God bless grandmas — especially the ones who offer your children an occasional "sleepover." Only one of our two kids was out of the house Saturday night ... but that didn't stop Amy and me from tacitly agreeing that it would be a night of raunch.
One problem: The kid taken off our hands was not the one lately having trouble sleeping. It was past 10:30 before Amy and I were the only conscious humans in the house. The bedtime process exhausted us. I assumed Amy was beyond "recovery" for sex, but she surprised me by asking to be woken up with an episode of The Black Donnellys. ("It is St. Patrick's day, after all," she explained.)
"I'm sorry this evening isn't turning out the way we'd hoped," Amy said after the show. She was stroking my head in her lap.
"What were you hoping for, exactly?" I inquired.
"Oh ... I was thinking we'd watch a porno...."
We stared at a muted television playing some South By Southwest band I had lost interest in. I debated internally whether to reveal my fun secret.
"Well ..." I started, "I do have something on my computer that I've been saving to show you. It's the greatest blowjob I've ever seen filmed."
I always feel weird about revealing to Amy that I've been looking at porn, even though she's totally cool with it. She knows I masturbate a lot, and that I use "educational materials" accordingly. Still, it feels a little ... seedy.
"Okay," she said, sounding genuinely interested. "But ... You shouldn't have that stuff on your computer."
"I know. This is the only thing. I just put it on there for you to see, and then its gone."
"'Cause you don't want someone finding that by accident and being forced to fire you."
"No, you're right. It's gone after tonight. So ... You want to see it?"
"Oh yeah, sure," she said. She went to get a snack while I opened the laptop.
The video is a semi-amateur thing — meaning that the women in it are probably in the industry, either as dancers or as low-level porn actresses, but this is an improvised, small-time, Internet-only cheapie, shot with a single handheld consumer camera in a nondescript bedroom. The cameraman talks way too much, making inane smalltalk and frat-boy comments. Most of the videos I've seen by this guy is ruined by his bullshit logorrhea.
But this one video transcends his blathering.
The stars are two (naturally) large-breasted women. ("So it's a real departure for me!" I explained to Amy.) They spend the first one-third of the video playing with each other's breasts, adeptly incorporating baby oil, hands and mouths. I skipped this part for Amy's viewing and cued it to the point where the male is introduced. The women give his (large and very nice) cock a tandem blowjob. Both women are then fucked in numerous positions while they continue to kiss or play with each other's tits or go down on each other. It concludes with a money shot on their tits.
Pretty basic, vanilla stuff. Except ... Except for that blowjob. You see, these two women have sizzling chemistry. I'm not a huge fan of girl-girl, but what these women essentially do, as the guy is reclined on his back, is have an incendiary makeout session ... and the guy's dick just happens to be perched between their mouths. Their kissing is wet, wild, slow ... almost longing. They savor each other. And ... yeah, there's this huge cock that, almost as a side-effect, gets sucked.
The moment this video becomes worth every penny (even if I did download it for free) is when both men — the one in front of the camera and the one behind — unconsciously cease their nonstop chatter. Suddenly, there is silence, except for the moist sound of lips sucking on lips ... lips sucking on cock ... under-the-breath alto moans. In the span of fifteen seconds, these two lovers instantly own the room, the camera, the cock.
Two minutes later, they break with a nervous giggle; they sense the sea-change. "How's that?" One of them asks. The cameraman/director, clearly caught off guard, is almost speechless, outside of a couple of "Holy fucks." He says that he has filmed probably 1,000 scenes, and this is easily the hottest blowjob he has ever witnessed. I've probably watched that many scenes, and I don't doubt for a minute that he's right.
Amy, watching, clearly agreed. The video is broken up into four files, and this amazing head (later continued with the two women on their knees and shot from the suckee's point of view) happens in the part two. When it ended, I asked Amy: "You wanna keep going?"
"Yes!" she said, enthusiastically.
"You know," I added as I get part three open and running, "if you ever want to set something like this up for me...." She laughed.
We continued watching the whole thing, through all the fucking (both of these women have larger-than-your-usual-pornstar asses — it makes it that much better when they get fucked from behind), right up to the payoff. Just for good measure, the women have one last passionate soulkiss as their cum-covered tits rub together.
(For those interested, I've provided a link to the teaser page for this video in the comments section of this entry.)
The video over, Amy wordlessly popped off the couch and walked around the living room, dining room and kitchen, turning off lights. "After that, you probably want the lights on, though," she considered.
"There's plenty of light," I said, knowing outside ambient light would cast the room in a nice, cool blue wash.
Amy sat down on my lap, straddling me, and began a passionate kiss. Shortly, her top came off. "You get to enjoy my new bra," she said. Few things are hotter than a really well-fitted bra. I played with her covered tits until she popped the front closure and pushed a nipple into my mouth. I'm not sure if it was the focus the video put on my predilection for tit-play or if she was just that turned on, but the she was making tonight about her breasts. She and I shared one of her nipples for awhile, semi-recreating the makeout blowjob we'd seen, with a nipple in place of a cock.
She slid down off my lap, pulled off my pants. So typical of Amy: She never takes my pants off and then my underwear — they always come off together, getting her to the "prize "faster. She rubbed one tit, then the other, up and down my shaft. Finally, her mouth enveloped me, and she primed me with wetness and warmth. She wrapped her breasts around my cock and absorbed my hip thrusts. She seemed to want me to fuck her tits, but she kept coming back to sucking on my dick. At one point, she slowed down and tried her best to re-create a solo version of what the young ladies earlier had accomplished. "I'm imagining you teaming up with someone else as you do that," I suggested.
She stood up, pulled off her pants, straddled me again, pressing her wet cunt against my dick, and sliding up and down. "Am I catching your clit?" I asked her. She moaned in the affirmative. "Use my cock," I encouraged. "Use me to get yourself off." She tried, but what Amy really wanted became obvious when she stood up on the couch and pushed her pussy in my face.
I went to town. So did she, rubbing her cunt all over my mouth, and finally collapsing sideways onto her back — but taking care to keep my mouth in full contact with her clit through the fall. From this position, I brought her to an intense, bucking orgasm.
After a short rest, I asked, "More?" hoping to get to eat her out again.
"More with something else," she said.
I got up on my knees and pushed into her, starting slow and building a rhythm.
"Tell me what else you liked about that video," she ordered.
"I loved their asses," I said. "Nice, big asses, made for fucking."
Amy giggled and kissed me. "How come you never see a video where women are lusting after a man with a big ass?" I had no good answer to that. I was laughing too hard anyway.
I continued: "I have to think it was a good thing that guy didn't fuck 'em in the ass."
"He was huge," Amy said, stating the obvious.
