting home than I was. I walked into the bedroom to find her in "comfortable pajamas". When I started fondling her she protested that she needed a shower. I grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her knees as I unbuckled my pants. I had been freshly showered about 18 hours previously. I then spent 12 hours on a truck then 4 hours more in my car to get home. I told her I wasn't waiting for a shower before she sucked me off. I was kidding, sort of. But she went to it anyway, later telling me I tasted like a mechanic. Probably the exhaust leak under my car.
I finally let her up and into the shower which isn't really designed for two. Somehow in the shower even dirty things seem a little cleaner. She hates getting water in her eyes but complained not at all as I encouraged her to kneel and continue the blow job. At some point I told her to turn around. I had her bend over and and arrange herself at an angle uncomfortable for her but optimal for my thrusting. She said it hurt quite a bit, not this time as I would have expected from the entry but rather the depth and angle. I offered to stop but she said it felt really really good. So I obliged her further. When her whimpers got a little louder I told her that if she had had as much as she could stand of the butt-sex the only way to get out of it was to offer another orifice. She eagerly pulled off and got back on her knees. I told her that that was the sluttiest thing I had ever seen. We went back and forth 3-4 times like that. It was pretty amazing to see.
When I finally let her up and out of the water stream, her hair was a mess, but her eyes were bright. She is really good these days about acknowledging her part in our kink-fests. There was a time though that she would either be a little coy or even in denial in the cold light of day. I have issues with accepting my kinky tendencies and like to hear that we aren't doing something solely because I want it. I like to have her articulate things to make it clear that she is as turned on by things as I am. I asked her this time to tell me how she felt about me fucking her face after fucking her mouth. I wish I could recall the words she used but in the two weeks since the exact phrasing has been lost. She was most convincing in her enthusiasm.
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