15 January 2007

Saturday Night's Theme: "NOW."

"I'm so glad you have a penis," she said as we were turning off the lights and going to bed.

I chuckled, quietly, so as not to wake any little ones up. It was 2 a.m., and after the night we had just had, the last thing we needed was to have to get anyone back asleep. I groped in my head for the meaning of Amy's words: Did she mean she's glad I wasn't a woman? That it's nice to have a man around who can do the "man" things?

So, without another option, I responded with a vague, "Oh, you do, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, starting down the hall to our bedroom. "I really needed a penis tonight."

Technically true, but not really the way she felt emotionally. Tonight, what my wife needed was a cock.


The evening hadn't started out looking particularly promising, sexually speaking. During dinner, in a quick moment alone in the kitchen, I had asked Amy if she had some fun in mind for later. Asking this sort of question has become more typical in the last year or so. There have been many nights where signals were crossed and a misunderstanding has ruined the evening. (More on that in a later post.) It's probably less romantic to essentially ask, So ... We gonna fuck or what? But in the long run, we've found that a little clarification makes everyone happier.

Amy indicated that she was, in fact, thinking about that, but everything would depend on how she felt after getting kids to bed. This activity often does her in. The kids are young enough that the bedtime routines are deliberate and exhausting. Often, by the time the last parent (usually Amy) emerges from the last bedroom, even a big cup of tea won't save her.

It looked like this was going to be the case on this night as I read books in bed to our oldest while Amy lay on the other side, eyes closed, seemingly slipping away. When we got back out to the living room, I made a last-ditch offer: Maybe we could get directly into bed, or maybe we could watch some porn in the living room and see if any interest developed. She surprised me with a third option: "Let's watch Last Tango in Paris and see how I feel in awhile. Maybe I'll wake up."

Last Tango is a film we've had "in waiting" for awhile -- waiting for a night we were both in the mood to watch it. I wasn't convinced that this was the night.

"Are you sure that's the one you want to watch?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," she said. "it's sexy, right?"

"Yeah, but ..." I trailed off.

I wasn't sure "sexy" was the word I'd have chosen. I hadn't seen Last Tango, but I knew it had a lot of sex ... some very famous scenes that I knew a little about, including the infamous "butter scene." Yes, there was sex ... but this was a pretty dark film. It's not like it was pornography.

But we watched it while I gave Amy a foot massage. Watching a 1970s art film requires adjustment when you've grown accustomed to the pace of current TV shows and movies. Even the first sex scene in this one feels laborious. Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider have met after both arriving to look at an apartment for rent at the same time. By the end of that visit, they've had some spontaneous sex on the apartment floor. There's a natural awkwardness to the scene -- this is cinema verité after all. Honestly, I didn't find it particularly arousing. Which probably speaks volumes about how my viewing likes/dislikes have been molded by watching so much traditional porn.

Amy must have felt differently. Not long after that scene, she abruptly announced from the other end of the couch: "Okay, I think I'm a little tired. Turn it off and come here."

I settled in on top of her, on top of The World's Softest Pajamas™ (a Christmas present from a long-distance relative, though chosen by me), and began some gentle kissing and nibbling on her lips, neck, earlobes. It was "kissing with out motive." A sort of warm-up. But very quickly, Amy began quietly moaning. The kissing became more intense faster than I would have expected. Her mouth became more aggressive, her tongue probing my teeth and tongue with strength and urgency. Her hips began to grind. After a few minutes, as "kiss" moved closer to "devour," I felt her hands move slowly underneath me, down the front of her World's Softest Pajamas™ top, unbuttoning. Her arms were back around me, she pulled me in even closer and sighed into my mouth.

I worked my way down to between her breasts, sucking and biting the flesh. Again, the response was more vocal than I usually get. Enveloping the nipple with my mouth stepped it up another notch. Amy's into this tonight.

I absolutely love her tits, can never lavish them with enough praise, lips, tongue, tweaks. I worked them for awhile as her hip-grinding got more intense, and the moans had turned to words: "Yes ... God, that feels good ... Bite my nipples ... Bite harder ... Now the other one...."

I live for these kinds of demands from Amy. She knows this. She probably also knows I'd love her to do it more. I'm usually the aggressor, the dirty-talker. She enjoys hearing it but doesn't always feel comfortable talking herself. That wasn't a problem on this night.

"I need you to fuck me now," she said, and my lips smiled even as they continued to tease her tits. This was going to be nice, I thought. But even taking the time for that thought pissed off my newly impatient lover. She said it again, this time with a tone to make sure I understood she wasn't messing around: "I need you to fuck me now." And she pushed me away so she could get her World's Softest Pajamas™ bottoms the fuck off her body.