"And I know they're passé, but I loved the one woman's back tattoo," I said. "It's so ... slutty."
Amy laughed. "Don't put too fine a point on it!"
"I'm serious!" I said. Our hips were starting to pick up speed. "You know, you can get temporary tattoos like that," I said, remembering the image of Penelope on her and Odysseus' blog. "You should try one sometime. Then you can be my whore." We both laughed, and things ratcheted up into another gear. I reiterated: "I would fuck my whore." She moaned and pushed back against me harder.
I pulled away and said, "Let's try reverse cowgirl, so I can watch your gorgeous ass."
"I love the way you call it by it's 'official name,'" Amy said with a roll of her eyes.
"What? That's what it's called!"
"I know," she said, straddling my legs, lowering herself onto my cock. "But .... Mmmmmmmmm."
This was a very good position for Amy. She really started getting vocal now. But her thighs weren't holding up; she had to beg off long before either of us wanted her to. Instead, she took up on her hands and knees, on the couch. I took a moment to admire the view before sinking into her once again.
At some point, I found the right spot. "Oh yeah," she panted. "Right there."
I really wanted some talk tonight. "This the way you like to be fucked?" I said.
"Yes!"
"I can tell. Come on, fuck me back." Her rocking became more punctuated. Then I held her ass still while I pulled out, just the tip still in her folds ... and I slammed home.
"Oh God, yes!"
Well, that worked. I tried it again.
"Uhhh. Yes!"
I gathered my strength and fucked her hard with those same long strokes, but faster. And harder. I wanted to hear how loud I could make the hollow clap of my hips hitting her ass. The sound competed with her rhythmic screams. I could tell she was on the verge of new territory. I upped the ante, measuring my palm against her ass, and I came down hard with a slap.
"You know where I'm gonna come?" I hissed.
"Where?"
I slapped her ass again. "I'm gonna come all over your tits."
"Yes, please come on my tits! I love your come on my tits!"
That was the last thing she was able to say. This was just about my highest gear. The only reason I hadn't already come was because I had become momentarily preoccupied with the thought of how incredibly sore my already-wobbly legs were going to be on Monday. Amy brought me back to the moment with sounds I'd never heard before — simultaneously guttural and high-pitched. Was this it? The closest she'd ever been?
Her seeming transcendant state put me over the top. I laughed as I shot my load deep into her: There was no way I was going to pull out of her for the promised breast cumshot. My cock needed to be buried right where it was.
And after we'd come down, our panting the only sound in the room, I realized: I would have been hard-pressed to pull out at all. My hard-on was in a vice grip.
"Jesus, Amy ... You're pussy is holding onto my cock."
This never happens. I mean, she doesn't work to keep those muscles toned. But something had happened.
"I can't relax," she said. Funny, because at that moment, she was probably more relaxed than she'd been in ages. Just ... not her cunt muscles.
We finally were able to disengage, and she fell back into my arms, her eyes closed, her hands searching for my face, her lips devouring mine.
I asked: "Did you actually come?"
"I think so," she said. "If not, it was the closest. For the first time ever, I was able to lose myself and let a door open that I never let open before."
"Damn," I whispered. "Let's work on keeping that door ajar."
"It's funny that, after 16 years together, we're still searching for the ever elusive orgasm-while-fucking," she observed.
"I think it's pretty great," I said, "that we still have a goal like that after 16 years. Most couples have played it all out by then."
We hobbled to the bedroom, leaving all our clothes and the couch pillows all over the living room floor. If we'd tried bending down to pick that stuff up, I doubt we would have been able to get back up again.
Showing posts with label aggressive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aggressive. Show all posts
19 March 2007
20 February 2007
V-Day, Night One: Fashion Show
For the first time in I-can't-remember-how-long, I knew exactly what I was getting Amy for Valentine's Day .... wayyy ahead of time. The gift revealed itself unexpectedly when I sat in our kitchen one morning. I always need to read something with breakfast — can't just sit there — and I was feeling too lazy to retrieve that day's paper. The only thing within reach was a department store catalog, so I randomly opened it up to a page, and boom: a spectacular bra-and-thong set. Department store catalog lingerie layouts don't normally catch my eye. (I prefer my wimmen nekkid!) But this set not only turned me on, I also knew that Amy would like it too. It had been years since I bought her something sexy to wear. I was resolved.1
Even more remarkable than knowing what I was going to get her was the fact that I actually purchased it a full two weeks before Valentine's Day. Unheard of! While I was at the store, I made the comment that my wife wasn't crazy about thongs, but that the set was so beautiful that I would take the chance. The saleswoman said, "Oh, this style comes with a regular panty too, it's just not in the catalog." Excellent! As much as I love Amy in a thongs, my Valentine's sacrifice was to go with what would make her more comfortable.
My gloating that her Valentine gift was set struck Amy with fear. "I have no idea what I'm doing for you," she whined.
"You don't have to work very hard," I assured her. And I was serious. But Valentine's Day is a big deal for Amy, and on the Sunday before, she enacted her plan at a local mall, forcing me to bugger off for an hour2 while she shopped for my gift.
With V-Day falling on a Wednesday this year, we knew we weren't going to truly celebrate the way we wanted on a weeknight. So we decided instead to do the gifts-and-cards thing on the true Valentine's Day ... but really celebrate it the following Saturday. As it turned out, due to work we had to do for our respective jobs, February 14th almost escaped us without our even opening the gifts. It was 11:30 before we tore ourselves from our computers and settled on the couch with two boxes ... from the same store.
"I have a feeling we got the same thing," Amy said with a wicked grin.
"I should be so lucky," I said.
She opened hers first, and loved the underwear. But she didn't try it on; she wanted me to get to my box. At this point, I knew what it had to be.
"I couldn't decide on just one thing," she said. That's textbook Amy: She purchases, on average, three outfits for every one she actually keeps. In this case, my gift box contained not three, but four different sets of lingerie. "I thought it was time I had more sexy clothes to wear," she explained.
"It's nice when we're on the same wavelength," I commented.
I examined and commented on each ensemble. I had to laugh that two of them had thongs, after I had gone to the effort of avoiding them with my gift. I finally said, "How am I supposed to decide?"
"I thought we'd do a fashion show downstairs," Amy suggested.
Off we headed to our exceedingly comfortable basement, with the rarely used but versatile, large sectional couch. When we head down there, it's usually because we want a place where loud, no-holds-barred sex won't wake up the children. Amy told me to grab the Astroglide before I headed down. My high-school brain kicked in and I let out a long Yesssssss inside, stretching the word out from my head to my loins.
