1 hour ago
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
We both lay very still for awhile in each other's arms. There was only the sounds of our breathing, the soft James Taylor music on the stereo and the crackle of the fire. I was pretty much resigned to our date coming to an end when I felt her hand stroking mine. Then, her hand worked its way down my arm to my chest, stroking and kneading, playing with my nipples before working its way down my belly. Her fingers twirled and played with my pubic hair, occasionally straying to my inner thighs but then returning to my pubic hair. I was hard, rock hard. She hadn't touched my genitals at all but I could feel my body shifting gears. It was like the "whoosh" that occurs when a lit match is put near a gas fireplace with the gas turned on.
I still didn't know where this was going. She continued to play with my pubic hair, massage and knead my pubic mound and inner thighs for the what seemed the longest time. It was like flipping a coin and having it land on its edge and roll - teetering one way and then the other. I could tell she was having fun with me. What I didn't know is whether even she knew which way this was going to go or whether she was just winging it. I remained perfectly still, not wanting to spoil whatever it was she was doing. Only my rapid breathing and, of course, the steel rod sticking straight up from my crotch, gave me away.
Her next move was to very gently cup my balls. She held her hand very still except for her thumb which lazily grazed up and down the underside of the root of my shaft. It was maddening. My male sexual drive desperately wanted her to speed up, to get to my dick and get me off. The rest of me, experienced now with the rhythm and sensations of tease and denial, was enjoying the game and admiring her skill. The pleasure I felt was mainly between my ears as the tension of not knowing what she would do next and whether or not I would be able to cum played out. Looking back on it later, I recognized it as the purest form of dominance and submission you could imagine. I was like a liquid, taking the shape of whatever vessel in which my wife decided to pour me. For those exquisite few minutes, I had no shape, no will of my own.
After what seemed an eternity, my wife smiled and shifted her hand to my shaft, moving up its solid length before finding the tip with her thumb which she used to spread the copious pre-cum fluid I was leaking. I gave a loud gasp of pleasure at the first firm stroke of hand as it moved back downward to the root. She held her rod filled fist hard against my groin and waggled my dick a few times before sliding back up again.
Little flames of pleasure seem to burst out and spread all along my shaft.
"That's a "7," I exclaimed, using our number game to report that I was getting close to orgasm. In one of our tease and denial games, I report my arousal using a number from 1 to 10. It usually takes ten or fifteen minutes of stroking to get me to a "7." I was there already on the first stroke. An "8" means I am very close to the point of no return and if you don't want me to cum, you should remove all stimulation from my dick. As you might guess, a "9" means I've passed the point of no return and will orgasm no matter what. Removing all stimulation at that point results in a "ruined orgasm." I've never gotten to "10" during a tease and denial game but a few times I have shouted it out as I was cumming after getting my wife's permission, kind of as a joke and to emphasize just how intensely pleasurable the orgasm was.
She responded to my "7," by removing her hand from my dick and then sliding up and over me, straddling my hips. My slightly curved penis stood straight up between up like a rhino horn, except this horn had a definite little bob and weave going on as it danced to the throb of my accelerated heart rate. She looked down at me, eyes locking onto mine as she smiled. It was a weird smile. It was all teeth and no sound.
She bent over at the waist and reached for the wand vibrator which was above and to the left of me. Her breasts dangled over my face, those magnificent nipples swollen and erect. I was aching to take them into my mouth but resisted that almost overwhelming urge. This was her game and I didn't want to do the slightest thing to knock it off course. Vibrator in hand, she straightened back up and smiled that weird, toothy smile again before she clicked it on the lowest speed. Ignoring my dick, she slowly placed the head of the vibrator against her pussy. The reaction was immediate as she gasped, sucked air through clenched teeth and tensed her thighs. She immediately threw her head back as she uttered a guttural
For several minutes she rode my thighs, bouncing up and down, enjoying the reawakening occurring in her groin. She smiled as she slid up closer to my dick, then reached out and gripped it firmly at the base before bending it towards her pussy. She pulled the wand away from her clit and substituted the head of my dick. She laughed as she rubbed it up and down her slit, bouncing and sliding around on my thighs. I tensed as the pleasure of her touch immediately jacked me back up to a "7" but this time I remained silent about it.
