Re: Wonderful Life With My Gorgeous Hotwife (revisited)
Posted: Sun Mar 05, 2023 10:02 am
by john jasson
Anyway, it’s done. After years of teasing and repeated playful threats, my loving wife and the best, sweetest, loveliest girl in the whole wide world has denied me penetrative sex with her indefinitely in favour of her older lover and Master. I admit it’s a shock I didn’t really see coming. In the following days she’s very sympathetic to my feelings, but I am quite taken aback at how adamant she is about this course after wavering on it for so long that I’d concluded she’d never do it. She’s made it crystal clear to me that she wants it to be an open-ended arrangement too. She says it’s not for ever, but she flatly refuses to put a deadline on it. She says she wants it and she’s made up her mind to do it. She’s only claiming the total freedom to explore her sexual self that I promised her many times in the grip of my own deeply ingrained fixation about sharing her, and she’s convinced I’m going to get as much out of it as she will. I’m not arguing. The awful truth is, despite many misgivings, I think it’s hot as fuck.
It’s lunatic to say I’m now enjoying it, I suppose. How can you enjoy not having something you’ve grown to love and need, right? It’s lunatic to say it, but at the same time, it’s not entirely inaccurate. To love her unconditionally, to want her so much, and be forbidden by her from having her as every man needs to have his woman, or even seeing her body intimately, is a very powerful state of mind to be suddenly plunged into after so many years of plenty. The reality of unfulfilled need and wanting is a thunderous pressure on my brain that I never foresaw through all of my earlier fantasies about it happening. Clearly, I am able to eroticise the experience to a point or I wouldn’t cope at all. In fact it’s a massive, outrageously stimulating, glorious mindfuck of balanced agony and ecstasy that consumes me over the ensuing months, and one that I will genuinely cherish the memory of for the rest of my life. True to form for us, of course, things aren’t so straightforward as they might seem to outsiders. As in everything we do, there is a strong element of connivance. A conspiracy between us to be outrageous is at work. We’ve always had lots of shared interests, and we usually view things the same way. It’s one of the great strengths in our partnership. Over most of our time together, planning Sherrie’s descent into submission to a certain sort of strong, arrogant man has become another of our shared fascinations. We’ve developed it from fantasy into a fulfilled mission now, and we both get off on it in thought and deed. I have to accept my denial as a natural by-product and consequence of that same vibe.
Sometimes she can seem very regretful about it all and can’t stop apologising, so I have to comfort her. When I’m home, we kiss, we cuddle, we love regularly. All the time, really. We do all of our usual couple stuff that binds us. It’s only normal for us, though it’s reassuring too. Sometimes in a reflective moment, she’ll venture that she’s scared of this deepening vortex of our twisted sexualities that we’ve become embroiled in. I’ve caught her a little weepy about it on several occasions, and I’ve dried her tears with a kiss and a hug. For the most part though, almost always, she revels in holding it over me, pointedly refusing me access where I was formerly welcomed with open arms while she wears that speciality ice cold look and evil smirk. She knows exactly what it does to me when she rubs my nose in her infidelity, and she likes to arouse me with it. Even if I’m outwardly trying to resist my dark urges, she never fails to turn me on by flaunting her faithlessness and my denial. Sometimes she will torment me to blissful, shattering climaxes with her fingers, tongue and sheer inventiveness, and other times she will keep me in ball-breaking frustration for hours of acute stimulation without release at the end. She knows I crave her treatment every bit as much and as helplessly as she craves Geoff’s, and if she’s really in the mood to show no mercy, she can be every bit as cold hearted as he is when he’s punishing her. She isn’t fooling when she says he’s taught her a lot about BDSM.
Despite the fact that I have more than three years of her affair lodged in my head by now, she’s definitely taken it to whole new levels since submitting first to his more profound domination of her and now with her sexual exclusivity to him, and it sometimes feels to me like the former has led to the latter in her brain. Neither he nor I know how long this exclusivity might last, and I suspect she enjoys the power rush of having that over both of us despite her subservience to him in everything else.