Amy's first outfit3 was a straightforward camisole-panty combo in a grey-blue. She emerged from an adjoining room with a tiny, insecure giggle. But once she came around the couch to me, she'd taken on more of the seductress's demeanor, absently running her hands over the fabric of the camisole and squeezing out a wry smile. I spun my index finger to indicate my supermodel to turn around. I appreciated her ass with my hands, simply commenting, "Nice." She turned back around, took my face in her hands, and gave me a deep kiss. Then, off she went.
Number Two was a little busy: A 1960s-inspired psychedelic print of pinks and purples, with a high slit up each side and little faux-ribbons "tying" said slits together. The cups were trimmed with pink lace. We both decided quickly it wasn't working. As she walked away, I yelled: "Hey!" She dutifully came back and gave me another kiss. I wasn't gonna get shorted!
Third up to bat was a fave: a seafoam-green number, a really soft camisole with a sexy thong. And for extra measure, it came with pajama bottoms of the same material as the camisole. Amy liked this one because of the pajama option; I liked it because of what the pajamas hid. I had her turn around, and I inched down the pants. I tasted each globe of her ass. She laughed, turned around while pulling the pajamas back up. Again, a kiss as she held my head, this time lingering to tell me: "I'm not sure I can wait for the last outfit."
"Yeah?" I whispered, my teeth grabbing at her lower lip. "Why's that?"
"I can't stop thinking about all the ..."
"Mm-hmmm?"
"... nasty things I want to do to you."
I kissed her again. "Go ... get ... the last one ... on ... now."
The final outfit was a winner, too, probably for it's simplicity: A solid periwinkle cami-and-thong thing. She looks great in this color. Honestly, I spent less time studying this one than the others; I wanted to eat this woman alive by now. She was similarly worked up. She plopped right down in my lap, straddling me. Our lips and mouths hungrily explored.
"I can't decide between the last two outfits," I moaned into her mouth. One hand was on a silk-covered breast, the other playing with the thong and the crack of her ass.
She worked over to my ear and, with some extra breath, hissed, "Nothing says I can't keep more than one...." She ground her crotch against me. Her tongue probed my ear, causing my hips to inadvertently thrust upward.
She backed off and told me she wanted to suck my cock. But when she started unbuttoning my pants, I stopped her. "I want to see you in another position. Get on your knees." Amy smiled and turned around, ass toward me, arms on the couch. "No," I corrected her. "Turn around. Face me." She did so. "Now suck my cock."
I rarely get her in this position, and it's really too bad. I enjoy the master-slave quality to it ... the fact that she's in a position of service. And service she did. "Look at me while you suck me," I ordered. She's always had a hard time getting in the position to do this, but she gave it her best shot. It was more important for me — and apparently for her too — to voraciously work on my cock.
After awhile, her knees were getting tired, she slid up and sat on the couch without taking my dick out of her mouth. The new angle allowed the opportunity for me to seriously do her mouth, but I wanted more: I pushed her back until her head was against the back cushion, and I crouched on the couch, hovering over her, continuing to piston in and out of her mouth. She was hanging on for dear life, but she was enjoying the treatment. I finally fell back in slow-motion onto another section of the couch, winded — but brought her mouth with me, and the assault on my cock continued: She even used her teeth a bit — a little hard, a little painful, the good painful, increasing the energy in the room, and seeming to hone my focus.
"I think I deserve to have my pussy licked," she said after awhile. No argument from me. I kissed her abused, tender mouth, gently ... and then tore off her new thong as quickly as possible. She was sopping. She was steaming. She was delicious. I could not keep from moaning like a starving animal as I tried to get as much of her cunt in my mouth as I could. I can never get enough. I finally settled down into a rhythm, working the pearl and sensing her movements, finding the motion that worked best tonight. Which, tonight, seemed to be a fluttering tongue tip. She bucked into my face as she came, lost in the fog of her peak.
"I need to fuck you now," I growled, and then ordered: "On your knees." Wordlessly, still coming down off her orgasm, she moved into position.
Once I entered her, I stood up and, crouching down, fucked down into her from above. This seemed to work nicely for her, along with the spanking I was administering (with lubed hands, for extra noise and impact). I spanked her in one place over and over again on her right buttcheek, leaving a clear, red impression of my hand on her ass. Happy with that handiwork, I dribbled some lube down her crack, and thumbed her asshole for awhile. Occasionally, I'd grab her hips and concentrate on deep, hard fucking.
"Not ... long ... now" was all I could muster at this point.
"I'm close!" she said, hoping again for the ever-elusive orgasm-during-intercourse. It was not to be this time either. But all she had to say was "Fuck me ... harder!" and I was there, jetting my cum deep into her cunt. And holding myself in her, as long as I could. Not wanting this to end.
"I think ..." I panted as my spent member slipped from her, "... that the gift was a success."
Later, she came back from the other room with the other outfits.
"So the last two are keepers?" she asked. She also asked me if I wanted her to try on the bra set I'd given her. I told her to save it for Saturday night, when we went out for our belated Valentine's Day celebration.
Because, you know ... this wasn't the celebration. This was just ... a fashion show. Right?
--
1There another part to her Valentine's Day present, too: The first chapter of a multi-part erotic story starring Amy, based on a fantasy she described to me once (in an effort to get me off). My real-life commitments have prevented me from completing the story, so it'll be a fun thing to surprise her with one evening soon. Sorry:I won't be sharing the story here. I know this may come as a surprise when I say that some things need to be kept secret. [Return to where you were in this entry]
2 I ended up in a bookstore, looking at a bargain-book display, when I noticed a copy of Us Weekly lying discarded. The cover story promised proof that Britney Spears was a lesbian. How could I resist? So I'm here to tell you now, Dear Reader, the three indisputable pieces of evidence that prove Britney munches carpet: 1) She was seen walking out of a "known lesbian hangout" with a woman; 2) She kissed Madonna on the MTV Music Awards (3-1/2 years ago, but don't confuse the issue); and 3) most damning of all: a papparazzi took a picture of her looking at a copy of Playboy magazine. And what heterosexual woman would ever do that? So there — it's a fact! [Return]
3 My descriptions of these outfits are hobbled by my Y chromosome. I had to fall back on similar looking items on lingerie web sites to figure out what words to use. Forgive my deficiencies in this respect. [Return]
Even more remarkable than knowing what I was going to get her was the fact that I actually purchased it a full two weeks before Valentine's Day. Unheard of! While I was at the store, I made the comment that my wife wasn't crazy about thongs, but that the set was so beautiful that I would take the chance. The saleswoman said, "Oh, this style comes with a regular panty too, it's just not in the catalog." Excellent! As much as I love Amy in a thongs, my Valentine's sacrifice was to go with what would make her more comfortable.
My gloating that her Valentine gift was set struck Amy with fear. "I have no idea what I'm doing for you," she whined.