It was a visual feast for a starving man. She was completely into the sexual moment, rubbing me against her slit as she sighed loudly, muttering "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God." She must have sensed I was getting close because she released me and left my penis quivering in the moist air between us. She laughed as she replaced it with her buzzing wand vibrator. I still didn't know how this was going to end and whatever continuing, rational consciousness I had wrestled with the question of whether I should ask permission to cum. My male sex drive desperately wanted to cum and fast, like at that very and every successive moment. It wanted to hear a definite "yes." The rational side of me reasoned that the answer could be a definite "no," and what was worse, my very act of asking could have tilted it to a "no" when it might have been a "yes" if I let it play out.
It was like a problem in Quantum Mechanics - where a truly undetermined state of an atomic particle becomes determined simply by the act of looking at it. It was Gaming Theory at its most personal level. I reasoned that as long as I didn't ask, there remained at the least the possibility that I would be allowed to cum. Also, I had to admit that there was a part of me that truly relished not knowing. It gave me pleasure to be utterly in the hands of my wife. The decision of when to let me know when and whether I would be cumming belonged to her. It was not mine to take.
Of course, these thoughts flashed through my mind in a few seconds; just enough time for my wife to raise herself up as far as she could on her knees, grasp my joy stick and lower herself on it so just the head entered her warm, wet portal. She clicked the vibrator up to its second speed and shrieked in joy as soon as she touched it to her clit. To keep me from sliding in further, she gripped my shaft hard just behind the head with her thumb and forefinger, making the rest of her hand into a fist and supporting it on my pubic mound. I wasn't going anywhere and, perhaps inadvertently, the act of squeezing me just behind the head had the well known effect of stopping the climb of my arousal. It is a technique used on premature ejaculators to keep them from cumming, extending their staying power. She had never done this before - I had never been a premature ejaculator. I can now attest that it works pretty well on non-premature ejaculator too. Where was she picking up these new techniques?
After a brief time, she pulled me out and left me dangling by myself again as she rocked and rolled her way to ecstasy bouncing wildly on my upper thighs, vibrator pressed tightly to her swollen lips. After a short while, she repeated the move - just the head of my dick in her accompanied by the tight pinch behind my dick head. She added a little hip roll and grind as though she was using the head of my dick to spread something inside of her. I felt those hot, soft walls close in around my head and squeeze it gently. This was now beyond wicked - it was diabolical, devilish, insanely arousing and . . . I loved every moment of it.
Again, she pulled me out and held me away with her thumb and forefinger gripping me in the squeeze technique. My dick head was swollen and purplish beyond anything I've ever experienced before. It was like watching an over-inflated balloon expand - it was just a matter of time, a short time, before it popped. But she wasn't quite done with me yet and there was still the distinct possibility that just as I was about to explode, she would say "No, no orgasm for you tonight." After all, I had often reassured her that it was not only okay but very enjoyable for me to be teased to the brink and then denied. Was this going to be some kind of perverse test of my limits - an "Oh yeah, try this denial on big shot," rejoinder to my many reassurances.
These were fleeting thoughts, more feeling and impression than actual, coherent thoughts when she released her two-finger squeeze and wrapped her entire hand around my shaft. My whole body tensed as though I had touched a high voltage line as a wild fire of tingling pleasure rippled and expanded through my body. I was beyond sensitive as my swollen cock leaked pre-cum in a near constant dribble. She held her hand still, not stroking me as she ground her pussy into the vibrator head resting on my thighs just under my balls. It was maddening beyond belief to be in that state of extreme arousal, have her soft but firm hand wrapped around my cock but not stroking it.
At his point, my male sexual drive had pretty much consumed that rational part of me that usually sits back and enjoys the tease and denial game. My entire body was revved up and geared for the big finish. I was like a world class hundred meter sprinter in mid-race, having shifted into high gear, any attempt to stop would have me careening wildly into a humiliating, body beating pratfall. The finish line was there, it was right there, as I looked down at her motionless hand still gripping my cock. I looked up at her face, at her eyes, trying to get some clue as to what she intended to do, but it was no use. Her eyes were closed, her chin tilted up, her face a mask of sexual ecstasy.