As might be imagined, it’s hardest to deal with when I’m travelling on business. For me it’s one more thing to cope with while I’m away. Before, I always knew that I would soon be home sharing warm exquisite sex and making one flesh with her, but I don’t have that comfort to cling to anymore. Only her master is getting the privilege. Nowadays, I often lie awake in hotel beds hundreds of miles from home maybe having received a joyful text from her saying she is on her way to spend the weekend with him, or maybe having heard nothing at all. It can be tough, and she’s informed me gleefully that she’s staying over most nights at his now during my business trips. Whether he’s plowing her with aggressive sex, or humiliating her as his surrendered plaything I have no idea, but I do know she will be on cloud nine with him, eating all of it up. I’m happy for her because I love her. I’ve seen the scale of her elation, and I don’t want to spoil things. I’ve assured her I’m good with it, and she’s taken me at my word. I’ve told her it excites me when she follows her basest inclinations without fear or question, and it’s no lie. I don’t dwell on the angst when I tell her though. After all, she is looking after me in her pretty unique way, and she promises me that we are still rock solid and nothing can harm us. I mean, I’m sure men would kill for the physical ecstasy she’s giving me short of full sex with her. For a fact, she’s putting a lot more effort and imagination into what she’s doing to me than most vanilla wives would ever dream of putting into sex with their husbands. Those hot sessions and our idyllic loving interludes when I’m home with her are my insurance and my strength.
I’ve kept my solemn promise and gone along with everything, intrigued to see where it takes us. I haven’t tried seriously to cross the boundaries she put down that morning when she first told me I was denied, because the whole thing is so outrageously thrilling to us both, incomprehensible though I know it must seem to many. We might be playing around in bed, kissing, tickling, holding each other tight, and I might test her resolve by moving my fingers onto the swell of her breast at the edge of her bra, or make to slide a hand up her thigh and into her knickers. It’s beyond doubt she would love me to fuck her, and her body’s showing all the signs, but she will immediately freeze rigid, grab my wrist to stop me and shut things down before we get too carried away. Full disclosure: I would love to fuck her too, of course, but part of me would be really disappointed if she didn’t refuse me. It would break the spell and ruin our crazy, crazy mind game.
S: No. I don’t want to, John. That’s not for you anymore. I’ve told you.
J: Don’t you want me, Sher? It’s been so long.
S: No. I don’t want you to do that. Can we just carry on cuddling and talking? You know I need lots of loving and understanding from you on this journey.
J: But when will you want me again, sweetheart?
S: I don’t know. I can’t even think about it while I remain so committed to my Master. It’s really strong with him right now. I’m so sorry, John.
She’s been careful dressing and changing in private too, adhering strictly to her cover up rule, and I’ve not seen her fully naked since that fateful day months ago. Whenever we play, she’s always in her bra and knickers at least, and often a dressing gown too or sometimes she’s been fully clothed. When she’s just in basic underwear, I’ve seen that she is wearing his submissive’s belly chain all the time, so that’s another constant demonstration of where her mind is at. I’ve noticed it gets her particularly hot to be dressed while she has me naked with my cock at her mercy, and it strikes me there’s a parallel with the way Geoff will often have her nude and himself clothed during his domination play with her. Maybe she’s mentally projecting those scenes into our bedroom with her as the dom.
Her hands and mouth have been working overtime to keep me boiling over in my desire for her. True to her word as she promised at the beginning of our coitus hiatus, she never, ever neglects me. The extreme edging sessions that I’ve always relished have been frequent. Probably more so than ever. She knows my weakness for her skills in this, and when she has me teetering on the brink of orgasm, repeatedly pulling me back, she can even get me to admit how superb she is at manipulating me during her affair. I’ll say anything, grant any wish if only she will get hold of my dick again and do something, anything, to it. I love the sexual arrogance she can display to me, and my, how she’s milking it nowadays – both my dick and the situation:
J: Fuck, Sherrie, what you can do to this cock is awesome!
S: Of course. I love cocks. I told you I would never neglect him. Tell me I’m the best, babe.
She’s addressing the words to my cock rather than my face, and all of the time she’s still teasing me over her master and her denial of me.
J: You are the best. There isn’t a woman on Earth who could do what you do to me.