"You don't have to work very hard," I assured her. And I was serious. But Valentine's Day is a big deal for Amy, and on the Sunday before, she enacted her plan at a local mall, forcing me to bugger off for an hour2 while she shopped for my gift.
With V-Day falling on a Wednesday this year, we knew we weren't going to truly celebrate the way we wanted on a weeknight. So we decided instead to do the gifts-and-cards thing on the true Valentine's Day ... but really celebrate it the following Saturday. As it turned out, due to work we had to do for our respective jobs, February 14th almost escaped us without our even opening the gifts. It was 11:30 before we tore ourselves from our computers and settled on the couch with two boxes ... from the same store.
"I have a feeling we got the same thing," Amy said with a wicked grin.
"I should be so lucky," I said.
She opened hers first, and loved the underwear. But she didn't try it on; she wanted me to get to my box. At this point, I knew what it had to be.
"I couldn't decide on just one thing," she said. That's textbook Amy: She purchases, on average, three outfits for every one she actually keeps. In this case, my gift box contained not three, but four different sets of lingerie. "I thought it was time I had more sexy clothes to wear," she explained.
"It's nice when we're on the same wavelength," I commented.
I examined and commented on each ensemble. I had to laugh that two of them had thongs, after I had gone to the effort of avoiding them with my gift. I finally said, "How am I supposed to decide?"
"I thought we'd do a fashion show downstairs," Amy suggested.
Off we headed to our exceedingly comfortable basement, with the rarely used but versatile, large sectional couch. When we head down there, it's usually because we want a place where loud, no-holds-barred sex won't wake up the children. Amy told me to grab the Astroglide before I headed down. My high-school brain kicked in and I let out a long Yesssssss inside, stretching the word out from my head to my loins.
Amy's first outfit3 was a straightforward camisole-panty combo in a grey-blue. She emerged from an adjoining room with a tiny, insecure giggle. But once she came around the couch to me, she'd taken on more of the seductress's demeanor, absently running her hands over the fabric of the camisole and squeezing out a wry smile. I spun my index finger to indicate my supermodel to turn around. I appreciated her ass with my hands, simply commenting, "Nice." She turned back around, took my face in her hands, and gave me a deep kiss. Then, off she went.
Number Two was a little busy: A 1960s-inspired psychedelic print of pinks and purples, with a high slit up each side and little faux-ribbons "tying" said slits together. The cups were trimmed with pink lace. We both decided quickly it wasn't working. As she walked away, I yelled: "Hey!" She dutifully came back and gave me another kiss. I wasn't gonna get shorted!
Third up to bat was a fave: a seafoam-green number, a really soft camisole with a sexy thong. And for extra measure, it came with pajama bottoms of the same material as the camisole. Amy liked this one because of the pajama option; I liked it because of what the pajamas hid. I had her turn around, and I inched down the pants. I tasted each globe of her ass. She laughed, turned around while pulling the pajamas back up. Again, a kiss as she held my head, this time lingering to tell me: "I'm not sure I can wait for the last outfit."
"Yeah?" I whispered, my teeth grabbing at her lower lip. "Why's that?"
"I can't stop thinking about all the ..."
"Mm-hmmm?"
"... nasty things I want to do to you."
I kissed her again. "Go ... get ... the last one ... on ... now."
The final outfit was a winner, too, probably for it's simplicity: A solid periwinkle cami-and-thong thing. She looks great in this color. Honestly, I spent less time studying this one than the others; I wanted to eat this woman alive by now. She was similarly worked up. She plopped right down in my lap, straddling me. Our lips and mouths hungrily explored.
"I can't decide between the last two outfits," I moaned into her mouth. One hand was on a silk-covered breast, the other playing with the thong and the crack of her ass.
She worked over to my ear and, with some extra breath, hissed, "Nothing says I can't keep more than one...." She ground her crotch against me. Her tongue probed my ear, causing my hips to inadvertently thrust upward.
She backed off and told me she wanted to suck my cock. But when she started unbuttoning my pants, I stopped her. "I want to see you in another position. Get on your knees." Amy smiled and turned around, ass toward me, arms on the couch. "No," I corrected her. "Turn around. Face me." She did so. "Now suck my cock."
I rarely get her in this position, and it's really too bad. I enjoy the master-slave quality to it ... the fact that she's in a position of service. And service she did. "Look at me while you suck me," I ordered. She's always had a hard time getting in the position to do this, but she gave it her best shot. It was more important for me — and apparently for her too — to voraciously work on my cock.
After awhile, her knees were getting tired, she slid up and sat on the couch without taking my dick out of her mouth. The new angle allowed the opportunity for me to seriously do her mouth, but I wanted more: I pushed her back until her head was against the back cushion, and I crouched on the couch, hovering over her, continuing to piston in and out of her mouth. She was hanging on for dear life, but she was enjoying the treatment. I finally fell back in slow-motion onto another section of the couch, winded — but brought her mouth with me, and the assault on my cock continued: She even used her teeth a bit — a little hard, a little painful, the good painful, increasing the energy in the room, and seeming to hone my focus.
"I think I deserve to have my pussy licked," she said after awhile. No argument from me. I kissed her abused, tender mouth, gently ... and then tore off her new thong as quickly as possible. She was sopping. She was steaming. She was delicious. I could not keep from moaning like a starving animal as I tried to get as much of her cunt in my mouth as I could. I can never get enough. I finally settled down into a rhythm, working the pearl and sensing her movements, finding the motion that worked best tonight. Which, tonight, seemed to be a fluttering tongue tip. She bucked into my face as she came, lost in the fog of her peak.
"I need to fuck you now," I growled, and then ordered: "On your knees." Wordlessly, still coming down off her orgasm, she moved into position.
Once I entered her, I stood up and, crouching down, fucked down into her from above. This seemed to work nicely for her, along with the spanking I was administering (with lubed hands, for extra noise and impact). I spanked her in one place over and over again on her right buttcheek, leaving a clear, red impression of my hand on her ass. Happy with that handiwork, I dribbled some lube down her crack, and thumbed her asshole for awhile. Occasionally, I'd grab her hips and concentrate on deep, hard fucking.
"Not ... long ... now" was all I could muster at this point.
"I'm close!" she said, hoping again for the ever-elusive orgasm-during-intercourse. It was not to be this time either. But all she had to say was "Fuck me ... harder!" and I was there, jetting my cum deep into her cunt. And holding myself in her, as long as I could. Not wanting this to end.
"I think ..." I panted as my spent member slipped from her, "... that the gift was a success."
Later, she came back from the other room with the other outfits.