She moaned loudly after she clicked the vibrator us to its third speed, jerking spasmodically as she ground down on the vibrator head. I watched as she bounced up high on her knees, hopped forward a bit and shoved my dick into her wet hole and swallowed it completely in one swift move. It took my breath away. I was so surprised that it took a few moments before the intense wave of pleasure hit me. It felt like a rushing stream of pure, insanely intense pleasure rocketed from my lower spine upward, blasting through the top of my head.
There was no stroke, no bouncing up and down or back and forth. I was buried in her hot, velvet wetness, gripped lightly by her soft walls, but she wasn't moving, at least not much. She was grinding in small, slow circles, the head of the vibrator pressed hard into her clit and resting on my swollen balls. In some small space in my sexually besotted mind, I felt the pain in my balls from that vibrator head but it didn't seem to matter. My brain was awash in dopamine and natural opiates. The pain signals were so dwarfed by the pleasure that it barely rose to my attention.
I was silently screaming "Can I Cum? CAN I CUM?!!
But I dared not ask. What if the answer was "no." It was too horrible to contemplate. But resolving the question became more urgent. I could feel that final, hot expansion starting deep in my groin. I was going to cum in less than a minute and being held deep in the confines of her hot, velvet soft pussy, I no longer had the will to stop it. What else could I do at this point but ask? I was about to pop the question (before everything else popped) when I had a sudden inspiration.
"Eight, EIGHT!" I screamed through clenched teeth, alerting her that I was about to cum.
Flashing through my mind in that instant was the calculation that she could tell to "go ahead and cum," or tell me to "hold off," but it didn't require her to make a final decision about my not cumming at all. Even telling me to "hold off" still held the possibility that I would be allowed to cum eventually.
It didn't occur to me that there was a third possibility. She said nothing at all, responding by almost leaping up from her kneeling position astride me, pulling me out of the sweet, sweet Eden of her pussy and letting me go altogether, to bob and weave in the cold air alone, with no stimulation on my shaft at all.
"No, "NO!" I screamed silently, thwarted at the last moment and no further along in solving the all important question of whether I was going to be allowed to cum.
My wife resumed her slow grind, jerking and twitching, moaning in ecstatic pleasure as she reached a kind of orgasmic plateau where she experienced an unbroken series of small, intensely pleasurable orgasms without yet reaching the big finish. Unlike me, my wife seemed in no particular hurry to reach the big finish. She's told me that when she is in that state, she wants it to last forever. The big, final orgasm ends that deliciously pleasurable plateau so she's in no hurry to get there.
"Great," I thought to myself, remembering the conversation.
The room was almost dark by now, the sun having set. The only light came from the fireplace. My wife was silhouetted against that light and looked almost otherworldly in the purity of her sexual power. At that moment, everything else in our life, in our relationship disappeared. She was, in that moment, a sex Goddess in every sense of the term.
I watched and felt her writhing astride my hips for what seemed several minutes before she opened her eyes and looked down at me. A smile spread across of her face. It was a smile of self-knowledge; she understood, perhaps for the first time, truly understood her power over me. She inched forward, eyes locked onto mine until my ramrod, pulsing dick rested against her open slit. She jerked a bit and moaned when she pressed the head of my dick against her clit and held it there. Eyes still locked onto mine, she rose up on her knees and held my quivering cock at the entrance of her hole and stopped.
She was watching me intently for my reaction. I was motionless but I'm sure the desperation was clearly written on my face. I was pleading with my eyes.
She smiled as she dropped down slowly on my shaft, swallowing it again in her hot, tight, gripping wetness. She leaned forward, her luscious breasts dangling in front of me. She clicked the vibrator up to its final, fourth, speed and continued leaning forward. She slipped the head of the vibrator between us, jamming it against my pubic mound, wedged into the space between the base of my shaft and her clit. She lay down on top of me, her damp breasts pressed into my chest. She held the vibrator in place with one hand as she wrapped her other arm around my neck.
I was immediately back up to an "eight." Before I could say anything, she licked my ear and then whispered:
"Now lover now. Cum in me. Cum in me."
There could be no sweeter words in any language.
"Oh God Thank You Hon, Thank You!" I whispered back in a choked voice.