S: You like this don’t you, babe?
She’s stimulating the bladder sensitive zone right near the top of my cock.
J: Fuck, yeah. So help me!
S: Do you want me to keep doing it until I make you pee all over yourself, John? Just like I promised I would. I’m going to do it, you know. I’m going to make you so helpless and get you so out of control that you’ll wet yourself one of these days, and I won’t give you any warning that it’s coming.
J: Fuck, woman!
I can hardly form the words, almost incoherent with the sensations I’m enduring. And she’ll move to a different part of the head, subsuming my bladder urge in another surge towards the edge of ejaculation. Then back to the beginning and she’s patiently repeating the whole process with her divine butterfly touch.
S: Would you like me to carry on with this all night, John? Until I send you totally insane? Or should I leave you frustrated and go to my Master? I can text him now if you like. At least you could wank off to relieve yourself then. I know that’s what you’d do. What’s it to be, babe? Your call.
By now I’m writhing around, delirious on my back, almost in foetal position, my knees up near my shoulders held there by my hands, one beneath each thigh as she teases and torments my enormous, blood engorged, exposed cock so exquisitely with her hands and mouth. My cock that hasn’t seen the inside of her or even the inside of a condom for months. She has it pulled down between my raised legs now, parallel with the duvet I’m lying on as she toys with it mercilessly and looks up at me. I love this, so much. I really honestly do crave this treatment.
S: Would you like to fuck me, John?
I’m totally breathless by now. She hasn’t let up on my cock, but she’s changed the spot getting the attention again, and my bladder is on the very brink of letting go.
J: Yeah, Get your fucking knickers off you evil little bitch.
She continues crooning to me in her softest seductive voice. Then she takes her hand away, and my poor desperate penis rebounds upward towards my stomach, twitching its dismay and jerking in thin air at the sudden lack of contact as she giggles. She’s not for bending. She just stares at me, her eyes on fire with lust as I pant rapidly, my lungs gasping for air.
S: No, John. I’m only teasing you. You know you can’t do that. I like not fucking you. You’re so much fun to torment, and I’d miss that terribly if I went back to fucking you. I’m going to see how long you can go without. It gets me really hot for my Master. My body is only for him now, babe. I so love what he does to me with all of his muscular strength. He keeps me so satisfied with his fat cock, babe. I crave the way he stretches me as he hammers it way up inside me.
J: God, Sherrie! Please.
S: I went around to his at lunch time today and I told him I’ve still not had sex with you. He was so pleased with me that he bludgeoned me with his monster for twenty minutes, and he’s still leaking out of me even now. That’s how much he fills me up. I didn’t tell you earlier. I wanted to keep it as a surprise for you for tonight. Didn’t you notice the big smile on my face this afternoon in the office? Actually, it’s a wonder you didn’t hear me screaming from five miles up the road while he was doing me! Sex with him is soooo hot for me, and it puts him in such a good mood when I tell him you’ve still not fucked me.
J: Fucking hell, you dirty little slut!
Her sexy giggle fills my head again.
S: I wish I could let you feel how wet I still am right now with him and me combined in my cunt, babe, but my Master wouldn’t approve. And I like him being in charge of me. I think I want him to rule me sexually forever, I might even tell him so. Do you think I should tell him I’m exclusive to him for life? He might put me in a chastity belt! Would you like that, John, do you think? Maybe you would!
J: I said get your fucking knickers off before I take them off for you!
She’s enjoying tormenting me more than I ever dreamed she would. She’s truly in her element in this role. I’m still in position, legs in the air, hoping she’ll resume her mesmerising attention to my dick, but she bends forward and grabs my balls instead squeezing them in her palm.
S: No! Sir says I shouldn't fuck you and you know I won't ever disobey him. I told you. You can fuck another woman if I’m not keeping you satisfied. It’s all right. I don’t mind. But you can’t have me, John. No matter how many times you ask or how much you demand, I won’t let you. And you know you’d be in big trouble if you forced me. You know it’s my legal right to refuse you.
She increases the pressure on my balls a little to emphasise the point, but then lets them go, and pulls my cock towards her so that it’s beneath my raised legs and horizontal with the bed once more. She’s lightly licking just the very tip and catching lots of precum.