"So the last two are keepers?" she asked. She also asked me if I wanted her to try on the bra set I'd given her. I told her to save it for Saturday night, when we went out for our belated Valentine's Day celebration.
Because, you know ... this wasn't the celebration. This was just ... a fashion show. Right?
--
1There another part to her Valentine's Day present, too: The first chapter of a multi-part erotic story starring Amy, based on a fantasy she described to me once (in an effort to get me off). My real-life commitments have prevented me from completing the story, so it'll be a fun thing to surprise her with one evening soon. Sorry:I won't be sharing the story here. I know this may come as a surprise when I say that some things need to be kept secret. [Return to where you were in this entry]
2 I ended up in a bookstore, looking at a bargain-book display, when I noticed a copy of Us Weekly lying discarded. The cover story promised proof that Britney Spears was a lesbian. How could I resist? So I'm here to tell you now, Dear Reader, the three indisputable pieces of evidence that prove Britney munches carpet: 1) She was seen walking out of a "known lesbian hangout" with a woman; 2) She kissed Madonna on the MTV Music Awards (3-1/2 years ago, but don't confuse the issue); and 3) most damning of all: a papparazzi took a picture of her looking at a copy of Playboy magazine. And what heterosexual woman would ever do that? So there — it's a fact! [Return]
3 My descriptions of these outfits are hobbled by my Y chromosome. I had to fall back on similar looking items on lingerie web sites to figure out what words to use. Forgive my deficiencies in this respect. [Return]
03 February 2007
The 40-Year-Old Anal Virgin
I'm a firm believer that to fully appreciate sex, you have to have a good sense of humor. And you can't be terribly modest. These two traits are also useful if you're planning on blogging about your sex life. For some reason, ascribing to these beliefs doesn't make it any easier for me to be slightly embarrassed by the fact that Amy's and my initiation into anal sex together came at the behest of watching the comedy The 40-Year-Old Virgin.
The movie is a rarity, in the sense that it's a Hollywood comedy that I find quite funny, even laugh-out-loud at times. I've never gotten into those LCD comedies that have been all the rage over the last few years, like American Pie, Dumb and Dumber, and Something About Mary. I've started watching each of them on pay cable movie stations, but abandoned each for their sheer lameness. So when I picked up Virgin off HBO one night this past autumn, it was on the faith of the word friends whose opinions I respect. Its short length definitely had that going for it. But in all honesty, Amy and I weren't holding our breath for genius.
And while we're talking about low expectations, neither of us figured much would be happening in the sex department that night. It was Friday, always the night of the week when Amy is her most tired, having been wrung out many times by work and the kids. On top of that, she decided to open a bottle of red wine to consume while watching ... a relaxant that I (and probably she) believed would elicit drowsiness rather than horniness.
The bottle was consumed over the course of the film, but -- and this probably speaks to the strength of the movie -- we were both awake and laughing right up to the final scene, a hilarious outdoor dance number performed by the cast, apropos of absolutely nothing else in the story. Amy and I were sufficiently relaxed and punchy to recognize the glory of the moment.
Amy was also sufficiently horny to push me down on my back on the couch and pounce on top of me the moment the credits were rolling. She started in right away with strong kisses from alcohol-loosened lips. Then she was rubbing her body against my clothed hardness. Then she sat up, and off flew the top and the bra.
Damn.
Back down on top of me, she fed me her tits, encouraging me to bite -- something that, with her still nursing, doesn't happen often (she's usually too sore). So when she requests it, it's a good sign that she's particularly wound up. Well, that and the fact that she then stood up and ordered me to get my clothes off. A few lollipop-sucks of my already hard cock, and she was back on top, hustling me inside of her, and once again feeding me her tits, with that breathy voice right next to my ear, encouraging me to do a good job.
This went on for awhile, and then out of nowhere, she says:
"Don't freak out when I say this."
I froze. What the Hell is coming next? "Okay ...."
"Do you want to try fucking me in the ass?"
You know, I nearly come in my jeans just typing that sentence.
Alright, I thought, that's it. I've died. I'm in Heaven -- and it turns out that Heaven is exactly what I'd always thought it would be: One giant edition of Penthouse Forum.
How does one respond to one of his biggest unrealized (even if it is mainstream) fantasies being offered up ... without even asking?
Well, one responds by summoning up as much import in one's voice as possible, and saying in a quiet, controlled voice: "If you're ready to try, I would love nothing more." She kissed me again.
It was my job to go get the lube and a condom. I mastered time-travel on that jaunt to our bedroom. You can bet I was as quiet as possible too, floating by a sleeping child's room. Because wouldn't it be just perfect right now if one of those little cherubs woke up and needed Mommy or Daddy?
Safely back in the living room, I kissed Amy again.
"So, what do you want me to do?" she asked.
"Get on your hands and knees," I said, and I laughed inside at my sudden business-like approach. I was focused, like those emergency first-responders who have practiced and practiced for a terrorist attack, and now they were finally putting into action what, to date, had only been theory.
And there she was, with her ass facing me. She's good at following direction.
God, that beautiful ass. I couldn't resist kissing the globes, gently biting them, as I knelt on the floor by the couch and flipped the top on the Astroglide. I squeezed a bit directly onto her asshole and massaged the ring for awhile before slipping one finger in. We'd been this far before: Often while fucking Amy doggy-style, or sometimes while going down on her, I work a finger or thumb into her anus. She's always been fine with it.
"How you doin'?" I asked after a couple of minutes of fucking her with a single finger.
"Great," she said.
"Okay," I said. "I'm adding another finger now. Gotta loosen you up and get you ready."
She concurred, and then added: "For someone who's never done this before, you seem to know exactly what you're doing."
"Oh believe me," I chuckled under my breath, "I've done extensive reading and research in preparation for tonight." I must have added the right amount of comic desperation to my voice, because she laughed again.
I lubed up my middle and index fingers and gently pushed in. My free hand caressed her back, her sides, and occasionally swept underneath to her breasts, keeping up a steady stream of stimulation. A few minutes later, I checked in with her again.
"It feels good," she said, sounding a little surprised that two fingers had gone so well. "Try another finger?"
"That's what I'm doing," I said, already adding lube to my ring finger. I took the three-fingered penetration quite a bit slower, adding more Astroglide to her asshole in the process. After a minute or so, she was taking it like a pro. Her ass was also starting to move back against my hand.
I asked, "What do you think? Ready?"
"Sure," she said. If she was nervous, she was hiding it. I know I was nervous. It's hard not to imagine this scenario so many times and not be a little freaked the first time it's happening. I felt like a teenager about to have dinner with the supermodel whose picture is taped to the inside of his locker.
I put on the condom, positioned myself behind her and lubed my cock really well, adding another dollop to her ass. It was certainly in everyone's best interest to make sure that we were not underlubricated. I wanted her to like this. I wanted her to crave this.