I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly to me. I thrust upward, starting slowly then picked up speed as the sparks of pleasure kept flashing and exploding in my groin and moving up my spine. She ground her hips down, jerking when the vibrator hit certain hot spots. She was quivering in excitement. So was I. Were we in our 50's or our teens. The overwhelming excitement felt much more like our teens.
My thrusting was deep, fast and powerful and she moaned in pleasure with every stroke. I moved one hand to the small of her back and pressed down, forcing her clit to stay in contact with the vibrator and holding my dick deep within her.
"Cum with me, cum with me," she screamed as she started to buck and jerk spasmodically, her hot breath coming in rapid pants.
I was there. The wild fire of the most intense pleasure you can possibly imagine suddenly exploded in a gigantic "Whoosh," followed my an explosion of pleasure that dwarfed everything else I had felt up to that point. It felt as though I was being turned inside out with every bit of pleasure possible rushing past my exposed nerve endings and rushing out of my wildly ejaculating dick. The pleasure rushed up my spine and felt as though it was exploding in my head. I was covered in goose bumps and I had that sensation of my hair standing on end.
We thrashed against each other in wild abandon; both of us in sexual frenzy of ecstasy that seemed to echo off each other and intensify. Hers lasted longer than mine. I went completely limp and motionless and still felt her thrashing on me and heard her shrieking in joy as I passed into that other place - the not quite conscious state of post-orgasmic shut-down.
When I came back into the world, I felt her nestled on top of me. She was still in that other place. Her hair felt wet on my jaw as she breathed deeply and slowly, her arm still curled around my neck. The vibrator was off and had fallen out from between us. We were sealed together by our sweat. Every nook and cranny of my body was filled with her. My softening dick was still in her and I could feel the wetness of our combined juices leaking out of her, running down my shrunken ball sack.
Maybe you can chalk it up to the Oxytocin flooding my brain, but at that moment I felt more in love with my wife than at any time in the past. There was a feeling of quiet joy and contentment that had eluded me for most of my life. More importantly, I knew my wife felt the same way about me. It is so hard to believe that somebody can love you in that way - utterly and completely. To have that and sexual fireworks too is more than I could ever have dreamed possible.
There is a line in one of my favorite movies, Broadcast New, in which the dim witted but polished and handsome newscaster Tom says:
"What happens when your real life exceeds your dreams."
What happens indeed. Well, that's what this blog is for. I'll let you know.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Well, so much for posting again in a couple of weeks. The passage of time continues to accelerate. A month now goes by like a week. I suppose that is a good sign for how happy I am in my life. I can remember many periods in which I was miserable and time just seemed to crawl by. I have entered life's sweet spot and I hope I can stay here for whatever time remains to me.
In my last post, I said I would write about the remainder of our Thanksgiving weekend. It was fabulous on every level. After three weeks of chastity, Milady finally released me after more than an hour of tease and denial that involved numerous brief forays of intercourse in which she controlled the depth of penetration (often, excruciatingly only allowing the head to pass through her portal), all motion (often, she remained still or just slightly rotated her hips) and of course the duration for each time I was allowed in.
The final explosion was mind blowing - a full body orgasm that had me shaking and quivering with pleasure long after the main orgasmic contractions subsided. For one of the few times in the last six months, Milady had me cum first. I remained hard after my orgasm (no mean feat for a 50's gent) and she used me like a dildo, plunging me in when her wand vibrator had just pushed her over the top.
Two days later, after we returned home and while I was still out of my device (at her direction), Milady initiated another play session. She gave every indication that I would be allowed to reach release. She orgasmed first, using me in a rear position to rub her slit with my hard dick and plunge it into herself. When she was finished, she just smiled and said we were done. Then, for the first time, actually directed me to put my chastity device back on. The two year journey from "Vanilla Land" to full-on FLR male chastity lifestyle was complete. I felt like I had won the lottery.
Since then, we have played often. In the last two months her orgasms have outnumbered mine by about three to one. Milady now has no difficulty denying me and feels comfortable keeping me in my device while I give her a Lady's Night, a night devoted to her pleasure. Even though her orgasms outnumber mine, she gives me lots of physical attention in the way of teases. The sleepy Sunday morning ball and perineum massage has become a regular feature of my life. There was a time when she was not comfortable touching me at all when I was in my chastity device. Boy, has that ever changed. We are in such a good place now in every aspect of our relationship.