J: There isn’t any other woman on the planet as exciting as you whether you’re fucking me or not.
She pauses.
S: Of course there isn’t. That’s why you’re intoxicated with me, isn’t it? Aren’t you proud of your own little Sherrie going out all alone and finding herself such a dominant Master like you always wanted her to? And then treating you this way into the bargain?
It’s not a one off. I admit that I often contrive this scene purposely to provoke her refusal, and then we really ramp up the theatrics. She is well aware of what I’m doing, and she plays right up to it and beyond. We read each other through some sixth sense communication, and we make it hot for both of us. Sometimes she will confide that she has a butt plug in place. There’s no way I can check, but I believe her, and we both know he'll be opening that luscious arse up very soon with his twice as wide cock as he’s been doing at least once every week with enemas and the whole dominance paraphernalia for months now. Similarly, she will also report that she has some raised caning marks too, but she won’t show me because they’re on parts of her that only he is allowed to see.
When we come down from the heights of intensity, we sometimes lie in bed and discuss it more calmly. She’ll say she loves sinking into that degree of submission to him, and taking him into her anally is the summit of it for her now, just the way he trained her to see it. A powerful recurring theme for her is that he takes all responsibility and free will away from her. She says it’s like she’s not an adult person anymore, and she simply revels in the escapism from normality that comes over her by being totally in his hands at his will. He’s told her it’s purely natural animal behaviour for a female under the control of a strong male where she ought to be, and she’s very malleable to the ways he wants her to think, I find. She’s come a long way in that sense and it’s still surprising and disconcerting to both of us in our more sober moments.
As she’s grown more accustomed to the enemas and his regular anal possession of her, he’s taken her in several different positions where he can control the speed and force of penetration rather than letting her ride him and take him at her own pace as he allowed at her ‘initiation’. As time has gone by, he likes her to suffer a little more stress and discomfort, as befits his submissive. He’s made this clear to her, and she’s proud to be able to meet his exacting demands and still get off on it all, including the acute embarrassment of him holding her hand as he personally directs her final evacuations on the toilet. A big part of her submission is that she is granted, and expects, no dignity whatsoever. One of his more familiar routines seems to be placing her over the width of the vaulting horse after she’s taken and discharged her enemas. She’ll probably have a ball gag gorging her mouth open, and perhaps a spreader bar at her ankles forcing her legs wide as he fills her arse with his cock and then his semen, often following anal possession up with a caning so she doesn’t forget who’s in charge. Then he may assist her off the horse, and force her down onto her knees, still struggling with the spreader bar, to bow her head to him and try to thank him for mastering her as best she can in incoherent gibberish, courtesy of the “drooling device”.
I get the impression that their favourite way of all to perform the ritual now is in missionary as she lies on a pile of gym mats. Her yoga trained suppleness means she can raise her legs to bring her knees over and almost beside her ears. The position seems to feature a lot in her playbacks to me as time goes by, and her enthusiasm to be taken in this fashion is manifest to me.
G(toS): Come on, girl. Extend yourself. Get those knees down to the mat by your head. I want you wide open and at the best angle for your anal submission.
S(to me): He tries to get me to flex my muscles that bit more each time while he’s kneeling in front of me on the floor watching.
G(to S): Hands down to your buttocks, one on each cheek and spread them wide. You know what I want to see. Rip yourself open down that centre perforation and show me your full female shame. Come on, wider. Get that dirt hole open too. Let me see that it’s properly clean for your Master.
S(to me): At the same time as I’m pulling myself open, I feel him lubing up my crack and poking a finger up my bum with the oil. Never fails to make my stomach turn over in embarrassment. I’m in a perfect position for him to take me sexually too, but I know too well I’m not getting any of that. He could see how hot I was for him there, but there was no chance. My lips were swollen and parted, the channel gaping open to him, but all he did was run his fingers up and down in it, gather a dollop of my overflowing creamy secretions and rub them on the end of his cock.
G(to S): I can smell your need for me, girl. You can’t control your desire and you can’t hide the extent of it from me. That’s good.