The tip of my cock disappeared past her ring.
"Okay?"
"Yeah." No sign of stress at all. I pushed another inch in. "Good," she encouraged. I was still nervous.
"Why don't you push back against me at your own pace," I suggested. And instantly I was in to the hilt. Holy fuck. That was much easier than I had expected. Either her ass is made for fucking or I got her primed well enough ahead of time. Hopefully both.
The first thing I noticed was the heat. It seemed warmer than her pussy. The second sensation was the tightness. Thank god for the lube, or I think the friction would have made her sore pretty quickly. Either that or it would have pulled the condom right off. This was pretty intense.
"Are you gonna start moving?" she asked with a smile in her voice.
"Yeah. Sorry. Enjoying the moment." Of course, I kept it slow at first, but shortly Amy encouraged me to pick up the pace -- she was fine.
And before I knew it, I was seriously and intensely fucking my wife's ass.
After several minutes, it was clear that I was not coming anytime soon. Amy even helpfully added some good dirty talk, and I responded in kind, spanking her ass a bit as I laid into it. I don't know if it was the alcohol in my system, or the intensity of the moment, none of the above, all of the above ... but there was no way I was going to shoot my load before she got tired. (My erection was having no problem at all ... I just wasn't gonna climax.)
So Amy offered, "How about I go down on you for awhile?" I realize I was wearing a condom (and in hindsight, it's probably why she wanted me to wear one), but it took me by surprise that Amy, usually so skittish about the inside of the butt, was so quick to offer a post-ass-fuck blowjob.
She wasted no time enthusiastically gobbling me, and I lay there thinking about what had just transpired. By dwelling on it, I came after only a few minutes. The ejaculate sprayed all over my belly, and to no one's surprise, there was a lot. One spurt landed on my shoulder.
I don't really recall what else we said that night, but you can bet "thank you" was uttered more than once. And actually, Amy thanked me too. Her impression was that it was quite pleasing, and that she definitely wanted to try some more of that.
We've tried one other time since. We were in a different room a week or two later, watching some porn when I suggested it. "Sure," she said in her most sporting, GGG voice. The same process followed ... One lubed finger, and then two.... But after taking two for awhile, she said: "I'm sorry, but this isn't comfortable for me tonight. I don't think it's gonna work." She sounded disappointed. We surmised that the alcohol the first time had everything to do with it: Inhibitions and muscles were significantly looser with a half-bottle of red in her.
A couple of humorous items: We've since purchased The 40-Year-Old Virgin on DVD, laughing all along about its watershed place in our relationship. And red wine has garnered a new connotation. When we look at the wines available for an evening meal, we pass on the reds. We're saving one of those for a private night. Soon. I hope.
The movie is a rarity, in the sense that it's a Hollywood comedy that I find quite funny, even laugh-out-loud at times. I've never gotten into those LCD comedies that have been all the rage over the last few years, like American Pie, Dumb and Dumber, and Something About Mary. I've started watching each of them on pay cable movie stations, but abandoned each for their sheer lameness. So when I picked up Virgin off HBO one night this past autumn, it was on the faith of the word friends whose opinions I respect. Its short length definitely had that going for it. But in all honesty, Amy and I weren't holding our breath for genius.
And while we're talking about low expectations, neither of us figured much would be happening in the sex department that night. It was Friday, always the night of the week when Amy is her most tired, having been wrung out many times by work and the kids. On top of that, she decided to open a bottle of red wine to consume while watching ... a relaxant that I (and probably she) believed would elicit drowsiness rather than horniness.
The bottle was consumed over the course of the film, but -- and this probably speaks to the strength of the movie -- we were both awake and laughing right up to the final scene, a hilarious outdoor dance number performed by the cast, apropos of absolutely nothing else in the story. Amy and I were sufficiently relaxed and punchy to recognize the glory of the moment.
Amy was also sufficiently horny to push me down on my back on the couch and pounce on top of me the moment the credits were rolling. She started in right away with strong kisses from alcohol-loosened lips. Then she was rubbing her body against my clothed hardness. Then she sat up, and off flew the top and the bra.
Damn.
Back down on top of me, she fed me her tits, encouraging me to bite -- something that, with her still nursing, doesn't happen often (she's usually too sore). So when she requests it, it's a good sign that she's particularly wound up. Well, that and the fact that she then stood up and ordered me to get my clothes off. A few lollipop-sucks of my already hard cock, and she was back on top, hustling me inside of her, and once again feeding me her tits, with that breathy voice right next to my ear, encouraging me to do a good job.
This went on for awhile, and then out of nowhere, she says:
"Don't freak out when I say this."
I froze. What the Hell is coming next? "Okay ...."
"Do you want to try fucking me in the ass?"
You know, I nearly come in my jeans just typing that sentence.
Alright, I thought, that's it. I've died. I'm in Heaven -- and it turns out that Heaven is exactly what I'd always thought it would be: One giant edition of Penthouse Forum.
How does one respond to one of his biggest unrealized (even if it is mainstream) fantasies being offered up ... without even asking?
Well, one responds by summoning up as much import in one's voice as possible, and saying in a quiet, controlled voice: "If you're ready to try, I would love nothing more." She kissed me again.
It was my job to go get the lube and a condom. I mastered time-travel on that jaunt to our bedroom. You can bet I was as quiet as possible too, floating by a sleeping child's room. Because wouldn't it be just perfect right now if one of those little cherubs woke up and needed Mommy or Daddy?
Safely back in the living room, I kissed Amy again.
"So, what do you want me to do?" she asked.
"Get on your hands and knees," I said, and I laughed inside at my sudden business-like approach. I was focused, like those emergency first-responders who have practiced and practiced for a terrorist attack, and now they were finally putting into action what, to date, had only been theory.
And there she was, with her ass facing me. She's good at following direction.
God, that beautiful ass. I couldn't resist kissing the globes, gently biting them, as I knelt on the floor by the couch and flipped the top on the Astroglide. I squeezed a bit directly onto her asshole and massaged the ring for awhile before slipping one finger in. We'd been this far before: Often while fucking Amy doggy-style, or sometimes while going down on her, I work a finger or thumb into her anus. She's always been fine with it.
"How you doin'?" I asked after a couple of minutes of fucking her with a single finger.
"Great," she said.
"Okay," I said. "I'm adding another finger now. Gotta loosen you up and get you ready."
She concurred, and then added: "For someone who's never done this before, you seem to know exactly what you're doing."
"Oh believe me," I chuckled under my breath, "I've done extensive reading and research in preparation for tonight." I must have added the right amount of comic desperation to my voice, because she laughed again.
