The bisexual fantasies we play at in bed usually involve my imagining the follow on post by my wife being thus-ly titled.
In the rich aural experience of her imaginative erotic tales spun midst past sessions in bed, often she tells of seduction of some young ingenue, testing her limits and urging her past them.
She was a bit like that with me last night.
Pretty unexpected given the long drought. She is a bit more assertive in life having returned to the small town she grew up in.
Last night after a thourough fairly full-body mole/blemish/assorted curiosities check, I suggested she would be more comfortable if she were also shirtless.
She agreed, and I exchanged a front rub for the back rub that was the apology tendered for the pain she had caused extracting various ingrown hairs and others of its ilk.
Not necessarily tit-for-tat as it were, but I was a bit out of practice.
I then offered an ingrown check in her nether regions, which in the cold light of day sounds neither romantic nor particularly attractive.
Having gotten her pants off I proceeded to perform my very best version of a cunninlingus technique explained to me by a charitable bi-sexual girl. She writhed appreciatively and often.
I began adding first a finger, then two. Some discomfort seemed evident so I prodded and adjusted carefully. When I seemed to have achieved angle and acquiescence I noted that some additional naturally occurring lubricant wouldn't be amiss. Generally, some foreplay fixes that. And yes, I am well aware how lucky I am the the foreplay that works best is her performing some fellatio. ~shrug~
I rotated around aiming eventually for a 69 position, which in truth often devolves to 68 where I owe her one. Which seemed OK, given I had at least this time gotten a head start on the debt.
As my posterior got in range a bit, she began grasping and stroking me a bit through my shorts. Then pressure was shifted and applied generally to my perineum and then specifically to my, er well you you know..~blush~ back there, through the shorts.
She got a bit more intrusive, then roughly pulled the shorts down just enough to access, and slipped a finger in. There was a noticeable increase in wetness, showing me that perhaps its not a fellatio specific response so much as a please the other person arouses her response.
In a throaty voice she more or less ordered me to my knees and continued to press into me...I was dry and stretched and uncomfortable but very much aroused. She said,
"Can you take another?"
"Uh, how many do you have in now??"
"Two."
That somewhat explained the discomfort.
I'm not sure if I answered the question or not. Face pressed to the mattress I willed myself to relax.
Reading my mind, or perhaps my tensed body...
"Relax..",
She said.
Sidling up to me, she used the thrust of her pelvis on the forward stroke, clearly "fucking" me.
"Isn't 'fucking' someone great?" I gasped out between tensing.
She rolled off and assumed a more submissive posture and let me reclaim the dominant position. I didn't last long.
Afterward, a little chagrined, as I get in these situations, I said to her her,
"Next time: one word: LUBE. I'm a little sore"
"One word, NO!" she said. "Or, STOP!. Or OW!"
"I thought it would get easier if I held out," I replyed.
"Men always think that..." She said bemused.
When she kissed and seduced a girl, I never really picture me as the fuckee. Especially not in male mode. There is undeniably an unstated homo-erotic content to this play for us, though clearly the act itself between a male and a female is by definition not and for many couples comfortable free-wheeling play.
This was, like all similar mostly unblogged about experiences, both very hot and a little disturbing. Not so much disturbing as disconcerting.
This morning, a little sore, it was arousing to think about the source of that little reminder.
Up earlier than her, I crawled in next to her sleeping form and attempted, probably unwisely to re-channel the time. I hoarsed to her some comment about how what was hot wasn't the prostate massage, which missed the mark. Rather it was her course whispers of encouragement. I was actually fishing for direct quotes of what it was she said during as I can't quite gather them. Sleeping, I don;t think she even really had any idea what I was saying or doing for a while.
We ended up inflagrante or some such and I finished fairly quickly though not as soon as the night before. She, having 'finished' a time or two before me, sleepily said as I rolled off, "But you didn't finish..."
I explained with a smile that I did, and went to make her some breakfast as sort of an apology to the sleepus interuptus.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Woo.
In times long past, I used to complain directly about the lack of frequency of sex. In sophomoric fashion at times, I would say,
"Blow me!"
To which she would rejoin,
"Woo me!"
Well, apparently I did.
I guess it wouldn't matter if she had been reading the blog or not if the end result was some connubial bliss, but I kind of hope not. She would have no reason to know I am back blogging, but she is much more blog-sophisticated than I an may have this on a reader or a feed. It just seems odd that just since whining here she initiated.
You read right, she initiated.
The only thing even remotely bedroom related I had brought up was when cleaning the yard and porch up I mentioned that we needed to bring the small ones crib in and finally set it up. (She hasn't slept in it yet at 2.5 years, but I digress.) I did point out that we need to kick this one out of our marital bed earlier than the others but it was conveyed (I hope) conversationally not accusatorilly.
My middle daughter had a birthday and my wife had to work, so I drove the birthday girl the 40 miles to the (relatively) "big city" (where at 4:00pm the first three stores we tried were closed!) She and I had a good time, had dinned together and did some clearance sale shopping. I was pretty proud of how budget conscious she was in her choices. I wished economic circumstances were different but was please at how adaptable my daughter was.
We returned and showed off what "Mom" had bought her. (This is a kind of fun tradition we seem to be starting with the practicalities of gift shopping so far away. The recipient picks out the gifts, but tries to anticipate what the giver would have likely gotten her. Works surprisingly accurately when viewed after the fact. For example, the oldest sister "got" her clothes, the youngest "got her a big red bouncy ball, the brother got her Pokemon stuff, etc.)
Anyway Mom was pleased at the gleam in daughters eye recounting our adventure. SHe had to ring up a purchase. (A cousin, -small town.) So we headed the rest of the way across the state line to our happy little acre of god's country, assuming God is experiencing a drought and likes an absence of neighbors.
Whilst at WalMart, I scanned the meat counter for yellow stickers of meat that needed to be moved before it starts moving on its own. I found vacume packed "random bison steak" (direct quote.) As I unpacked the grocery portion of our trip I mentally combined the good looking tri-color sweet peppers and the bison and came up with "buffalo-kebabs".
I was slicing and dicing like Ron Popeil when my wife returned. She leaned in for a kiss, I automatically presented a cheek, then realized, too late that possibly that was not where she had aimed. She settled for a peck, and said sotto voice,
"I made a little bed for her in 'her room' (an alcove off of ours.) Maybe I can get her into it tonight."
Clearly this was an invitation.
The child was well and truly wound up at 10:00 pm still when she began the attempt, so I felt no rush in joining her in the bedroom.
About 11:00, Good eats and some other show watched, I realized I better head back. As I approached the door I had a sense of dread, what if my wife is also asleep by now? The light under the door reassured, but the sense of trepidation remained.
She was reading, ALONE. I still had no idea where to start. "Blow me!" wasn't going to cut it, clearly.
I settled for nothing and picked up a Soduku book.
As I finally tired and put it down, I couldn't bring myself to initiate. I laid down and snuggled in my covers, careful not to turn away or over as I do when I sleep so as not to give body English of rejection.
She rose to the bait and said,
"Roll over, let me look at that thing on your back."
My wiofe missed her calling as a dermatologist. Not relavant here, but perhaps a post another time is the odd connection between hunting in-growns and black heads and its causational relationship to sexual congress.
Which happened
In non-previously-scripted ways.
Involving submission, a little oral sex, some fingering, some coarsely whispered dominance, and some anal.
But not like you'd think....
"Blow me!"
To which she would rejoin,
"Woo me!"
Well, apparently I did.
I guess it wouldn't matter if she had been reading the blog or not if the end result was some connubial bliss, but I kind of hope not. She would have no reason to know I am back blogging, but she is much more blog-sophisticated than I an may have this on a reader or a feed. It just seems odd that just since whining here she initiated.
You read right, she initiated.
The only thing even remotely bedroom related I had brought up was when cleaning the yard and porch up I mentioned that we needed to bring the small ones crib in and finally set it up. (She hasn't slept in it yet at 2.5 years, but I digress.) I did point out that we need to kick this one out of our marital bed earlier than the others but it was conveyed (I hope) conversationally not accusatorilly.
My middle daughter had a birthday and my wife had to work, so I drove the birthday girl the 40 miles to the (relatively) "big city" (where at 4:00pm the first three stores we tried were closed!) She and I had a good time, had dinned together and did some clearance sale shopping. I was pretty proud of how budget conscious she was in her choices. I wished economic circumstances were different but was please at how adaptable my daughter was.
We returned and showed off what "Mom" had bought her. (This is a kind of fun tradition we seem to be starting with the practicalities of gift shopping so far away. The recipient picks out the gifts, but tries to anticipate what the giver would have likely gotten her. Works surprisingly accurately when viewed after the fact. For example, the oldest sister "got" her clothes, the youngest "got her a big red bouncy ball, the brother got her Pokemon stuff, etc.)
Anyway Mom was pleased at the gleam in daughters eye recounting our adventure. SHe had to ring up a purchase. (A cousin, -small town.) So we headed the rest of the way across the state line to our happy little acre of god's country, assuming God is experiencing a drought and likes an absence of neighbors.
Whilst at WalMart, I scanned the meat counter for yellow stickers of meat that needed to be moved before it starts moving on its own. I found vacume packed "random bison steak" (direct quote.) As I unpacked the grocery portion of our trip I mentally combined the good looking tri-color sweet peppers and the bison and came up with "buffalo-kebabs".