S(to G): No, Master. I can’t control myself. Only you can do that.
J: Fuck. Sher. What a wild picture!
S(to me): And he’s having a right go at me while he has his finger up my butt too.
G(to S): That day we first met at the pool. When you came into the office all superior, talking down to me, thinking you were someone special. I looked at you once, and I knew in an instant I was going to humble you. My God, you needed it, girl. If you could have pictured then what’s happening now. You, lying here at my mercy, totally submitted, about to take me up your anus in abject surrender. You wouldn’t have believed it possible in a million years, would you?
S(to G): No, I wouldn’t Master. Thank you for teaching me.
G(to S): And now you are happy to confess that only I can control you. What a turnaround.
S(to me): The mats I’m on have me just at the right height for him, and he’s lined his cock up to my bum hole, pushed forward and started stretching the orifice with it. I always have to brace myself as it starts to hurt on his first attempt at insertion. It’s already very tender after the enema nozzle’s been up there twice. He just looks me in the eye, and I look back into his, and that’s when it really starts to eat into my brain that he’s mastering me so deeply and thoroughly. It’s why I love submitting in missionary position. I adore seeing him looking down on me and getting that mad abandoned feeling, possibly even more than I crave vaginal sex with him.
J: It’s a mind as much as a physical stimulation.
S(to me): Oh yeah. Actually more so, I reckon. I regularly climax solely from the humiliation of the power exchange from me to him. I always feel it happening in those moments when he’s finally fully inside me the back way, and he stares his steely superior stare into my eyes before he even starts to move. We just hold the position and that’s when my whole spirit deserts me and I’m left as a husk ensnared in his possession. By the time he starts working it in and out of me, I feel I’m just a minor appendage to his powerful body as he gathers pace and strength at last, stroking his fat cock up my rear end, but I’m an appendage that is filled with a happy delirium as he puts me totally in my place. Then I’m orgasming for my life, moaning, screaming, then breathless like it’s the last day of my existence, but I have to hang in to take as much as I possibly can from this coupling. It’s freaky as fuck, but I’m hooked. You know I’m hooked, babe. I hope you can understand why, from the intensity I describe, that I can’t escape it; don’t want to escape it.
J: Red hot, sweetheart. Burning. I think I’m hooked too, so certainly I understand. So long as you’re safe. I worry of course, but I can see you’re so animated and ecstatic that I’d never want to stand in your way even if I could.
S(to me). I know, and I’m sorry. I love you, John, but this thing, whatever it is, really has a hold over me that I relish. I’ve no right to expect you to be so understanding, but I don’t want you to worry. I’m fine, but I honestly think I’ve become what I was afraid I’d become when it all started. I still don’t have a word for what that is though. I know the next bit is going to shock you even more, but it’s all right. Please don’t worry.
J: Am I not immune to shock from things you do by now?
S: Wait and see before you prejudge. After it was over and he pulled out, I needed the loo badly, but he’d told me to stay there in the same position, on my back with my knees up and over by my ears, and he’s just looking at me. Taking in the sight of his exhausted conquest, I suppose. I couldn’t say anything because of the ball gag, but I had the panic alarm I that’s always close by me when I’m gagged, so I pushed the button for the first time ever.
G(to S): What?
S(to me): I gesticulated I needed to pee.
G(to S): No. Stay there.
S(to me): It was really urgent, so I’m grunting as much, as best I can around the gag, and holding my crotch.
G(to S): Stay there. I’ll sort it.
S(to me): He went out of the room, but a moment later he was back.
G(to S): Keep absolutely still, breathe steadily, look up at the ceiling, not at me.
S(to me): He’s kneeling before me again, and he’s fumbling between my lips down there for a minute or two, right near my clit, brushing it a time or two, causing shock waves between my continuing arousal and my needing to pee.
J: Oh, welcome to my world! I know that one very well because of a certain young woman!
G(to S): Hold your breath now until you feel a short sharp sting.
S(to me): Suddenly, I’m terrified at what’s happening, and next thing I feel the sting right on my wee hole, and then the weird feeling of something going into me the wrong way. Then it was just discomfort and a bit of chafing down there right where I pass water. Like a mild cystitis feeling. He came up to my face and took the ball gag out of my mouth.