Our latest play session illustrates this better than anything else. It began with a text message she sent me the day after St. Valentine's day - when, after a nice dinner out, I gave her a Lady's Night that included a full body massage and the happiest of endings. The text message said"
"To my darling K - your assignment for tomorrow is to meet me at the front door at 2 P.M. with a glass of champagne and small bowl of chips. You will have nothing on under your robe and you will have our bed ready for my massage. The rest will be up to me. Oh, I did say nothing under your robe, didn't I. Well, I mean nothing."
My reply was:
"Yes Milady, I am yours to command."
"And try to keep your dick down until then."
To which I responded:
"Oh, I'm trying Milady but I'm at 19 days since my last release and I get hard from even a stray thought of you."
"19 days is it? You've gone 24 days before haven't you?"
"Yes Milady," I answered.
She concluded the exchange with a simple: :-)))
Well, the next day couldn't arrive fast enough. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well that night. The following morning, I went out and bought two bottles of her favorite Champagne and a bag of Kettle chips, her favorite. I also picked up a can of cashews and a couple of bags of peanut M&M's which she also like, just in case.
While I was shopping in the supermarket, I passed the florist department and happened to notice a single, long stemmed, red rose. Two days after St. Valentine's day, it was the only red rose there and it looked a little forlorn - the only one left behind. It looked a little past its prime - the edges of the bloom starting to darken and curl a bit. It would almost certainly have been be tossed in the trash the next day, it's life wasted; never having fulfilled its purpose of making a woman happy or at least keeping a husband or boyfriend out of trouble. As a gift, the single stemmed rose seemed, well, a little tired but it had a beautiful, full bloom with a deep, rich red color. I had another idea for it so I bought it.
Returning home, I went to work cleaning up the house. My wife is something of a clean freak and loves coming home to a clean, neat house. I did the laundry, folded it and put it away; cleaned the kitchen, leaving it shining with uncluttered countertops - just the way she likes it; then swept and vacuumed the floors and carpets. Next, I changed the sheets on our bed, making it up with crisp, white sheets and a matching comforter. My wife loves hotel sex and I think part of it is the feel and comfort of the bedding. This was the closest thing I had to it.
Next, I prepared myself. I took a long bubble bath, soaking and relaxing myself, and cleaning every square inch of me. My wife's clean freak thing applies to me too - she wants me fresh from a shower or bath whenever we play. There is something about a long, hot soak in a bath that relaxes and refreshes me. When I got out, I touched up the shave on and around my genitals, ensuring there is no stubble to irritate her. I had removed my device before the bath per her instructions to have "nothing on" under my robe when she came home so the shave was easy with the well soaked skin (I used my emergency key from the sealed envelope I have with me at all times). When I was done, I felt completely clean and presentable to my wife.
I then went about preparing the bedroom - arranging a flat pillow for her head to rest on and a slightly thicker pillow to support her ankles for the massage. I laid a thick, soft, terry cloth towel lengthwise between the two pillows to give her a warm, comfortable surface to lie on. It also served to protect the sheets from the massage oil and silicon lubricant I would use. I made one more special preparation for the bed which I will describe later. Finally, I lit the fire in our bedroom fireplace, put a James Taylor playlist into a loop on my Iphone and played it through the blue-tooth speakers (isn't technology wonderful), put the bottle of scented massage oil in a bowl of warm water and turned the lights down.
A few minutes before the appointed time of 2 P.M., I opened the Champagne and poured a generous amount into a crystal goblet. I put the glass in the fridge and put the open Champagne in an ice bucket. I then opened the bag of chips and poured some into a small, crystal bowl. I placed the bowl of chips on a small, round, crystal tray and brought the tray to the foyer, placing it on a small shelf by the front door. Then, I took a position by an upstairs window where I could see her car approaching.
I could hardly contain my excitement as I waited for her. My fiercely, hard erection made a tent out of the terry cloth robe I was wearing. The appointed hour came and went without her car appearing. This was not unusual - my wife didn't worry too much about being on time where I was concerned. It occurred to me that she might be late on purpose to build even more excitement and anticipation. If she did, it was working beautifully.