I was slicing and dicing like Ron Popeil when my wife returned. She leaned in for a kiss, I automatically presented a cheek, then realized, too late that possibly that was not where she had aimed. She settled for a peck, and said sotto voice,
"I made a little bed for her in 'her room' (an alcove off of ours.) Maybe I can get her into it tonight."
Clearly this was an invitation.
The child was well and truly wound up at 10:00 pm still when she began the attempt, so I felt no rush in joining her in the bedroom.
About 11:00, Good eats and some other show watched, I realized I better head back. As I approached the door I had a sense of dread, what if my wife is also asleep by now? The light under the door reassured, but the sense of trepidation remained.
She was reading, ALONE. I still had no idea where to start. "Blow me!" wasn't going to cut it, clearly.
I settled for nothing and picked up a Soduku book.
As I finally tired and put it down, I couldn't bring myself to initiate. I laid down and snuggled in my covers, careful not to turn away or over as I do when I sleep so as not to give body English of rejection.
She rose to the bait and said,
"Roll over, let me look at that thing on your back."
My wiofe missed her calling as a dermatologist. Not relavant here, but perhaps a post another time is the odd connection between hunting in-growns and black heads and its causational relationship to sexual congress.
Which happened
In non-previously-scripted ways.
Involving submission, a little oral sex, some fingering, some coarsely whispered dominance, and some anal.
But not like you'd think....
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Money, Religion and Politics
Aren't those the three things one is supposed to avoid in polite company to avoid conflict?
On the other hand if you can't discuss such with your spouse, why on earth would you get married at all? (Oh, right for the sex! ~grin~)
I just remembered another time recently that I felt connected. When we met she was a Regan hating Democrat that liked (as a person) Barbara Bush. She ended up a W fan really early on in his career long before he was the Republican nominee. I had some other actual conservative in mind then but we had spirited but friendly discussions. In the general we both voted for Bush (I know, I Know)....
Anyway this last election cycle, I was absolutely un-enthused by Senator McCain, no Goldwater Republican, he.
I was considering Obama, as the strongest message I could send to the so-called conservatives that enough with the R.I.N.O.'s. I foresaw signs of this downturn we are in and thought a Reagan-style communicator was what we need. (I like the rest of the country mistook good speech writing and great teleprompter skills for oratory skill). It would really have been full-circle if she had started gone left to right and I later went hard right to moderate left.
At some point in between Obama's very careful generalizations and fluff, I was able to discern that I agreed with him on not one single idea or policy. So there wasn't any real way I could support him. I wasn't particularly surprised and in no way dismayed when he won. I like him a lot for his symbolic value. Never again will anyone of color have any reason to complain that society keeps them down, positive I think all the way around. Off track already here but my main problem lately with Obama is he claims to listen to all ideas, but really just scours the usual liberal haunts for someone that agrees that his already set agenda is actually economically sound. John Maynard Keyes has been disproved every time his theories have been employed, yet he is still quoted and extolled as if he weren't the "big picture" economist who clearly hadn't the mathematics chops to balance a checkbook. Oops I'm way off topic here....
Anyway I was watching the news the other morning before going to bed, and she was in the room. I have been trying to minimize my terse comments about the ignorant son of an economist(really!)with mixed results. She comment, reasonably that didn't it take a lot longer than 2 months for anything he did or plans to do impacts the economy. I allowed that generally that is so, but the stock market is forward valuing and non-partisan. It doesn't care at all about anything but whether or not the climate is good for making money. I don;t think I necessarily persuaded her, but I felt no urgency to do so, no did I feel like my ideas were dismissed. In short we just had an interesting discussion as I enjoy with anyone on the rare occasion that I am not so argumentative to wear me and the other person out.
It seemed at the time diagnostically significant that we could enjoy each other intellectually.
On the other hand if you can't discuss such with your spouse, why on earth would you get married at all? (Oh, right for the sex! ~grin~)
I just remembered another time recently that I felt connected. When we met she was a Regan hating Democrat that liked (as a person) Barbara Bush. She ended up a W fan really early on in his career long before he was the Republican nominee. I had some other actual conservative in mind then but we had spirited but friendly discussions. In the general we both voted for Bush (I know, I Know)....
Anyway this last election cycle, I was absolutely un-enthused by Senator McCain, no Goldwater Republican, he.
I was considering Obama, as the strongest message I could send to the so-called conservatives that enough with the R.I.N.O.'s. I foresaw signs of this downturn we are in and thought a Reagan-style communicator was what we need. (I like the rest of the country mistook good speech writing and great teleprompter skills for oratory skill). It would really have been full-circle if she had started gone left to right and I later went hard right to moderate left.
At some point in between Obama's very careful generalizations and fluff, I was able to discern that I agreed with him on not one single idea or policy. So there wasn't any real way I could support him. I wasn't particularly surprised and in no way dismayed when he won. I like him a lot for his symbolic value. Never again will anyone of color have any reason to complain that society keeps them down, positive I think all the way around. Off track already here but my main problem lately with Obama is he claims to listen to all ideas, but really just scours the usual liberal haunts for someone that agrees that his already set agenda is actually economically sound. John Maynard Keyes has been disproved every time his theories have been employed, yet he is still quoted and extolled as if he weren't the "big picture" economist who clearly hadn't the mathematics chops to balance a checkbook. Oops I'm way off topic here....
Anyway I was watching the news the other morning before going to bed, and she was in the room. I have been trying to minimize my terse comments about the ignorant son of an economist(really!)with mixed results. She comment, reasonably that didn't it take a lot longer than 2 months for anything he did or plans to do impacts the economy. I allowed that generally that is so, but the stock market is forward valuing and non-partisan. It doesn't care at all about anything but whether or not the climate is good for making money. I don;t think I necessarily persuaded her, but I felt no urgency to do so, no did I feel like my ideas were dismissed. In short we just had an interesting discussion as I enjoy with anyone on the rare occasion that I am not so argumentative to wear me and the other person out.
It seemed at the time diagnostically significant that we could enjoy each other intellectually.
Couple of days behind...
I was thinking about my last post at work just after I posted it. I had in mind posting daily again, but having trouble getting here (the blog) from there (my phone) *
My wife and I attended a series of marriage building classes recently. Unfortunately she went alone to 3/4 of them, In my defense I had to work or sleep in preparation for work for most of the scheduled classes.
The instructor told of a time when he found a note of "10 reasons I love Mr. Instructor". I instantly realized that she was pissed off and was trying to talk herself into not throwing the bum out. As he continued the story he alluded to details that confirmed my hunch but that wasn't his point. He felt great reading that. (I, ever paranoid, would have felt horrible!)
I was thinking of doing something similar here but more about posting little positive things I like about being in this relationship. Not for her, but for me.
I have noticed something post-able each day but can't at the moment think of them. I gave up on the quiet dinner for two idea an instead used the ingredients for a hastily rushed nice dinner for all of us as I rushed out the door to work. I beamed a little at her praise at the meal. I am so needy! :) The next morning when I got home and she was still sleeping I made myself Mexican style steak and eggs with the left-overs reserving some chopped onions and steak for her for her omelet.
Although these things were done with her in mind a bit it wasn't the focus. I enjoy cooking and it brought me joy.
*I am unable to post from work because the Motorola Razor, while engineered well on the hardware side has the worst possible outdated software for web browsing.
My wife and I attended a series of marriage building classes recently. Unfortunately she went alone to 3/4 of them, In my defense I had to work or sleep in preparation for work for most of the scheduled classes.
The instructor told of a time when he found a note of "10 reasons I love Mr. Instructor". I instantly realized that she was pissed off and was trying to talk herself into not throwing the bum out. As he continued the story he alluded to details that confirmed my hunch but that wasn't his point. He felt great reading that. (I, ever paranoid, would have felt horrible!)
I was thinking of doing something similar here but more about posting little positive things I like about being in this relationship. Not for her, but for me.
I have noticed something post-able each day but can't at the moment think of them. I gave up on the quiet dinner for two idea an instead used the ingredients for a hastily rushed nice dinner for all of us as I rushed out the door to work. I beamed a little at her praise at the meal. I am so needy! :) The next morning when I got home and she was still sleeping I made myself Mexican style steak and eggs with the left-overs reserving some chopped onions and steak for her for her omelet.
Although these things were done with her in mind a bit it wasn't the focus. I enjoy cooking and it brought me joy.
*I am unable to post from work because the Motorola Razor, while engineered well on the hardware side has the worst possible outdated software for web browsing.
Monday, March 16, 2009
You can't get there from here....
A man (defying all stereotypes) stops by the side of the road and asks an old timer for directions.
Scratching his beard, deep in thought, he hesitates, then advises, "You can't get there from here." He goes on to explain that you have to come back the way you came and take a different route to get there...
Like that.
Two years ago in a delusional haze I now know of as a pink fog I had some interest in exploring some cross dressing feelings. My wife discovered some smoky, tacky, thrift-store clothes and decided I was having an affair, apparently with a nude woman with poor taste in clothes.
A long discussion, some timid explorations, bridges of trust built and over time one event and exploration then another and so on led to real intimacy, unfettered sexuality and this blog.
I don't really know where the apogee of these experiences was but I know the nadir. It was when hastily typed divorce papers in hand she announced a little smugly that she had been experimenting with me, sexually. That she had come to the "shocking" conclusion that if I hinted at sex and she "gave in" I seemed easier to get along with, less short, less critical. My, sex does all that? Imagine! Call the relationship experts.
OK, enough snark, I think. That wasn't the point of this post, nor the feeling I had prior to sitting down to type. That flavor is just some residual defensive pain as I think back to that time.