G(to S): Ok now, girl. I’ve solved your toilet problem. You can sit up.
S(to G): What’s that?
S(to me): I forgot to call him Sir but he let it go. I think he could see I was in shock as I put a hand down to my crotch to investigate, only to find a tube coming out of me, and disappearing off the end of the mats. I instinctively tugged at it and that did hurt.
G(to S): Stop that! Don’t pull it or you’ll damage yourself. Have you never been catheterised before?
S(to G): Definitely not!
S(to me): I’m thinking all sorts. What’s he done to me? How can I get free of it? And then I followed the tube down to the floor and there’s a bag at the end if it containing the urine I was so desperate to part with. It was only then I realised that my desperation to pee had gone away.
G(to S): Well you have now, girl. You have a tube draining your bladder, and it’s there until I decide to take it out, so best behave yourself for me, be nice to me and do everything you’re told to.
J: You must have been frantic. That’s too much even for you, surely?
S(to me): Only for a moment until I got my head back together. Then I was back in character if I use my slut actress analogy. He’s in charge, I take what comes, and I’m down into yet another layer of submitting everything to him. I don’t suppose it’s such a leap from the enemas, and I enjoy those now, or at least I enjoy the state of mind they send me into. I certainly felt extremely submissive looking at that tube he fixed between my labia that I had no way of removing, I can tell you. He’s increased his control over me yet again.
S(to G): Have you done this to anyone before, Master?
G(to S): Of course! It’s nothing special. I used to keep my young student submissive catheterised all weekend sometimes. In the end she was begging me to do it. We’d both trained in fitting them properly as part of our course. She actually wanted to do me, but I wouldn’t let her switch our roles that way.
J: Typical! He’s a coward! Likes to hand it out but can’t take it!
S(to me): He taped the tube to my inner thigh with some horrible, very sticky strong tape. Then he put my dress on over my head. He picked the urine bag up off the floor and handed it to me.
G(to S): There you are, girl. Hold it below your bladder so it doesn’t flow back. You can carry that around with you for the rest of the day and sleep with it overnight. That’ll teach you to control your functions when I tell you to, and not to make toilet demands at inappropriate times. I’ll remove it in 24 hours before you leave. Don’t worry. You’ll still be able to take your caning with it in. You can have sex too. My former submissive was always multi-orgasmic when we had sex while she was tubed.
J: Jesus. And did you have it in all that time? Overnight? Did the tube hurt coming out?
S(to me): I did, and no, it was all right really. More the mind game; always the mind game. He actually strapped it to my shin after making me walk around bent over like an old woman for an hour to keep it at the right level below my bladder. Like with most of BDSM, it’s mainly a thing of the brain. I even slept well while it was in me with the bag fixed to the bed frame, like I remember my granny having one when she was in hospital. I curled up with all my masochistic demons satisfied beyond measure, I think. He eventually took it out by deflating it with a syringe, and then it just slid out the same way it went in. Just chafed a little bit. It felt hot down there for about half an hour afterwards and the first time I had to pee, then back to normal.
J: Fucking hell. That really is freaky and weird. Would you take it again if he said so?
S(to me): He’s my Master, babe. Of course I would. What would be the point if I could pick and choose as he tests me? Looking back on it, yeah. It was an experience that put me in a place I hadn’t been before. In the end, that’s why I’m doing it. For the rush of new experiences and emotions. Yeah. Sure I’ll take it again.
She’ll often feed me snippets of heavy sado-masochistic scenes while tormenting and stimulating my cock. Other times, like with the catheter episode, it’s far too intense to do anything but simply lie together in the dark while she talks, unburdens, and I listen and hold her, comforting her and encouraging her to confide more. We’ve both approached orgasm on occasion just while thought processing the stuff that’s going on in our lives, and particularly hers. It’s probably pure madness, but it’s as hot as hell for us even after all this time.
She smiles with huge satisfaction as she gets off on denying me and telling me all about the latest debauchery she’s been getting up to directed by Geoff. She loves to describe stuff he makes her do. We can’t explain our mentality. It all just plays into the weirdness of us, and that’s really all there is to it.