Finally, at a quarter after the hour, she drove up. I quickly scurried downstairs, got the glass of Champagne from the fridge and brought out to the foyer, placing it on the tray with the chips. Then I took the tray and sat on the third step of the stairs facing the front door. When I heard the key in the lock, I bowed my head low and raised my arms up presenting the tray to her as she walked in.
"Your Champagne and chips Milady," I said in my best servant fashion with a little British accent to lend a touch of formality to it.
"You do follow instructions well," she said smiling, walking over to the proffered tray and taking the chilled, crystal goblet.
I looked back up from my head bow and smiled - "Yes Milady, I do."
She smiled back, looked down at where my robe had fallen open:
"And it looks like you're happy to see me," she said, looking down at the head of my cock that was poking through the open front of my robe.
"Yes Milady, very happy," I laughed.
"Come, let's sit for a while and talk. I'm bushed - it was a tough morning."
I followed her into the den where she took a seat on the couch. I sat down next to her. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she talked about her day, taking sips of her Champagne as she unwound, telling me all about it. I listened attentively, repeating back small parts of her story to show I was listening (it's called "active listening") and reflecting back her emotions as she told the story.
After a few minutes, she slid her shoes off and sat back in the corner of the couch, swinging her legs up and resting them on my lap. She often did this when we watched television in the den - it was a very natural position for both of us. As she continued to talk and sip the Champagne, I began massaging her feet through her stockings, working on the soles of her feet with both thumbs, moving and rubbing in opposite circles.
She continued talking, segueing from work to talk about her friends and the problems they were having. I continued to listen actively, repeating small bits or saying "uh-huh" at appropriate times. She drained her glass while half way through a story about the problems one of her girlfriends was having with her husband when she motioned towards me with the empty glass - her signal she wanted a refill. As I got up to get the bottle of Champagne, she took a handful of chips and gobbled them down. Returning with the ice bucket and Champagne, I refilled her glass, returned to my seat, placed her feet on my lap and continued massaging them as she continued the story.
She talked for over an hour, sipping Champagne and munching on chips. She moved easily from friend to friend, then talked about relatives as I refilled her goblet a second time. When she had finished her third glass of Champagne, she took a deep breath and said:
"Well, we better get upstairs before I fall asleep."
I stood first and then took her hand, helping her up from the couch. She smiled as she leaned into me. She wobbled a bit but I held her close to me. With my arms around her waist, she slid one hand under my robe and checked me out. It felt so good to feel her cool, smooth hand on my cock and balls. I had been in my device for almost three weeks. She rubbed and squeezed me gently, smiling and cooing.
"You have been so good, so patient listening to me. I think it's time you got your reward."
She kissed me, gently at first and then more urgently. We exchanged tongues as we explored each other's mouths. She slipped both hands under my robe and ran them up along my ribs to my arm pits then across my chest. As she passed over my nipples, I quivered a bit, growing weak in the knees. My nipples hardened in response. She played with them as I pulled her tightly to me, reaching under the waistband of her skirt and finding those incredibly hard, tight buns of hers.
She broke the kiss first and took my hand, saying "C'mon, follow me."
She led the way up the stairs still holding my hand. When we reached the top of the stairs, she opened our bedroom door, took one step in and gasped loudly, her hand going to her open mouth. In addition to the lighted fireplace, soft music and bed made up and ready for her massage, she saw the rose petals I had spread across the bed - the petals from that last, forlorn rose I had come across and bought that morning.
"Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh My God! What did you do? What did you do? I can't believe it, I can't believe it!" she squealed in delight doubling over laughing with such pleasure and excitement you would have thought she had just won the lottery or I had handed her the keys to a new BMW.
"You are so romantic! I can't believe you did this for me!" she exclaimed unable to get over the surprise and excitement she felt.
"I wanted to make it special for you. I wanted you to remember this."
"I will, I will," she said as she hugged me tightly and kissed me. "I am so lucky, so lucky," she murmured in my ear, and now it was my turn to feel the excitement of having won the lottery or being given a new car. I wanted so badly to please her and now she was saying how lucky she was to have me. I was beaming with pride and pleasure.