We separated, I crashed at a friends house for the longest period of separation of our entire married life together. I have my opinions about the causation, she agreed at least said so about some of them.
We reconciled. Even seemed to be making some progress back, then stalled like an airplane pulled out of a dive before enough airspeed is achieved.
Sex as I recall was a bit subdued but tender and sincere. Then something.
No idea what.
I am just sure I should know, but I don't. "If you have to ask....." is left unsaid.
My much to be envied position of husband to a marvelously inventive and enthusiastic nymphomaniac is no more.
She reports having no libido.
It is not unreasonable that there could be some medical and attendant hormonal challenges. It is the right time of life for such and there are symptoms and some pain so reticence is perfectly reasonable. A friendly cuddle would seem to be within the possible, but not the likely. She was never fond of even the classic post-coital cuddle. Yet another example of or respective cross-gender expectation wiring.
As I said, she reports that it is quite difficult to find herself in the mood.
I am of a mind to believe her.
Its been two and a half months since we shared any form of intimacy in the bed we share.
We are roommates. That is when my rotating shift puts me in that bed concurrent to her.
As I said to her when I pointed out the two month anniversary of our mutual celibacy, Its not the sex I miss. It is what it seems to imply. Abject rejection.
She always encouraged me to be more comfortable with masturbation. I have. It still feels as lonely as ever but I am much better at it with a shade less guilt than I used to. That's something.
I had a friend who suddenly stopped hearing from a girlfriend, a day stretched to several, then weeks, he finally cornered her. She reported that after a while it felt like an overdue library book that she was too embarrassed to return.
I consider making an approach regularly. Plan little dinners, little times together. Always it gets pushed aside. Part of me harbors churlish resentment. I feel its unfair that on only one occasion in nearly 18 years of marriage have I failed to rise to the occasion when she wanted sexual favors. Admittedly she asked for little that way being fairly self contained in her sexuality. Her time with me felt like a gift from her I think from both of our perspectives. I minded that not much, but still...
It isn't like she didn't seem to enjoy it. On an orgasm-for-orgasm basis, on a level of intensity scale, on any reasonable measure, she seems to have the upper hand when it comes to the benefits derived. In fact, all snarkish tone removed: she seems easier to get along with, less short, less critical when she has shared some connubial bliss.
I genuinely think that the (biological?) (divinely appointed?) (evolved?) reason that humans have sex for other than procreative reasons is it keeps papa wolf returning, eagerly, to the den. It gives mama wolf a reason to smile at his arrival. That it helps to smooth out the bumps inevitable in any relationship. That it mechanically joins bodies to join hearts.
We are both under a lot of stress. I have been a homeowner since I was 19 years old. Always 40 in my mind, my body has caught up. In a few days I will voluntarily or otherwise give up the last vestiges of my lifetime of real estate equity to the bank. In a positive vein for 1/2 of the 80K I am underwater in my once worth 1/3 of a million dollar city home, I am going to buy this double wide on an acre in a truly beautiful little valley. Still, stress is stress. even the good kind On my few oddly scheduled days off, I run back to the soon abandoned house and scavenge through a lifetime of possessions. I drag boxes and crates and hampers of stuff that she must labor to sort through the dust and the debris. A fire and a settlement would have been a lot cleaner and clearly more profitable.
I remember reading somewhere a long time ago something the details of which since forgotten, but the essentials remembered but not oft practiced. You can't wait until....fill in the blank. Could be until the finances are better, until the kids are in school, until until until...
The point was that happiness is a state of mind, takes effort and you need to just decide to be happy and do those things that bring happiness whether there is time for it or not. Whether you have the means or not. Whether you think time or conditions are right or not.
I want what we had.
I want to get there from HERE. Even if I have to find my way back to THERE first or whatever.
I read some true wife confessions tonight. Any number of the negative ones could well be speaking her mind. Likely as not one of them is. Doesn't matter which. I know which could apply and what changes need to occur for the wife who posted to feel some progress.
Would she believe my resolve? Likely not. Is it unreasonable that she would be skeptical of change? No, change is hard. Course correction is difficult with currents and faulty rudders being what they are.
Several were hopeful and upbeat telling of progress made, reconnections. I hope and yearn for one of these epitaphs.
Do I have a plan? Direction? A starting point? Nope.
Waking her up at 1:30 in the morning for a reluctant orgasm would seem ill advised.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Blog gender...
Not sure what this means.
These results from Gender Analyzer would have made perfect sense until my better half chose to remove her posts.
Now that it is my thoughts alone, trans issues aside it it's interestingly neutral.
These results from Gender Analyzer would have made perfect sense until my better half chose to remove her posts.
Now that it is my thoughts alone, trans issues aside it it's interestingly neutral.
We guess http://fullcontactmonogamy.blogspot.com/ is written by a man (54%), however it's quite gender neutral.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Pyromanaical Catharsis.
We live way out in the country. We are used to 2 big barrels for trash, two for recycling plus four green waste bins. We now get one that's smaller than any of the barrels we got in the city, and it costs more. We consider ourselves lucky that we are even in the service area at all.
The kids had me gather dozens of cardboard boxes for an ill-conceived then abandoned Halloween project. Now rain-warped with roles of masking tape peeling off, they had to go.
The previous tenant used to raise fighting cocks, so some chicken wire enclosures were available, and I have a lighter and well a vast understanding of all things involving conflagrations. (Misspent youth.)
I gathered them together, examined the wind direction, velocity and dry fields due east, and decided this was probably a bad idea. Most of my fires, historically have been bad ideas so this deterred me not at all. I judiciously got a hose stretched in range and had the water flowing to insure the shared well pump is actually on.
I could NOT get it to light with the wind. As a purist, I have always eschewed petroleum distillate-based accelerants in my arson activities, except for purely their entertainment value. I sent The Boy (9 ~ yeah I know I'm a horrible parent) into the house for paper.
He came out with a thick sheave. He said,"Mom said you'd enjoy burning these."
I grabbed the stack and as I glanced at the top I realized it was the divorce packet she had recently printed, and painstakingly hand printed in her carefully chosen responses.
My heart sunk a little at the remembrance of her in a moment of finally released, suppressed anger hauling them out of a drawer. I recognized of course the welcome symbolism of burning them however.
I read through them noting with approval her obvious desire to be fair, but still. Hard to imagine how exactly we got from A to X and back to say, B or C. Sobering.
They burned bright. I hope we do too.
The kids had me gather dozens of cardboard boxes for an ill-conceived then abandoned Halloween project. Now rain-warped with roles of masking tape peeling off, they had to go.
The previous tenant used to raise fighting cocks, so some chicken wire enclosures were available, and I have a lighter and well a vast understanding of all things involving conflagrations. (Misspent youth.)
I gathered them together, examined the wind direction, velocity and dry fields due east, and decided this was probably a bad idea. Most of my fires, historically have been bad ideas so this deterred me not at all. I judiciously got a hose stretched in range and had the water flowing to insure the shared well pump is actually on.
I could NOT get it to light with the wind. As a purist, I have always eschewed petroleum distillate-based accelerants in my arson activities, except for purely their entertainment value. I sent The Boy (9 ~ yeah I know I'm a horrible parent) into the house for paper.
He came out with a thick sheave. He said,"Mom said you'd enjoy burning these."
I grabbed the stack and as I glanced at the top I realized it was the divorce packet she had recently printed, and painstakingly hand printed in her carefully chosen responses.
My heart sunk a little at the remembrance of her in a moment of finally released, suppressed anger hauling them out of a drawer. I recognized of course the welcome symbolism of burning them however.
I read through them noting with approval her obvious desire to be fair, but still. Hard to imagine how exactly we got from A to X and back to say, B or C. Sobering.
They burned bright. I hope we do too.
Well, I remenbered, 'cause it was hot!
So she said when I sheepishly said that I had "forgot" (read repressed) the detail she mentioned I left out.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
What I can't write speaks volumes.
I have always (like nearly any red-blooded American male) enjoyed/encouraged/perved upon my wife's predilections towards the fairer sex. I mean it's just hot.
What's good for the goose, however, is NOT good for the gander.
Some time ago, my wife had a little fantasy involving my femme dressed up side. Ok, still hot. With another crossdresser, umm, well pushing it bit...
Her enthusiasm was infectious though. I-er-well, practiced a bit. I mean its not like I haven't had up close and personal "in depth" lessons on you know..~blush~ fellatio.
Another time she told me she had been awakened (aroused even!) by an erotic dream that compelled her to masturbate. Hot! A homo-erotic dream...er, hot? With me as the centerpiece...rapid hydraulic failure.
Still, there are times when she is thinking about such things. Like when I am fellating her aroused clit for example.
A couple of weeks ago, I stopped during the middle of one such event and reached into the drawer where I keep some crossdressing thing and pulled out the life-like vibe there. No, it wasn't mine and I had questioned her as to why it was there, and she explained she was just putting it up out of the way...
It isn't mine. Not coincidentally looks a lot like mine. She had purchased it years ago at an adult shop by herself while I waited in the car. She had endured the smirks and grins and the "testing it out to make sure it works." I found it quite flattering that she had chosen one with similar shape, coloring and vein-ature as mine. Most politic of her to select a six-incher to let me tower over it. (Ok my extra inch might not have intimidated Mr. Buzzy, but neither was I threatened by him!)