This is when it occurred to me that the Brando-Schneider quick-and-dirty scene had flipped a switch for her. She wanted a hard fuck with minimum foreplay. Usually she wants a good bout of pussy-eating, suck on my cock a bit, a liberal amount of lube added to her natural wetness. But it was clear this night that I had better get my jeans off only as far as I needed to get my cock out.

Pants yanked barely below my ass, I was back over her again. I started to guide my cock in, but she pulled my hand away and took it herself. Clearly I was taking too long. She spread her lips with one hand and stuffed me in with the other, wrapping her legs around me and using her calves to push me in as deep as possible.

"Yesssssssss," she sighed. Funny, I was thinking the same thing.

She was steaming hot inside, unbelievably wet and ready for this. I started pumping into her pretty hard, but not hard enough. "Come on," she said, still sounding impatient. "Harder." Harder is what she got. She clawed at my t-shirt, and quickly it was gone. I continued to fuck her as hard as I could, and she continued to talk. "Yes ... I love it when you fuck me this way ... Fuck my pussy hard ... God, your cock feels so good in my cunt...."

For once, I was struck dumb. After all those times where I was the one saying the filthy things to get her going, here she was the total aggressor ... and I didn't know what to say! We laughed about this the next day, how the roles had flipped, and I felt out of my league. But even as I dealt with an unusual awkwardness, I loved having that "burden" lifted from me for one fun fuck session. It was clear that I had one responsibility: To give Amy the cock that she craved. No lover, no husband, no person. Just a dick to be stuck in her as hard and as often as she wanted.

She pushed me off.

"Now you're going to fuck me from behind."


I slapped her ass more than usual as I pummeled her cunt, and she screamed out each time with an abandon that I remembered from many years ago. I finally found some words as I watched my cock disappearing in and out of her.

"You like getting fucked like this?" I hissed.

"I love it," she said when she turned her head from the couch pillow.

"Then come on ... Fuck me back. Fuck back into my cock." My words were almost drowned out by the hammering sound of her ass slamming against my crotch. I reached up and grabbed her hair -- something I don't normally do -- and she hissed a "Yes!" and leaned her head back to let me grab. I reached under and grabbed her tits. "I love your tits swaying as I fuck you so hard." She screamed a little louder.

This was all too much. I was on the verge.

"Holy shit," I said, "I'm going to come real soo-- Oh, fuck!" And boom, like that, I was there, filling her cunt with several spurts of cum. She let out a long moan as she felt it.

"I want to finish you," I said as I slowly pulled my still-hard dick out of her sopping pussy.

"Of course," she said. Oh, that's right, I thought. This is the new Aggressive Amy. "But you need to get a towel."

Another difference: Normally at this point, she would have retired to the bathroom to "clean up." Tonight, she wanted hers and she wasn't going anywhere 'til she got it. An opportunity for me to indulge in something I love to do but don't get enough chance to do: Eat out her cum-filled pussy.

I was torn as I went down on her ... I wanted to keep up the "aggression" theme of the night with an enthusiastic, fast gobble, but I also wanted to savor it. I think I struck a balance, enjoying a nice creamy meal while bringing her off with shivers and screams.

Amy's pussy lips feel so different when I go down on her after a hard fuck. They feel .... unhinged. They move in ways they don't normally move. That sensation, along with the taste of my semen, actually had me hard again. Another rarity, to bounce back so quick at my age. I was tempted to "press my luck" and try fucking her again, but all her body language indicated that she was sated. And this was, after all, all about Amy tonight.

"Okay," she sighed. "Now I'm awake. Let's watch some more of the movie."

We watched another half-hour. Didn't make it to the "butter scene." Damn, if we had before our fuck, there might have been some ass action on top of everything else! Of course, that part of the movie is still coming up whenever we do get around to finishing it....


Nights like Saturday night fill me with hope. Amy and I have come a long way in regards to communicating about sex. She continues to be open to trying new things to please me ... and when she does, she seems to get into it. It is still a challenge for her to vocalize any kinks that would really get her off, but when she "takes charge" like she did on Saturday, I feel like we're a step closer. This night, combined with the (relatively recent) night of anal we had, tells me that even after all these years together, we can still find new things to try.

I love the fact that my lover for the last 15 years can still get me so fucking horny, just at the thought of her. I am truly a lucky man.

1 comment:

Fat Controller said...

I do so agree: even after years of marriage communication can be a problem. I am working on something on this subject myself.

Thanks for commenting on my blog. You now have a regular reader, hungry for more!