Now - for all you husbands and boyfriends out there, that three dollar rose got more reaction and appreciation than any gift I had ever given her and that includes some expensive jewelry over the years. Also, there was something about peeling the rose, petal by petal that was incredibly erotic. Maybe it was my nearly three weeks in chastity, but peeling that rose was like peeling open the folds of my wife's center of pleasure. Each petal soft and velvety on one side, smooth on the other; and every one delicate and deeply flushed red. The scent was sweet but not cloying or overpowering. The works of Georgia O'Keeffe would have a special meaning for me after this.
When she finally broke the long, sensual kiss, she playfully grabbed my crotch and squeezed, saying "I'll be back," as she turned and went into the bathroom. When I heard the shower come on, I finished my preparations around the bed, staging her wand vibrator close at hand and setting the warmed massage oil bottle on a hand towel. When I heard the shower stop and the shower door open and close, I knew Nirvana was getting close. I took off my robe and knelt expectantly on the bed.
My wife came out of the bathroom with a long towel wrapped around her. Her hair was damp and her face glistened. She was smiling as she approached. When she got near the bed, she began removing the towel, then made of show of it, pulling it open and turning hiding herself behind the open towel, then looking over her shoulder and smiling at me. Then she dropped the towel and scampered onto the bed, laying down on the soft, terry cloth towel covered in rose petals.
I bent low and kissed the back of her neck and then nibbled her ear as I whispered "You are so beautiful." She smiled again as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I lifted my leg and straddled her narrow waist, still on my knees, careful not to allow any of my body weight on her. I looked down at her and marveled at her magnificent body. Well into her 50's, she still had the body of a twenty-five year old and weighed a pound or two less than when we had first met more than twenty years ago. A combination of good genes, healthy eating and a regular exercise routine had kept her slim and toned.
I poured a generous amount of massage oil into the palm of my hand. It had cooled to room temperature in the hour and a half since I had placed the bottle of oil into the bowl of warm water. I rubbed my hands together several times to warm up the oil before placing my hands down flat on the middle of her back.
"Breathe deeply," I said. "Relax - let the tension go."
When she had finished exhaling, I moved my hands up the center of her back on either side of her back bone, using moderate pressure, then dug my fingers into the tense deltoid and trapezius muscles between her neck and shoulders. She sighed loudly as my fingers found the tender spots and worked them. I could see the goose bumps rising on her back and arms as I worked my way into them.
"Mmmmm, that feels so good," she murmured.
I responded by leaning over and kissing her softly on her left ear, her head turned to the side, presenting it to me.
I continued the massage, working my way down her back with my fingers until I reached her lower spine, then switched to using the heels of my hands. There is a spot in the center of her lower spine, just above her butt, that actually gives her a jolt of sexual pleasure when it is firmly massaged with the flat of my palm. I massaged that spot and she purred in response, grinding her pelvis into the mattress in small, slow circles. I stayed with this for several minutes before moving down to her butt and kneaded the firm flesh of her round globes.
I continued the massage for a good half hour, working the muscles of each leg slowly and carefully before moving on to her feet. My wife loves getting foot massages from me. I guess I've gotten pretty good at them over the last year. Amazingly, I had never given her a foot massage before that. She had never asked and it had never occurred to me to offer it. So many foot massages lost for so many years; such a terrible waste. We are here on this earth for such a short period of time. To go that long without doing something she loves to receive and I love to give seems like a tragic waste to me. I wonder how many other undiscovered simple pleasures are still out there.
When I finished with each foot, I placed it gently back down on the foot pillow. I rested for a few moments and just took in the sight of my wife lying very still. Her breathing was slow. She was in that totally relaxed state that hovered between sleep and a trance like state. I moved back up towards her head, still turned sideways on the pillow. I bent over, kissed her gently on the ear again and whispered: "It's time to turn over. I'll help you."
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at me quizzically, not quite understanding what I had said.
"It's time to turn over Hon," I whispered as I stroked her hair gently.
As she started to turn over, I placed one hand under her and helped lift and guide her onto her back. She finished turning over and was on her back when I looked down at her and saw rose petals clinging to her body. An image of a poster from the movie "American Beauty" flashed into my mind. I didn't bother to brush them off. In fact, I kind of liked them clinging to her.
Her eyes were closed and she was still breathing slowly and deeply; still in that trance like state. I oiled my hands, rubbed them together and began massaging the side and front of her neck, moving down to her upper chest. I added a little more oil to my hands and moved them down to her breasts, gently massaging them. Again, she purred in pleasure and satisfaction as I gently rolled her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. I could feel them swell and harden in my fingers.