That night went well. Me demonstrating my furtively practiced skills. I, unlike her do have a gag reflex, but still. Both of us tonguing together on it conjured up all sorts of sights and textures and feelings. It was hot, but at the conclusion, spent, sated, I said, "Let's not speak of this again!" only half in jest.
A little aside:
I have to explain the unexplainable here. Why it is that I found from an early age crossdressing fascinating. Why it is that although this had a sexual component when I was pre-pubescent it is difficult to channel that place now.
Short version:
Repressed household, domineering mother, older sister with privilege and pretty things. Panties on were private, but laundry and folding of same were in no way women's work so handling them held no appeal, seeing them on was naughty. So when dressed there is a narcissistic suspension of my maleness in my mind and the ability to model and view and voyeur them as if I were seeing them on a girl..... I think.
As puberty approached I was still small in stature, slender, but my male bits didn't hide well to say the least especially proportionally speaking. Also I had all sorts of societal messages equating queer issues with gay issues, only recently realized as distinct. I mean if something seems gay, it must be. The very phrase "light in the loafers" and that stereotype seemed femme, when really what gay guy wants that? they like 'em butchy and beefy and strong. dunno.
So last night I was going down on my very female partner in a totally not gay way at all. I was slurping a way and took up some flesh in my mouth and saw what I perceived to be a look in her eye. I said something like, "you like me sucking it don't you?" or some such an allusion quickly understood to the other occasion we had agreed "Let's not speak of this again!"
Eventually she had me on my knees in a wig and a shaper slip, her against the wall being directive.
She spun a tale, slowly pushing my boundaries. At some point she had me noticing the bristles on the chin going down on me. Apparently (as I inquired about later) she was monitoring my arousal and "squick-ish-ness" using my flagging erection as a barometer. She quickly shifted gears to have me notice that it was in fact a girl in drab, wearing a fake cock, and we all lived hornily ever after.
Smart girl this one.
What's good for the goose, however, is NOT good for the gander.
Some time ago, my wife had a little fantasy involving my femme dressed up side. Ok, still hot. With another crossdresser, umm, well pushing it bit...
Her enthusiasm was infectious though. I-er-well, practiced a bit. I mean its not like I haven't had up close and personal "in depth" lessons on you know..~blush~ fellatio.
Another time she told me she had been awakened (aroused even!) by an erotic dream that compelled her to masturbate. Hot! A homo-erotic dream...er, hot? With me as the centerpiece...rapid hydraulic failure.
Still, there are times when she is thinking about such things. Like when I am fellating her aroused clit for example.
A couple of weeks ago, I stopped during the middle of one such event and reached into the drawer where I keep some crossdressing thing and pulled out the life-like vibe there. No, it wasn't mine and I had questioned her as to why it was there, and she explained she was just putting it up out of the way...
It isn't mine. Not coincidentally looks a lot like mine. She had purchased it years ago at an adult shop by herself while I waited in the car. She had endured the smirks and grins and the "testing it out to make sure it works." I found it quite flattering that she had chosen one with similar shape, coloring and vein-ature as mine. Most politic of her to select a six-incher to let me tower over it. (Ok my extra inch might not have intimidated Mr. Buzzy, but neither was I threatened by him!)
That night went well. Me demonstrating my furtively practiced skills. I, unlike her do have a gag reflex, but still. Both of us tonguing together on it conjured up all sorts of sights and textures and feelings. It was hot, but at the conclusion, spent, sated, I said, "Let's not speak of this again!" only half in jest.
A little aside:
I have to explain the unexplainable here. Why it is that I found from an early age crossdressing fascinating. Why it is that although this had a sexual component when I was pre-pubescent it is difficult to channel that place now.
Short version:
Repressed household, domineering mother, older sister with privilege and pretty things. Panties on were private, but laundry and folding of same were in no way women's work so handling them held no appeal, seeing them on was naughty. So when dressed there is a narcissistic suspension of my maleness in my mind and the ability to model and view and voyeur them as if I were seeing them on a girl..... I think.
As puberty approached I was still small in stature, slender, but my male bits didn't hide well to say the least especially proportionally speaking. Also I had all sorts of societal messages equating queer issues with gay issues, only recently realized as distinct. I mean if something seems gay, it must be. The very phrase "light in the loafers" and that stereotype seemed femme, when really what gay guy wants that? they like 'em butchy and beefy and strong. dunno.
So last night I was going down on my very female partner in a totally not gay way at all. I was slurping a way and took up some flesh in my mouth and saw what I perceived to be a look in her eye. I said something like, "you like me sucking it don't you?" or some such an allusion quickly understood to the other occasion we had agreed "Let's not speak of this again!"
Eventually she had me on my knees in a wig and a shaper slip, her against the wall being directive.
She spun a tale, slowly pushing my boundaries. At some point she had me noticing the bristles on the chin going down on me. Apparently (as I inquired about later) she was monitoring my arousal and "squick-ish-ness" using my flagging erection as a barometer. She quickly shifted gears to have me notice that it was in fact a girl in drab, wearing a fake cock, and we all lived hornily ever after.
Smart girl this one.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Hmmm, there seems to be a disparity here....
I took one of those quizzes. It produced the following button:
Powered By Sex Stores
In the text of the results it indicated that I was worth LESS than the average rate of ~merely~ $235/hour for such services. Even still, that is a bit more an hour than my present occupation...hmmm..
Hers though had no such reduction in the text:
Powered By Favorite Sex Toys
Apparently her button is accurate and mine is meant to protect my male pride.
Powered By Sex Stores
In the text of the results it indicated that I was worth LESS than the average rate of ~merely~ $235/hour for such services. Even still, that is a bit more an hour than my present occupation...hmmm..
Hers though had no such reduction in the text:
Powered By Favorite Sex Toys
Apparently her button is accurate and mine is meant to protect my male pride.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Boundaries and Seeking Validation. -The Geek
I have long known if not really acknowledged that most of my online activities have been an attempt for some external validation. This is not at all because loving support, praise and acceptance are in anyway lacking at home. Rather it is pathological, childhood rooted, and on balance, unhealthy.
About a year ago the conflict for my quest for this kind of validation and her unease with how I went about it was in a place where once again it could have come to a head. At that time we as a couple were in a pretty good place. Secure with each other and for us pretty open. She chose at that time to embark on a grand experiment in trust and openness. As she explained it it wasn't at all ever for her about the activity or the imagery or words but rather my need to be secretive. IN her words if I had simply said from the start, "Hey, I'm a grown-assed man and I'll do what I please on line!" that she wouldn't have that constant suspicious dread about where and with whom I forayed into the depths of online depravity. It was my constant promises that I'd abstain and then relapsed that struck co-dependent chords with her. By shifting her paradigm, she found that she (at the time) very much enjoyed sharing with me my virtual travels.
her words at the time:
During these heady times of such freedom and trust, I felt very open and honest and credited this blog and some of the other activity with bringing us closer. I think, in hindsight that I had that backwards. Only through our carefully cultivated closeness was we able to take such huge risks. Its much like couples that successfully negotiate the dangerous shoals of poly and casual multi-partner couplings. In only works for those that are very secure in their love for each other.
In the past year I moved away from home, and was only able to visit for a few days at a time roughly every two weeks. This is not a recipe for closeness. Absence does not in fact make the heart grow fonder. It makes living by oneself comfortable and sudden intrusions into established routines jars. We have moved back in together in quite cramped quarters with 4 of the 5 children and the re-adjustment has been brutal.
I get the impression that she has the impression that in my absence I have taken the license granted and gone on grand online adventures during the scant hours I am not working. I confess I tried mightily, but just as real life living breathing relationships need time and attention so do online friendships and more. I have been grossly unsuccessful in such pursuits, but not for lack of trying. IN fact my efforts to me have taken on an air of desperation and it shows I think.
The frenetic pace of the project that employs me has finally ceased defying economic gravity and has come to a screeching slowdown. Recently it was harder to get overtime and now overtime is abolished.
It is going to be catastrophic financially, but I am looking forward to the overtime now available in repairing our strained friendship.
About a year ago the conflict for my quest for this kind of validation and her unease with how I went about it was in a place where once again it could have come to a head. At that time we as a couple were in a pretty good place. Secure with each other and for us pretty open. She chose at that time to embark on a grand experiment in trust and openness. As she explained it it wasn't at all ever for her about the activity or the imagery or words but rather my need to be secretive. IN her words if I had simply said from the start, "Hey, I'm a grown-assed man and I'll do what I please on line!" that she wouldn't have that constant suspicious dread about where and with whom I forayed into the depths of online depravity. It was my constant promises that I'd abstain and then relapsed that struck co-dependent chords with her. By shifting her paradigm, she found that she (at the time) very much enjoyed sharing with me my virtual travels.
her words at the time:
"My hubby and I, while both enjoying great kinky sex with each other, have frequently found ourselves on different pages sexually. It was never that the sex wasn't good. It has always been good. But sometimes, being human has caused us to not communicate our desires to each other as well as we should. Or, more likely, it has caused us to not see and hear what the other is thinking and feeling. I think that is probably pretty common in long marriages.
Lately, we have been on the same page. Maybe even worse, we are turning those pages together and turning them awfully quickly. We are getting to chapters that we never thought to reach. This blog is one example.
Hubby has wanted me to post pictures/video/stories for some time. He has wanted me to join him in his internet sexploration. Because of interpersonal issues, I was leery of getting out in the great beyond with him. Today, as we blurfed the sex blogs, I smiled at him and asked him how long he had been waiting for me to do this with him.
"All of my life", he said.