I lubed up my middle and index fingers and gently pushed in. My free hand caressed her back, her sides, and occasionally swept underneath to her breasts, keeping up a steady stream of stimulation. A few minutes later, I checked in with her again.
"It feels good," she said, sounding a little surprised that two fingers had gone so well. "Try another finger?"
"That's what I'm doing," I said, already adding lube to my ring finger. I took the three-fingered penetration quite a bit slower, adding more Astroglide to her asshole in the process. After a minute or so, she was taking it like a pro. Her ass was also starting to move back against my hand.
I asked, "What do you think? Ready?"
"Sure," she said. If she was nervous, she was hiding it. I know I was nervous. It's hard not to imagine this scenario so many times and not be a little freaked the first time it's happening. I felt like a teenager about to have dinner with the supermodel whose picture is taped to the inside of his locker.
I put on the condom, positioned myself behind her and lubed my cock really well, adding another dollop to her ass. It was certainly in everyone's best interest to make sure that we were not underlubricated. I wanted her to like this. I wanted her to crave this.
The tip of my cock disappeared past her ring.
"Okay?"
"Yeah." No sign of stress at all. I pushed another inch in. "Good," she encouraged. I was still nervous.
"Why don't you push back against me at your own pace," I suggested. And instantly I was in to the hilt. Holy fuck. That was much easier than I had expected. Either her ass is made for fucking or I got her primed well enough ahead of time. Hopefully both.
The first thing I noticed was the heat. It seemed warmer than her pussy. The second sensation was the tightness. Thank god for the lube, or I think the friction would have made her sore pretty quickly. Either that or it would have pulled the condom right off. This was pretty intense.
"Are you gonna start moving?" she asked with a smile in her voice.
"Yeah. Sorry. Enjoying the moment." Of course, I kept it slow at first, but shortly Amy encouraged me to pick up the pace -- she was fine.
And before I knew it, I was seriously and intensely fucking my wife's ass.
After several minutes, it was clear that I was not coming anytime soon. Amy even helpfully added some good dirty talk, and I responded in kind, spanking her ass a bit as I laid into it. I don't know if it was the alcohol in my system, or the intensity of the moment, none of the above, all of the above ... but there was no way I was going to shoot my load before she got tired. (My erection was having no problem at all ... I just wasn't gonna climax.)
So Amy offered, "How about I go down on you for awhile?" I realize I was wearing a condom (and in hindsight, it's probably why she wanted me to wear one), but it took me by surprise that Amy, usually so skittish about the inside of the butt, was so quick to offer a post-ass-fuck blowjob.
She wasted no time enthusiastically gobbling me, and I lay there thinking about what had just transpired. By dwelling on it, I came after only a few minutes. The ejaculate sprayed all over my belly, and to no one's surprise, there was a lot. One spurt landed on my shoulder.
I don't really recall what else we said that night, but you can bet "thank you" was uttered more than once. And actually, Amy thanked me too. Her impression was that it was quite pleasing, and that she definitely wanted to try some more of that.
We've tried one other time since. We were in a different room a week or two later, watching some porn when I suggested it. "Sure," she said in her most sporting, GGG voice. The same process followed ... One lubed finger, and then two.... But after taking two for awhile, she said: "I'm sorry, but this isn't comfortable for me tonight. I don't think it's gonna work." She sounded disappointed. We surmised that the alcohol the first time had everything to do with it: Inhibitions and muscles were significantly looser with a half-bottle of red in her.
A couple of humorous items: We've since purchased The 40-Year-Old Virgin on DVD, laughing all along about its watershed place in our relationship. And red wine has garnered a new connotation. When we look at the wines available for an evening meal, we pass on the reds. We're saving one of those for a private night. Soon. I hope.
27 January 2007
17 January 2007
TMI Tuesday #1: One Day Late
TMI Tuesday used the excuse of the holiday for throwing them off ... so I will too! Thought I'd get in on this weekly activity, at least for awhile. Seeing as this is such a new blog and I'm a relative stranger to the "scene," I figured it would be a chance for readers to gain some insight.
1) What are three mistakes someone could make on the first date with you that would automatically make you turn down a second date with them?
Man, it's been a long time since I've dated. But let me imagine this for a second....
Mmmmm ... back seat of the car ... bra hiked up ... jeans pulled down ... feeling that delectable, wet ....
Oops, sorry. Stay on task, Connor. Okay.
a) If she's not well-spoken -- if she isn't able to carry on an interesting conversation that shows education and a knowledge of culture/pop culture -- she's probably not going to have "interest" staying power with me. That probably sounds snotty, but it's true. Mousy conversationalist? Turnoff.
b) If she's rude to service people, I'm outta there. Being an asshole to the waitstaff, or blowing up at an usher ... I don't have time for that kind of crap. She may be mind-blowing in bed, but if I can't stand her outside of bed, why bother?
c) If she lacks any style when it comes to kissing, it's gonna be a tough row to hoe. Lips that just lay there, seem "thin," hesitant, or a liplock without the flair for the dramatic: Better start lining up a Craigslist ad in a hurry, babe.
2) Pick an animal that best displays your personality. :)
Well, I hate to go for the obvious here, but probably the dog. The one always mounting your leg. Not that I walk around doing this to everything that moves (but that does create a hilarious workplace image, doesn't it?) ... It's just that, in my head, that's the way I feel. Quick to distract. Easy to entertain. Plays hard, then sleeps hard (but never for long enough, it seems). Probably a 9-month-old puppy, I'm thinking.
3) If your s.o. stopped having sex with you, how long would you stay?
Probably a long time. It's a marriage -- I'm in it for the long haul. But you could bet that I'd be going about doing whatever I could to fix things. Hell, that's why I'm here, blogging. We're not even at a critical point of danger in our relationship -- I mean, we're not at "go get counseling" status or anything like that -- but I did want to put some specific thought toward the feeling I have of being "undersexed," so I'm working on it ... with her in real-life and here on my own.
4) Are you more passive or aggressive when the relationship becomes physical?
I've been passive in the past, probably responding to my partners' signals/body language and too frightened to "push the envelope" without knowing if they would like the more aggressive approach. (And I was probably not open enough to feel comfortable discussing it with them.) But in this relationship, where I feel completely comfortable, a definite aggressive streak has shown up. Fortunately she likes it. And she will even occasionally show signs of returning the favor, which is a nice change-up every once in awhile.
5) Have you ever been INSIDE a store that sold adult themed toys and videos?
What, do I seem like I'm 16? Of course I have. My wife and I have gone several times. Before her, I'd been many times in my 20s as well.