I slid back down her body until I was straddling her knees and then carefully moved my legs inside of hers spreading her legs a little to make room for me. I continued my massage of her breasts, ribs and mid-section, using my thumbs to gently massage the underside of her breasts. I marveled at how firm her breasts still were. They were completely natural but amazingly still stood up on their own; a testament to the regular weight training she did.
I backed up further and then slid my knees back until I was on my belly between her legs. I waited a moment just soaking up all of the inputs from my senses. She had had a bikini wax the day before so her pubic mound displayed a perfectly trimmed triangle of downy, blonde hair. Her nether lips were ever so slightly parted. I gently opened them further with my thumbs and gave her a long, slow, lengthwise lick from the bottom of her slit to the very top, lingering at the top to apply just a little pressure with my tongue to the side of her clit before retracing my path. She shuddered in response, then drew her legs up until her feet were flat on the terry cloth towel covered mattress, and spread her legs to give me more access.
I went to work - I say work but giving my wife oral is a work of joy and pleasure for me. I worked my tongue in long, slow circles around the length of her vagina, using the tip of my tongue to open and unfold her - like the petals of that rose. She tasted so clean and fresh, yet still had the familiar musky taste and aroma that I loved having on my tongue and fingertips, to enjoy long after we had made love.
After several minutes of gentle, slow licks I began adding a little speed and varying the pressure, stopping to dig a little into her love tunnel and lingering longer at the top to lave her hood covered clit. As I began to pay more attention to her clit, I could feel the tension increase in her thighs and saw her fingers grip the edges of the towel she was lying on. It wasn't long before she was thrusting her hips up to meet my searching tongue. I continued licking her and gently sucking on her labia, using my tongue to search out her tunnel.
When she began whimpering and thrashing her head back and forth, I migrated north and began circling her clit in a slow, steady fashion. Often, in the past, when she had reached this point of arousal, she plateaued and got impatient; calling for her wand vibrator to finish herself off. This time she didn't. I didn't want to disappoint her, so I continued what I was doing, seeing she was getting more and more aroused.
When the grunting and abdominal spasms began, I knew she was getting close. It was time for more direct pressure on her clit and to add a little finger stimulation. The circles my tongue was making around her clit got small and faster and I slowly inserted my middle finger into her pussy up to the second knuckle, reached up to the roof of her tunnel and found the ridged, spongy material of her g-spot. As soon as I applied just a modest amount of pressure on it, my wife made a loud, gasping sound and began panting, thrusting her hips up to meet my tongue. I made small circles on the spongy roof and used my lips to surround her clit. Gently, I sucked on it.
My wife exploded in orgasm, screaming "Yes! Yes! Yessssssssss!" as she gripped the back of my head with both hands pulling me tightly to her pussy as she ground her crotch into my face. I could feel the warm, wetness inside of her as she orgasmed - trying as best I could to stay on that sweet spot of hers and keep her cumming. The hips thrusts finally slowed and she exhaled with a loud "Ahhhhhh." I felt the tension in her thighs release and the death grip she had on the back of my head let go. Her knees fell outward before dropping to the mattress as her feet slid until her legs were flat on the bed.
"Oh god - that was so good, soooooo gooooood," she sighed in a whisper.
I slid back up her perspiration slick body and kissed her before sliding beside her. I'm sure she could taste herself on my lips but she said nothing about it as she purred in contentment and snuggled up close to me. She was still breathing rapidly, trying to catch her breath as she took my hand with both of her and held it tightly to her chest. I felt her heart pounding. In the dimming light of the late afternoon, I saw her face and neck flushed a dark pink.
She closed her eyes and rested, her heart beat slowing and her breathing becoming more regular. I wasn't sure If we were done. I was pretty sure that when she made the date she intended for me to get a release but after the Champagne and massive orgasm of her own, perhaps she didn't have the strength to continue. At one level I was disappointed at not getting a chance to cum, but at another, more profound level, I was so pleased and proud of the pleasure I had given my wife, that my own orgasm didn't really matter much.
[This ends the first part. Part 2 of this will be posted in a few days.]
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