I feel a little silly in hindsight. He was going to do it whether I was leery of going with him or not. So why not just join in and share this with him? Was I afraid of where we might go in the long run? About how far the kink would take us? Probably. And I probably still am. But, there is something inherently intimate in giving one's self up and allowing the possibilities to happen. It takes a level of trust that is almost frightening to give. By giving myself to him in this way, by sharing secret parts of ourselves without guilt or recrimination, we have reached a level of closeness and intimacy that we hadn't yet reached in our blankety-teen years of marriage. It's nice and very lovely...if such a word can be used to describe what we have been trying sexually.
So now, I am thinking to myself, if he has been waiting all his life for me to go down this path with him.....I, equally, have been waiting all my life for our marriage to achieve this closeness. In a contrary manner, I have been avoiding and running, and decrying, and blaming, and just generally bitching about the thing that would have brought me what I wanted all along.
(snip)
Because we love each other."
During these heady times of such freedom and trust, I felt very open and honest and credited this blog and some of the other activity with bringing us closer. I think, in hindsight that I had that backwards. Only through our carefully cultivated closeness was we able to take such huge risks. Its much like couples that successfully negotiate the dangerous shoals of poly and casual multi-partner couplings. In only works for those that are very secure in their love for each other.
In the past year I moved away from home, and was only able to visit for a few days at a time roughly every two weeks. This is not a recipe for closeness. Absence does not in fact make the heart grow fonder. It makes living by oneself comfortable and sudden intrusions into established routines jars. We have moved back in together in quite cramped quarters with 4 of the 5 children and the re-adjustment has been brutal.
I get the impression that she has the impression that in my absence I have taken the license granted and gone on grand online adventures during the scant hours I am not working. I confess I tried mightily, but just as real life living breathing relationships need time and attention so do online friendships and more. I have been grossly unsuccessful in such pursuits, but not for lack of trying. IN fact my efforts to me have taken on an air of desperation and it shows I think.
The frenetic pace of the project that employs me has finally ceased defying economic gravity and has come to a screeching slowdown. Recently it was harder to get overtime and now overtime is abolished.
It is going to be catastrophic financially, but I am looking forward to the overtime now available in repairing our strained friendship.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Six-pack. The Geek
No, not the abs.
Not "of beer".
Or soda.
Or the Dodge 440 with three two-barrel carbs.
This odd sculpture is somehow closer to the mark...
It is a sexual kink described by "A" of Stick & Giggle as "The Shocker" here or in the Urban Dictionary here.
We have accomplished this manuever on occaision, but this time it was a bit of a command performance.
She had gotten a good shave, and that of course prompted me to offer to check her results.
With my tongue.
Gliding up from ankle to inner thigh, then teasingly up and around, just missing the point of the exercise then back for a long, tender swipe up her slick slit.
As her petals opened, sweetly fragrant, I delved and turned and twisted and probed till I found the spot.
It for her is (discovered last year sometime) is actually south of her little nub and a little to the right if kneeling before her in ministration.
Finding, teasing, licking, nibbling as she was arching, writhing, cumming.
"I want you to six-pack me while you do that."
Never one to miss an opportunity for some graphically verbal stimulation, I asked her to describe exactly digit she wanted where, and how.
I suggested it would be more ergonomic if she, for example sat on my face as I did the bit of prestidigitation. She wanted me, though laying across her, pinning her, making her take it longer than she might otherwise be able to. We compromised into the shape of Bill and Ted's favorite number.
I managed the reverse of the conventional hold with a thumb in her quite slippery cunt and my index and middle finger in her ass.
The key to (relatively) comfortable anal lurve as AAG likes to call it is to enter gently then short movements that don;t actually cause the inserted finger/plug/cock to actually move relative to the tissue contacted, but rather just moves the entire assembly in and out as the ring of muscles maintains a firm grip, at least until the stimulation causes a hot, horny, creamy response.
Eventually I was pistoning in and out, to her delighted discomfort, lapping her juices and teasing her little ganglia of misplaced nerves with lips, teeth and tongue.
Meanwhile my awkwardly bent back cock was fucking her throat as I tried really hard to ignore how good that felt so as not to finish before I completed my anticipated around the world tour.
I pulled my head up and craned back around to mention, casually, that I intended to ream her ass with my cock next. I reminded her of "the rule" made up one time during that hot ass to mouth and back session we had in a shower one time. If one hole gets tired/sore/used up, I get to select another, at random.
I rotated 180 degrees, rotated her legs into the locked and upright position and eased my cock into her ass.
Fucking away, I growled at how eager I was for her to cry uncle there so I could go back to fucking her face.
"You like that don;t you?" she whispered..."Using me as you 'fuck toy'".....
"ULP!" I thought..(not that it stopped my insistent cock with a mind of its own from reaming her ass while my slipper thumb pressed her clit into her pubis...."This is exactly the sort of objectification that I had resolved to avoid to ensure she felt valued and humanized, as I stated just recently in a response to a readers comment.
Her continued aural assault of filthy talk soon had me spurting in only the first of the three holes on my itinerary.
Later I explained my discomfort with (at the moment) objectification of her given that we are currently in a bit of a honeymoon period after a very difficult time-out period in our relationship.
"You see?" she said with a knowing smile.."this is why men are programmed to roll over and go to sleep after getting off..you should try it sometime, you tend to over analyze the sex."
I protested I am just trying to recapture the things that make us connected.
"It felt very connected to me," she said "...connected with your cock to my ass!"
Not "of beer".
Or soda.
Or the Dodge 440 with three two-barrel carbs.
This odd sculpture is somehow closer to the mark...
It is a sexual kink described by "A" of Stick & Giggle as "The Shocker" here or in the Urban Dictionary here.
We have accomplished this manuever on occaision, but this time it was a bit of a command performance.
She had gotten a good shave, and that of course prompted me to offer to check her results.
With my tongue.
Gliding up from ankle to inner thigh, then teasingly up and around, just missing the point of the exercise then back for a long, tender swipe up her slick slit.
As her petals opened, sweetly fragrant, I delved and turned and twisted and probed till I found the spot.
It for her is (discovered last year sometime) is actually south of her little nub and a little to the right if kneeling before her in ministration.
Finding, teasing, licking, nibbling as she was arching, writhing, cumming.
"I want you to six-pack me while you do that."
Never one to miss an opportunity for some graphically verbal stimulation, I asked her to describe exactly digit she wanted where, and how.
I suggested it would be more ergonomic if she, for example sat on my face as I did the bit of prestidigitation. She wanted me, though laying across her, pinning her, making her take it longer than she might otherwise be able to. We compromised into the shape of Bill and Ted's favorite number.
I managed the reverse of the conventional hold with a thumb in her quite slippery cunt and my index and middle finger in her ass.
The key to (relatively) comfortable anal lurve as AAG likes to call it is to enter gently then short movements that don;t actually cause the inserted finger/plug/cock to actually move relative to the tissue contacted, but rather just moves the entire assembly in and out as the ring of muscles maintains a firm grip, at least until the stimulation causes a hot, horny, creamy response.
Eventually I was pistoning in and out, to her delighted discomfort, lapping her juices and teasing her little ganglia of misplaced nerves with lips, teeth and tongue.
Meanwhile my awkwardly bent back cock was fucking her throat as I tried really hard to ignore how good that felt so as not to finish before I completed my anticipated around the world tour.
I pulled my head up and craned back around to mention, casually, that I intended to ream her ass with my cock next. I reminded her of "the rule" made up one time during that hot ass to mouth and back session we had in a shower one time. If one hole gets tired/sore/used up, I get to select another, at random.
I rotated 180 degrees, rotated her legs into the locked and upright position and eased my cock into her ass.
Fucking away, I growled at how eager I was for her to cry uncle there so I could go back to fucking her face.
"You like that don;t you?" she whispered..."Using me as you 'fuck toy'".....
"ULP!" I thought..(not that it stopped my insistent cock with a mind of its own from reaming her ass while my slipper thumb pressed her clit into her pubis...."This is exactly the sort of objectification that I had resolved to avoid to ensure she felt valued and humanized, as I stated just recently in a response to a readers comment.
Her continued aural assault of filthy talk soon had me spurting in only the first of the three holes on my itinerary.
Later I explained my discomfort with (at the moment) objectification of her given that we are currently in a bit of a honeymoon period after a very difficult time-out period in our relationship.
"You see?" she said with a knowing smile.."this is why men are programmed to roll over and go to sleep after getting off..you should try it sometime, you tend to over analyze the sex."
I protested I am just trying to recapture the things that make us connected.
"It felt very connected to me," she said "...connected with your cock to my ass!"
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Fantasy-vs-Reality Based Sex - The Wife
Hubby and I approach sex differently, specifically masturbation, but encompassing all sexual endeavors. I lose myself in the physical sensations. It feels so good, that nothing else is needed to help me reach a climax. Hubby relies on fantasy to help him along. Well, last night, hubby tried to convince me that fantasy is better.
Hubby began as posted here with his fingers. He brought me to two (or was it three?) orgasms with his fingers before I had even gotten in the shower. When our showers were over and we got down to business, he quickly finished off the rest of the finger job.
Now, on to the tongue. Hubby was feeling a little Dom though, so there were some conditions to my tongue lashing. With each orgasm, I was required to call out a different name, and picture that person doing the actual tonguing. It was fun, but at the crucial moment.....all visions of whomever between my legs vanished. I was back to riding the waves of sensation. I just CAN'T get off to fantasy. It has to be real for me.
This doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy the fantasy. It just means that when it's time for the actual orgasm, I need to be there and feeling all of the physical sensations. If I am distracted by thoughts in my head, even erotic thoughts, my orgasm will not be as intense. So, I think I will stick with my method. It's been working for me for some 30 years or so now.
But, Hubby did do something different this time, and it blew my mind. Orgasm denial. What sick twisted SOB thought this shit up? OK, maybe I doth protest too much. It was cruel to be lying there as he fucked me, close to cumming, needing to cum, begging to PLEASE LET ME CUM!!!!!!!! When he finally decided to allow me to orgasm, he pulled his cock out of me and immediately replaced it with his tongue. I came in an explosion of spasms and moans. It was incredible. Do I want to do it again? Probably. But, don't tell Hubby! He's always been jealous of my ability to get off. Using this technique on me is the perfect revenge!
Hubby began as posted here with his fingers. He brought me to two (or was it three?) orgasms with his fingers before I had even gotten in the shower. When our showers were over and we got down to business, he quickly finished off the rest of the finger job.
Now, on to the tongue. Hubby was feeling a little Dom though, so there were some conditions to my tongue lashing. With each orgasm, I was required to call out a different name, and picture that person doing the actual tonguing. It was fun, but at the crucial moment.....all visions of whomever between my legs vanished. I was back to riding the waves of sensation. I just CAN'T get off to fantasy. It has to be real for me.
This doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy the fantasy. It just means that when it's time for the actual orgasm, I need to be there and feeling all of the physical sensations. If I am distracted by thoughts in my head, even erotic thoughts, my orgasm will not be as intense. So, I think I will stick with my method. It's been working for me for some 30 years or so now.
But, Hubby did do something different this time, and it blew my mind. Orgasm denial. What sick twisted SOB thought this shit up? OK, maybe I doth protest too much. It was cruel to be lying there as he fucked me, close to cumming, needing to cum, begging to PLEASE LET ME CUM!!!!!!!! When he finally decided to allow me to orgasm, he pulled his cock out of me and immediately replaced it with his tongue. I came in an explosion of spasms and moans. It was incredible. Do I want to do it again? Probably. But, don't tell Hubby! He's always been jealous of my ability to get off. Using this technique on me is the perfect revenge!
With the Lights Out - The Wife
After many years of preferring the dark, due to my being overweight, we have gotten back into the habit of keeping the lights on during intimate moments. Sometimes we use candles. Sometimes the closet light is left on. And sometimes, we do it with all the lights in the bedroom on.
But last night, the Hubby turned off all lights before joining me in bed. He slowly worked his way through our messy clothing strewn bedroom to the bed. And then he slowly worked his way into bed with me. We proceeded to the sex part, but started with some good old fashioned kissing.
The kissing led to touching, which led to more touching, which led to touching of VERY intimate nature. And I enjoyed it. But.......I missed having the lights on. I couldn't see Hubby's reactions, which are very important to me. I kept having to worry about bumping into something or kicking a tender spot, or getting an elbow in the way. It was too complex. It was too much to worry about.
I need light.
Therefore, I have to say that Kurt was right. With the lights out, yes it's dangerous. Leave those lights on so that I can have sex without worrying about what I might smash into!
But last night, the Hubby turned off all lights before joining me in bed. He slowly worked his way through our messy clothing strewn bedroom to the bed. And then he slowly worked his way into bed with me. We proceeded to the sex part, but started with some good old fashioned kissing.
The kissing led to touching, which led to more touching, which led to touching of VERY intimate nature. And I enjoyed it. But.......I missed having the lights on. I couldn't see Hubby's reactions, which are very important to me. I kept having to worry about bumping into something or kicking a tender spot, or getting an elbow in the way. It was too complex. It was too much to worry about.
I need light.
Therefore, I have to say that Kurt was right. With the lights out, yes it's dangerous. Leave those lights on so that I can have sex without worrying about what I might smash into!
Marathons - The Wife
Ask and ye shall receive.
And Oh my my my, did I EVER receive. Knowing of my desire for a marathon cunnilingus session, my husband decided to make my desire come true. We got the little one to sleep, in her own room for a change, so that we could have some privacy. I jumped into the shower to soap and and shave up.
(an aside....I think it's only polite to get one's pussy well shaved ((I am terrified of waxing)) if one wishes to be licked and sucked by one's partner.)
So, off I went to do my ablutions. Hubby decided to join me in the shower. Now, let me say, I love shower sex, after I am DONE with the shower. Hubby has an inability to keep his cock to himself in the shower. Have you ever tried to shave when there is a hard on pressing against your pussy from behind? So, when hubby joined me in the shower, I was concerned that he would be impatient with my desire to finish my shower first. Interestingly, he was in a softer frame of mind, and left me alone for the most part. Because he kept his roving penis to himself, he watched me.....for the very first time in our many many many years of marriage, shave my pussy. It didn't seem to have a huge impact on him, however, I do believe that I will have him do it for me sometime.
We left the shower, all clean and ready for the night. I laid down on the bed with my legs spread and my pussy easily accessible. Hubby, knelt between my legs, and proceeded to perform oral sex on me in the most delightful way. He was so tender and worshipful of my pussy, that I actually forgot he was a man!!! Yes, I know....most men would read this and think "OUCH, that's HARSH". Well, actually, NO. You see, I had a very hard time with cunnilingus at first. I certainly enjoyed it, but I could never get over my feeling that I needed to be doing something in return. I mean, honestly....isn't that what my mouth was designed for? Hot, wet, fellatio....
So, by seeing him sans penis in my mind, I was finally able to completely give myself over to the sensations. I didn't have the driving need to do my duty floating around in my mind. And it was heavenly. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled. He took me to places I had never been with oral sex. (And I have always gotten off on being eaten out). I whimpered. I moaned. The only thing keeping me from screaming was my fear that I would rouse all of the children. My orgasm's were so intense that one blended into the next. I felt like I was floating in a river of molten lava.
(Damn...I am sounding like a romance novelist with my ethereal descriptions of my orgasm. Heaven forbid that I start referring to my cunt as a "hot honey oven")
And so, after bringing me to ecstasy, my hubby finally raised up from my pussy, and entered my cunt with his cock. My first penetration orgasm of the night was like the whipped cream on our fuck sundae. I proceeded to have two more as he pounded away at me with his massive hard-on. And, as he finished cumming in me, he did something that blew me away.
He went back down to my pussy with his mouth, sucked out his cum, and brought it back to my mouth.
OMFG!!!!!!! I came just from the taste. It was such an incredibly erotic and intimate thing to do!!! I LOVED it!!!! I licked and sucked at his tongue to get every drop off!! I love the taste of his cum. I love the taste of my pussy. Put the two together and it's two treats in one. Most men shy away from the taste of their own cream. That he would do this was so unexpected and felt so kinky. But at the same time, so loving and sharing. (hehehehe....now that is sharing!!!) How do I go about asking him to do that again??? I guess the direct approach will be best....
DO IT AGAIN!!!
Today was a continuation of the adoration of my pussy, but that post will have to come later. It's late. I'm tired. I think I need to take a seat.
On his face.
And Oh my my my, did I EVER receive. Knowing of my desire for a marathon cunnilingus session, my husband decided to make my desire come true. We got the little one to sleep, in her own room for a change, so that we could have some privacy. I jumped into the shower to soap and and shave up.
(an aside....I think it's only polite to get one's pussy well shaved ((I am terrified of waxing)) if one wishes to be licked and sucked by one's partner.)
So, off I went to do my ablutions. Hubby decided to join me in the shower. Now, let me say, I love shower sex, after I am DONE with the shower. Hubby has an inability to keep his cock to himself in the shower. Have you ever tried to shave when there is a hard on pressing against your pussy from behind? So, when hubby joined me in the shower, I was concerned that he would be impatient with my desire to finish my shower first. Interestingly, he was in a softer frame of mind, and left me alone for the most part. Because he kept his roving penis to himself, he watched me.....for the very first time in our many many many years of marriage, shave my pussy. It didn't seem to have a huge impact on him, however, I do believe that I will have him do it for me sometime.
We left the shower, all clean and ready for the night. I laid down on the bed with my legs spread and my pussy easily accessible. Hubby, knelt between my legs, and proceeded to perform oral sex on me in the most delightful way. He was so tender and worshipful of my pussy, that I actually forgot he was a man!!! Yes, I know....most men would read this and think "OUCH, that's HARSH". Well, actually, NO. You see, I had a very hard time with cunnilingus at first. I certainly enjoyed it, but I could never get over my feeling that I needed to be doing something in return. I mean, honestly....isn't that what my mouth was designed for? Hot, wet, fellatio....
So, by seeing him sans penis in my mind, I was finally able to completely give myself over to the sensations. I didn't have the driving need to do my duty floating around in my mind. And it was heavenly. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled. He took me to places I had never been with oral sex. (And I have always gotten off on being eaten out). I whimpered. I moaned. The only thing keeping me from screaming was my fear that I would rouse all of the children. My orgasm's were so intense that one blended into the next. I felt like I was floating in a river of molten lava.
(Damn...I am sounding like a romance novelist with my ethereal descriptions of my orgasm. Heaven forbid that I start referring to my cunt as a "hot honey oven")
And so, after bringing me to ecstasy, my hubby finally raised up from my pussy, and entered my cunt with his cock. My first penetration orgasm of the night was like the whipped cream on our fuck sundae. I proceeded to have two more as he pounded away at me with his massive hard-on. And, as he finished cumming in me, he did something that blew me away.