G(toS): I hope you’ve been faithful to me since we last met.
She can tell him truthfully that she has if you take the Clintonesque definition.
S(toG): Yes Sir. I have. He hasn’t even seen my body. I’ve told him I’m really tired from the demands of the business.
G(toS): You must keep it that way. I don’t want you having sex with him.
S(toG): I’ll try my hardest, Sir. You know it’s difficult. I’m married, and I mustn’t arouse his suspicion. I have too much to lose. I love John, then there’s the business and everything. I’m sorry I can’t guarantee, but I promise I will do my best.
She says he can come across quite needy about her being faithful to him, but it’s obvious that she delights in his approval and praise when she tells him she has maintained her fidelity for another period of days or weeks.
There are some lighter interludes too. One interesting conversation that sticks in the mind among many:
J: Does he ask you what my reaction is to not having sex with you.
S: Never. I don’t believe he even likes to think about you. In his world, I’m his to do as he pleases with and that’s it.
J: Well, have you ever toyed with his cock and teased him to distraction like you do me?
S: Not really… Well, I’ve kind of tried to. I mean, it comes so natural to me! Give me a cock and I have to tease it, but he always stops me. The first time way back, when I started tonguing the head “wrong side”, I think he felt the conflict between the semen and the urine urges deep down inside him. He seemed overcome for some reason, and he suddenly put his hands together and started praying.
I laugh out loud.
J: What?!! Are you serious?!!
S: Yeah. ‘Course I am. I must admit that I had to stifle a laugh too when he did that.
J: Fucking hell, Sher. And this is your big macho dominant master? And he’s praying to his god because he can’t cope with what his little inferior submissive woman is doing to his prick? Fuck me! What a fraud!
S: So he told me not to do it anymore, and not to take the initiative because that’s his job. And stop being mean about my Master. I keep telling you!
J: Fuck. He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on. Just when you think things can’t get any more incredible. That’s fucking hilarious. Why didn’t you tell me before?
She allows herself the merest hint of a smile.
S: Stop it! You’re being naughty again about my Master. I knew exactly what your reaction would be, and that’s why I didn’t tell you back then. But I must admit, I thought at the time that I’d love to have been a fly on the wall at his confession the following week.
J: Oh yeah. Dirty old priest would have loved that one. “I think she’s the devil incarnate sent to claim me, father.” “Yes, my son. You need to be very careful. See you same time next week, don’t be late!” Bloody hell! I tell you. I think you are going to put both him and me, and maybe the priest too, in the nuthouse, lady!
S: Yeah. Maybe he thinks I really do embody the devil!
J: He’s not the fucking only one! I’ve often wondered myself. I can’t imagine a bigger temptation given to a man than you. Look, Sher, I honestly can’t take any more of this tonight. You’re just too much. I’m going to make a cuppa. Find one of your soppy videos for us to watch and snuggle down with. Let’s chill out.
S(to me): Lightweight!
I get up, still smiling and shaking my head at her.
S(to me): I’m sorry, babe. I’m really so bad. Biblical proportions bad, eh?
But she’s got a silly grin across her face. Of course she gets how ludicrous the conversation has become.
J: You’re one crazy fucking bitch, I know that much! I’m so glad I found you because I must be barking fucking mad too. Imagine looking back on this shit when we’re 80?
She doesn’t reply. Just blows me a pretty kiss.
As I brew the tea, I’m reflecting that Geoff must be nuts to be declining any of her wondrous little sex tricks. It strikes me that he’s not the strong man both he and she think he is. He’s weak in feeling he has to curtail her instincts that way and beg forgiveness from a higher authority. At the same time he’s such a lucky bastard to have found a much younger woman so fit in every sense and so up for submitting to everything he wants to put her through. But even now, he isn’t as lucky as me. She’s my special one and I’m hers. Despite a growing uneasiness at times, I’m addicted to what she’s doing with him and to me. We’re still deeply in love despite everything. We tell each other all the time, and our unconventional marriage is simply sublime. In the end, beyond all other considerations, he may be her master for the time being, but I’m the one who has her heart and soul for ever.
Aren’t I?