One particular trip to a store was memorable. It was a visit to an adult toystore with the woman I dated before I met my wife. One of those roadside stores -- you know, the ones just off the highway, with the neon signs, and all the pickups and SUVs parked out front. She was driving, and she decided she wanted to see what one of those places looked like, so she pulled off, and in we went.
The stuff seemed even tackier than the product in most places like that. The toys incredibly cheap, the magazines particularly skanky. We didn't stay long, and we certainly didn't buy anything.
But the experience must have done something to my girlfriend. When we got back in the car, she asked me to drive. Not long after getting back on the road, cuddled up to me, pulled my arm around her, and slipped my hand inside her shirt, where she encouraged me to play with her. Before long, she was massaging my crotch, and then she slipped my cock out and gave me roadhead.
It wasn't very good roadhead, sadly. I don't think she was completely comfortable with the situation. It was also incredibly small Geo Metro -- that might have had something to do with it! I remember having to pull off the road for my climax. She finished me and swallowed -- the only time she ever swallowed. I guess she wanted to avoid the mess on her car seats.
She was strangely distant the rest of the night, even after we got back to her place. Just turned over in bed and went to sleep. I'm not sure if the cum made her nauseous, or if the experience made her feel cheap or dirty.... I haltingly inquired about what was going on, and she pretty much made it clear she wasn't talking about it. This was definitely near the end of the relationship.
Not really an "adult store" story, but a memory that branched off from it.
Bonus: What percentage of women do you think are capable of handling being in a "friends with benefits" relationship? How about men?
Oh, definitely a smaller percentage of women than men. The stereotype is that, for (usually young) men, a FWB situation is ideal; for women, it makes them feel like a tramp. I had a nice FWB relationship with a woman who was definitely cool with that. But she was the exception to the rule in my experience. The FWB ended up introducing me to my wife.
I would say 25% of women are capable of handling it. Around 50% of men could handle it. That might be a lower percentage of men than you might expect, but I believe there are a lot of jealous men out there who, I think, would prefer to "tie up" their partner's interests, and FWB doesn't really allow for that. Still, it's much higher than women.
1) What are three mistakes someone could make on the first date with you that would automatically make you turn down a second date with them?
Man, it's been a long time since I've dated. But let me imagine this for a second....
Mmmmm ... back seat of the car ... bra hiked up ... jeans pulled down ... feeling that delectable, wet ....
Oops, sorry. Stay on task, Connor. Okay.
a) If she's not well-spoken -- if she isn't able to carry on an interesting conversation that shows education and a knowledge of culture/pop culture -- she's probably not going to have "interest" staying power with me. That probably sounds snotty, but it's true. Mousy conversationalist? Turnoff.
b) If she's rude to service people, I'm outta there. Being an asshole to the waitstaff, or blowing up at an usher ... I don't have time for that kind of crap. She may be mind-blowing in bed, but if I can't stand her outside of bed, why bother?
c) If she lacks any style when it comes to kissing, it's gonna be a tough row to hoe. Lips that just lay there, seem "thin," hesitant, or a liplock without the flair for the dramatic: Better start lining up a Craigslist ad in a hurry, babe.
2) Pick an animal that best displays your personality. :)
Well, I hate to go for the obvious here, but probably the dog. The one always mounting your leg. Not that I walk around doing this to everything that moves (but that does create a hilarious workplace image, doesn't it?) ... It's just that, in my head, that's the way I feel. Quick to distract. Easy to entertain. Plays hard, then sleeps hard (but never for long enough, it seems). Probably a 9-month-old puppy, I'm thinking.
3) If your s.o. stopped having sex with you, how long would you stay?
Probably a long time. It's a marriage -- I'm in it for the long haul. But you could bet that I'd be going about doing whatever I could to fix things. Hell, that's why I'm here, blogging. We're not even at a critical point of danger in our relationship -- I mean, we're not at "go get counseling" status or anything like that -- but I did want to put some specific thought toward the feeling I have of being "undersexed," so I'm working on it ... with her in real-life and here on my own.
4) Are you more passive or aggressive when the relationship becomes physical?
I've been passive in the past, probably responding to my partners' signals/body language and too frightened to "push the envelope" without knowing if they would like the more aggressive approach. (And I was probably not open enough to feel comfortable discussing it with them.) But in this relationship, where I feel completely comfortable, a definite aggressive streak has shown up. Fortunately she likes it. And she will even occasionally show signs of returning the favor, which is a nice change-up every once in awhile.
5) Have you ever been INSIDE a store that sold adult themed toys and videos?
What, do I seem like I'm 16? Of course I have. My wife and I have gone several times. Before her, I'd been many times in my 20s as well.
One particular trip to a store was memorable. It was a visit to an adult toystore with the woman I dated before I met my wife. One of those roadside stores -- you know, the ones just off the highway, with the neon signs, and all the pickups and SUVs parked out front. She was driving, and she decided she wanted to see what one of those places looked like, so she pulled off, and in we went.
The stuff seemed even tackier than the product in most places like that. The toys incredibly cheap, the magazines particularly skanky. We didn't stay long, and we certainly didn't buy anything.
But the experience must have done something to my girlfriend. When we got back in the car, she asked me to drive. Not long after getting back on the road, cuddled up to me, pulled my arm around her, and slipped my hand inside her shirt, where she encouraged me to play with her. Before long, she was massaging my crotch, and then she slipped my cock out and gave me roadhead.
It wasn't very good roadhead, sadly. I don't think she was completely comfortable with the situation. It was also incredibly small Geo Metro -- that might have had something to do with it! I remember having to pull off the road for my climax. She finished me and swallowed -- the only time she ever swallowed. I guess she wanted to avoid the mess on her car seats.
She was strangely distant the rest of the night, even after we got back to her place. Just turned over in bed and went to sleep. I'm not sure if the cum made her nauseous, or if the experience made her feel cheap or dirty.... I haltingly inquired about what was going on, and she pretty much made it clear she wasn't talking about it. This was definitely near the end of the relationship.
Not really an "adult store" story, but a memory that branched off from it.
Bonus: What percentage of women do you think are capable of handling being in a "friends with benefits" relationship? How about men?
Oh, definitely a smaller percentage of women than men. The stereotype is that, for (usually young) men, a FWB situation is ideal; for women, it makes them feel like a tramp. I had a nice FWB relationship with a woman who was definitely cool with that. But she was the exception to the rule in my experience. The FWB ended up introducing me to my wife.
I would say 25% of women are capable of handling it. Around 50% of men could handle it. That might be a lower percentage of men than you might expect, but I believe there are a lot of jealous men out there who, I think, would prefer to "tie up" their partner's interests, and FWB doesn't really allow for that. Still, it's much higher than women.
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.
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."
Damn.
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....
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."
Damn.
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.
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.
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