He went back down to my pussy with his mouth, sucked out his cum, and brought it back to my mouth.
OMFG!!!!!!! I came just from the taste. It was such an incredibly erotic and intimate thing to do!!! I LOVED it!!!! I licked and sucked at his tongue to get every drop off!! I love the taste of his cum. I love the taste of my pussy. Put the two together and it's two treats in one. Most men shy away from the taste of their own cream. That he would do this was so unexpected and felt so kinky. But at the same time, so loving and sharing. (hehehehe....now that is sharing!!!) How do I go about asking him to do that again??? I guess the direct approach will be best....
DO IT AGAIN!!!
Today was a continuation of the adoration of my pussy, but that post will have to come later. It's late. I'm tired. I think I need to take a seat.
On his face.
Will Dom for Cleanliness and Cunnilingus - The Wife
Hubby is right. I just don't do the whole "Dominatrix" thing very well. In spite of my being fairly kinky and sexually adventurous, I am at heart a very shy and quiet person. I prefer to fade into the background at gathering. I don't draw attention to myself. And being dominant in any way is at odds with who I am and with my personality.
The few times in the past that the hubby had suggested that I might enjoy being a switch, I chose to pass on the opportunity. With one exception, which was noted here, I preferred to be spanked over spanking. And my one attempt at being the spankee, while being interesting, wasn't what either of us was really looking forward too.
Fast forward to yesterday, when hubby was my bitch. How on earth was I going to dominate him? Especially long distance. With a little creativity, and my cell phone, I persevered.
At first, I had him doing menial things while I was gone. I tried being forceful and degrading, but it just wasn't going to work. I changed my tactics. I became more of a mother giving instruction to a beloved but recalcitrant child. Efforts were rewarded. Failings were gently but firmly corrected with clear instruction on how to do better the next time.
At first, I had hubby watching cunnilingus porn. I called him to get updates on what he had learned.....a kind of oral progress report so to speak. He hadn't had much luck finding good cunnilingus porn online (yeah.......right!!!) In fairness, he did skip some of his planned viewing time to do some housework. I chose under the circumstances to let it slide.
I directed him in stroking himself. Up and down his hard shaft. Gently but firmly rubbing the throbbing instrument of my delight (there goes the romance novelist again). I commanded him to rub the precum from his cock, and place it on his tongue....with plans to suck his tongue during my lunch break.
I described a scene from the book Scruples, a book I read at the tender age of thirteen and which was wholly inappropriate for someone of my then tender years. Lots of hot sex. LOTS of hot sex. Anyway, there was a scene in which Spider is performing cunnilingus as Melanie's sex slave (I think I remember the names right. I can give details on the sex, but the name's might fail me). In it, he may not penetrate her. He works her wet flesh for a long time, all the while rubbing his cock against the sheet, until they cum. Her in his mouth, he on the sheets. I wanted hubby to perform this for me.
Well, the best laid plans of mice and men......and horny housewives.......I got home for lunch. The shower was wonderful. Lunch was delicious. Towel was clean and warm, so was my robe. And after all that, we had exactly ten minutes for cunnilingus before I had return to work.
DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, I got ten minutes of pussy eating. He almost, but not quite, rubbed one off on the sheets. And I learned that I can be a switch. Just not in the "traditional sense"
The few times in the past that the hubby had suggested that I might enjoy being a switch, I chose to pass on the opportunity. With one exception, which was noted here, I preferred to be spanked over spanking. And my one attempt at being the spankee, while being interesting, wasn't what either of us was really looking forward too.
Fast forward to yesterday, when hubby was my bitch. How on earth was I going to dominate him? Especially long distance. With a little creativity, and my cell phone, I persevered.
At first, I had him doing menial things while I was gone. I tried being forceful and degrading, but it just wasn't going to work. I changed my tactics. I became more of a mother giving instruction to a beloved but recalcitrant child. Efforts were rewarded. Failings were gently but firmly corrected with clear instruction on how to do better the next time.
At first, I had hubby watching cunnilingus porn. I called him to get updates on what he had learned.....a kind of oral progress report so to speak. He hadn't had much luck finding good cunnilingus porn online (yeah.......right!!!) In fairness, he did skip some of his planned viewing time to do some housework. I chose under the circumstances to let it slide.
I directed him in stroking himself. Up and down his hard shaft. Gently but firmly rubbing the throbbing instrument of my delight (there goes the romance novelist again). I commanded him to rub the precum from his cock, and place it on his tongue....with plans to suck his tongue during my lunch break.
I described a scene from the book Scruples, a book I read at the tender age of thirteen and which was wholly inappropriate for someone of my then tender years. Lots of hot sex. LOTS of hot sex. Anyway, there was a scene in which Spider is performing cunnilingus as Melanie's sex slave (I think I remember the names right. I can give details on the sex, but the name's might fail me). In it, he may not penetrate her. He works her wet flesh for a long time, all the while rubbing his cock against the sheet, until they cum. Her in his mouth, he on the sheets. I wanted hubby to perform this for me.
Well, the best laid plans of mice and men......and horny housewives.......I got home for lunch. The shower was wonderful. Lunch was delicious. Towel was clean and warm, so was my robe. And after all that, we had exactly ten minutes for cunnilingus before I had return to work.
DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, I got ten minutes of pussy eating. He almost, but not quite, rubbed one off on the sheets. And I learned that I can be a switch. Just not in the "traditional sense"
Shhhhhh! I'm Oh SO Sleepy - The Wife
I am sleepy tonight. The hubby was busy chatting online and all I heard was typa typa typa. We are both too tired even for sex.
The horrors!!!! Too tired for SEX!!!
hmmmmmm. Maybe a nap and then a poke
The horrors!!!! Too tired for SEX!!!
hmmmmmm. Maybe a nap and then a poke
Pussy Worship - The Wife
I am borrowing the title for this post from a forum thread I read recently. You see, I have always had a love/hate relationship with my pussy. In early adolescence, I started touching myself. A lot. A WHOLE LOT. Why not? It felt good. But there was a part of me that felt naughty for doing it. When I went through puberty, what had previously looked like an unopened flower....bloomed. And I HATED it!!! I was convinced that I had, by touching myself, stretched everything out. I just knew that any man who ever looked at my pussy would see what a dirty bad and naughty little girl I had been. And so I hated my pussy. But, I still loved the touch of my own hand. I spent time under the covers, stroking and rubbing. Sometimes even penetrating myself. It felt so wonderful and was such a relief sometimes. And so I loved my pussy.
One of the things I hated/loved most about my pussy was my clit. It always seemed inordinately prominent to my eyes. Like a glowing red beacon.
[Photo] I compared myself to the softly airbrushed pornography from my Dad's "not as well hidden as he thought" magazines, and I felt I was misshapen. What I didn't realize then, was that my seemingly enormous clit was also enormously sensitive. One or two flicks with a tongue or fingertip and I cum all over myself. I am so sensitive there, that I wowed my husband the other day by bringing myself to orgasm simply by rubbing my legs together. Twice. In less than a minute. ....in jeans no less.
Seriously.....
And so, in spite of my perceived failings in the area of clitoral beauty, I love my pussy for being the cum machine that it is.
Now, in my younger years, I shaved the area before porn stars were doing it. I've just never been a fan of the "lady garden" so to speak. It just doesn't feel clean to leave that on. I shaved the first time, when I first saw growth. My mother explained that it's ok to have hair and that I was going through some changes into womanhood. So I left it on. Until I turned 18, then OFF it went. With a few breaks because I wasn't sure how a shaved pussy would be received (not a problem in this day and age), I kept myself denuded. Occasionally, I would get the random compliment on my pussy. Since I was so certain I wasn't very attractive though, I took that as nothing more than pillow talk. Odd pillow talk, but pillow talk nonetheless.
Fast forward to now. Hubby loves my pussy. REALLY REALLY loves it (think Sally Field's Oscar Speech here). He spends a lot of time there, as mentioned before. Even overcoming my difficulty allowing myself to lay there without reciprocating. I have learned to trust that he truly likes the way I look there. But, did he love my pussy because he had to, or because it was truly worth worshipping?
Actions speak louder than words, and Hubby's most recent forays "down under" have confirmed for me that it's the pussy and not obligation. The worshipful way in which he nibbles, and licks, and sucks have sent me to levels of orgasm not previously felt. No man goes to that kind of effort out of a sense of obligation. NO man!
[Photo]
But, what of others? Would they feel the same way about my pussy with it's enormous clit and very full mons? Some complimentary comments posted about pictures of my pussy that I had placed on an online forum actually have me feeling pretty damned good about my pussy lately. I am feeling incredibly sexy and desirable in an area in which I had always felt a little over adequate (and therefore inadequate as a result).
Today, I love my pussy.
One of the things I hated/loved most about my pussy was my clit. It always seemed inordinately prominent to my eyes. Like a glowing red beacon.
[Photo] I compared myself to the softly airbrushed pornography from my Dad's "not as well hidden as he thought" magazines, and I felt I was misshapen. What I didn't realize then, was that my seemingly enormous clit was also enormously sensitive. One or two flicks with a tongue or fingertip and I cum all over myself. I am so sensitive there, that I wowed my husband the other day by bringing myself to orgasm simply by rubbing my legs together. Twice. In less than a minute. ....in jeans no less.
Seriously.....
And so, in spite of my perceived failings in the area of clitoral beauty, I love my pussy for being the cum machine that it is.
Now, in my younger years, I shaved the area before porn stars were doing it. I've just never been a fan of the "lady garden" so to speak. It just doesn't feel clean to leave that on. I shaved the first time, when I first saw growth. My mother explained that it's ok to have hair and that I was going through some changes into womanhood. So I left it on. Until I turned 18, then OFF it went. With a few breaks because I wasn't sure how a shaved pussy would be received (not a problem in this day and age), I kept myself denuded. Occasionally, I would get the random compliment on my pussy. Since I was so certain I wasn't very attractive though, I took that as nothing more than pillow talk. Odd pillow talk, but pillow talk nonetheless.
Fast forward to now. Hubby loves my pussy. REALLY REALLY loves it (think Sally Field's Oscar Speech here). He spends a lot of time there, as mentioned before. Even overcoming my difficulty allowing myself to lay there without reciprocating. I have learned to trust that he truly likes the way I look there. But, did he love my pussy because he had to, or because it was truly worth worshipping?
Actions speak louder than words, and Hubby's most recent forays "down under" have confirmed for me that it's the pussy and not obligation. The worshipful way in which he nibbles, and licks, and sucks have sent me to levels of orgasm not previously felt. No man goes to that kind of effort out of a sense of obligation. NO man!
[Photo]
But, what of others? Would they feel the same way about my pussy with it's enormous clit and very full mons? Some complimentary comments posted about pictures of my pussy that I had placed on an online forum actually have me feeling pretty damned good about my pussy lately. I am feeling incredibly sexy and desirable in an area in which I had always felt a little over adequate (and therefore inadequate as a result).
Today, I love my pussy.
How Many Years? - The Wife
My hubby and I, while both enjoying great kinky sex with each other, have frequently found ourselves on different pages sexually. It was never that the sex wasn't good. It has always been good. But sometimes, being human has caused us to not communicate our desires to each other as well as we should. Or, more likely, it has caused us to not see and hear what the other is thinking and feeling. I think that is probably pretty common in long marriages.
Lately, we have been on the same page. Maybe even worse, we are turning those pages together and turning them awfully quickly. We are getting to chapters that we never thought to reach. This blog is one example.
Hubby has wanted me to post pictures/video/stories for some time. He has wanted me to join him in his internet sexploration. Because of interpersonal issues, I was leery of getting out in the great beyond with him. Today, as we blurfed the sex blogs, I smiled at him and asked him how long he had been waiting for me to do this with him.
"All of my life", he said.
I feel a little silly in hindsight. He was going to do it whether I was leery of going with him or not. So why not just join in and share this with him? Was I afraid of where we might go in the long run? About how far the kink would take us? Probably. And I probably still am. But, there is something inherently intimate in giving one's self up and allowing the possibilities to happen. It takes a level of trust that is almost frightening to give. By giving myself to him in this way, by sharing secret parts of ourselves without guilt or recrimination, we have reached a level of closeness and intimacy that we hadn't yet reached in our blankety-teen years of marriage. It's nice and very lovely...if such a word can be used to describe what we have been trying sexually.
So now, I am thinking to myself, if he has been waiting all his life for me to go down this path with him.....I, equally, have been waiting all my life for our marriage to achieve this closeness. In a contrary manner, I have been avoiding and running, and decrying, and blaming, and just generally bitching about the thing that would have brought me what I wanted all along.
That said......we had wonderful sex this afternoon. My ass presented like a bitch in heat. Him fucking me hard and painfully. He spanked me until I lost count. My ass was on fire and I wanted more. Tonight, when children are abed and the lights are out, I am going to have him give me a marathon spanking session.
Because we love each other.
Lately, we have been on the same page. Maybe even worse, we are turning those pages together and turning them awfully quickly. We are getting to chapters that we never thought to reach. This blog is one example.
Hubby has wanted me to post pictures/video/stories for some time. He has wanted me to join him in his internet sexploration. Because of interpersonal issues, I was leery of getting out in the great beyond with him. Today, as we blurfed the sex blogs, I smiled at him and asked him how long he had been waiting for me to do this with him.
"All of my life", he said.
I feel a little silly in hindsight. He was going to do it whether I was leery of going with him or not. So why not just join in and share this with him? Was I afraid of where we might go in the long run? About how far the kink would take us? Probably. And I probably still am. But, there is something inherently intimate in giving one's self up and allowing the possibilities to happen. It takes a level of trust that is almost frightening to give. By giving myself to him in this way, by sharing secret parts of ourselves without guilt or recrimination, we have reached a level of closeness and intimacy that we hadn't yet reached in our blankety-teen years of marriage. It's nice and very lovely...if such a word can be used to describe what we have been trying sexually.
So now, I am thinking to myself, if he has been waiting all his life for me to go down this path with him.....I, equally, have been waiting all my life for our marriage to achieve this closeness. In a contrary manner, I have been avoiding and running, and decrying, and blaming, and just generally bitching about the thing that would have brought me what I wanted all along.
That said......we had wonderful sex this afternoon. My ass presented like a bitch in heat. Him fucking me hard and painfully. He spanked me until I lost count. My ass was on fire and I wanted more. Tonight, when children are abed and the lights are out, I am going to have him give me a marathon spanking session.
Because we love each other.
Bread and Soup and Sleepless Toddlers - the Wife
Hubby and I had a discussion today, concerning his propensity to like the same thing....over and over and over until he is sick of it. He does this in many aspects of life. Example: when he makes a lasagna, he is content to eat only lasagna until the entire pan is finished. Lasagna for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He mentioned trying harder to add a little turkey tetrazzini as a change of pace. He tends to do this sexually too. If it feels good, keep doing it. Keep trying to recapture that feeling, but better.
That just never works.
I gently suggested that, sometimes after having had spicy complex meals, a little bread and soup is nice too. It doesn't always have to be spicy.
So tonight, we tried a little bread and soup.
We started off with some nice kissing. Lots of smiling and loving touches. He was rubbing my pussy through my panties in just such a way that felt good and vaguely reminiscent of gropes in the backseats of cars that I remember fondly from my youth. And then, in spite of the VERY late hour....the toddler woke up.
Pat pat pat, try to get the toddler back to sleep. She drifts. We try again. This time, he very lovingly and tenderly begins to lick my pussy. I made sure to get an extra close shave in hopes that hubby would be going down on me tonight. His hot wet tongue just seemed to draw the cream out of me. Then, he began to finger fuck me. He worked against my g-spot and had me writhing on the bed. And then, in spite of having been recently patted back to sleep....yes, the toddler woke up again.
This time, hubby patted her back to sleep. And when he was done, I saw his sexy ass lying there just begging to be kissed. And licked. And so I did. It was his turn to writhe on the bed while I rimmed his ass with my tongue. Again, keeping it very gentle and tender. He pressed upward toward my mouth while I lovingly ministered to his quivering flesh. And then, in spite of it being even later than before, and in spite of having once again been patted to sleep...yes, the @#$!! toddler woke up again.
My turn to pat. And so I did. Got her back to sleep. By this time, hubby was barely at 1/4 mast. And all thoughts of gentle tenderness were shot to Hell. It was time for the kink. Hubby began some of the most deviant and perverse dirty talk we have ever engaged in. Aroused beyond measure and dripping wet from the filth pouring from his mouth, I eagerly joined in......begging him to degrade me in ways that are probably illegal in some countries. This dirty talk raised him from 1/4 mast to rock hard as he fucked my wet and willing hole. It was enough....yes just enough...to push him over the edge as he came violently into me.
So, here we are....done for the night. And yes......the toddler is awake with us. I have given up for the night.
That just never works.
I gently suggested that, sometimes after having had spicy complex meals, a little bread and soup is nice too. It doesn't always have to be spicy.
So tonight, we tried a little bread and soup.
We started off with some nice kissing. Lots of smiling and loving touches. He was rubbing my pussy through my panties in just such a way that felt good and vaguely reminiscent of gropes in the backseats of cars that I remember fondly from my youth. And then, in spite of the VERY late hour....the toddler woke up.
Pat pat pat, try to get the toddler back to sleep. She drifts. We try again. This time, he very lovingly and tenderly begins to lick my pussy. I made sure to get an extra close shave in hopes that hubby would be going down on me tonight. His hot wet tongue just seemed to draw the cream out of me. Then, he began to finger fuck me. He worked against my g-spot and had me writhing on the bed. And then, in spite of having been recently patted back to sleep....yes, the toddler woke up again.
This time, hubby patted her back to sleep. And when he was done, I saw his sexy ass lying there just begging to be kissed. And licked. And so I did. It was his turn to writhe on the bed while I rimmed his ass with my tongue. Again, keeping it very gentle and tender. He pressed upward toward my mouth while I lovingly ministered to his quivering flesh. And then, in spite of it being even later than before, and in spite of having once again been patted to sleep...yes, the @#$!! toddler woke up again.
My turn to pat. And so I did. Got her back to sleep. By this time, hubby was barely at 1/4 mast. And all thoughts of gentle tenderness were shot to Hell. It was time for the kink. Hubby began some of the most deviant and perverse dirty talk we have ever engaged in. Aroused beyond measure and dripping wet from the filth pouring from his mouth, I eagerly joined in......begging him to degrade me in ways that are probably illegal in some countries. This dirty talk raised him from 1/4 mast to rock hard as he fucked my wet and willing hole. It was enough....yes just enough...to push him over the edge as he came violently into me.
So, here we are....done for the night. And yes......the toddler is awake with us. I have given up for the night.
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