Fantasies. Erotic Fiction. Real-life sexploits. The possibilities, they are endless.
Wednesday, 14 January 2009
A Day of Firsts, Part II
"Jim!" she squeaked, snatching at the quilt and covering her face. Oh my God, oh my god ohmygod! No. Yes. No. I'm going to die of embarrassment.
Jim stood by the door - which he'd closed and locked behind him - absolutely entranced. He could still see her fingers glistening with pussy juices. But when he watched her cover her face, he laughed. She, it seemed, was sobbing. Or at least shaking really hard.
Taking a step, forward, he breathed her name. "Anya." She made no move to look at him nor even acknowledge that he'd said anything. Her body shook under the quilt, though she made no sound. Coming round to her side of the bed, he sat down on the edge and put his hand on what he thought was her thigh. "Anya. Babe," he said softly. "Come on now. You can't honestly think that covering your face is going to magically make me un-see what I just saw, do you?"
She answered with a shake of her head.
He just sat there looking at her for a few moments, still reeling from the shock of what he'd seen. He knew that she masturbated, but he also knew that she went to great lengths to hide it from him. He never quite understood why, but he always figured that if it bothered her that much, he'd respect that and not bring it up. But how could he not bring it up now?
Trying to ignore the hard-on he'd sprung when he walked in on his wife pleasuring herself, he made an effort to be gentle with her. After nearly 10 years of marriage, he sensed she needed sensitivity and encouragement right now, not mockery. I can always tease her later, when it's not such a big deal anymore. Heehee.
"Babe," he said softly, "take the quilt off your face. You can't be comfortable under there, for one thing. For another, it's pointless. I'm here now, you can't pretend that I'm not."
Slowly she brought the quilt down to breast level, keeping her eyes closed. Sure enough, there was the telltale shine of tear tracks down her cheeks. "Come on, stop being silly," he told her. "Open your eyes."
She turned her face away from him first, then opened her eyes, keeping them fixed on a point on the wall opposite.
Man, she really is embarrassed, isn't she?
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Why can't you look at me?"
"It's too humiliating," she said, her voice cracking.
Taken aback, he blurted out "why?"
"Because you saw me... you saw me... "
"Masturbating," he said. "Playing with yourself."
"Yeah. That," she said on a sigh.
"And why is that humiliating?"
She simply shook her head.
"Come on. Answer me. Give me one good reason why it would be humiliating for a woman to be caught playing with herself by her own husband?"
She was silent for a moment... until she realized he wasn't going to give up without an answer. He'd sit there and torture her all night until she gave him one. Angrily, her eyes flashed at him as she lifted her head off the pillow just long enough to hiss "I don't know, okay?!"
Jim smiled to himself. Hmm... maybe if he played this right, he might actually be able to help her to get over some of the 'issues' she had with her sexuality. This could turn out to be a good thing.
"So... you don't actually have a reason why it's humiliating. It just is, is that it?"
"Yeah. Pretty much," she said.
"Well, you know what?" he said, leaning over her and turning her face so that she had no choice but to look at him. "You shouldn't be. Embarrassed, I mean." He started nuzzling her face. "You're beautiful," a soft kiss on the lips. "You're sexy," trailing kisses down her neck. "And it looked amazing," he found the weak spot on her neck and started kissing and nibbling it. "I never realized that watching you from across the room could be hotter than watching you come under or on top of me. But it was. I just wish I'd been here to see it all, without the quilt."
Anya's breath was coming out in short bursts - even after all this time together, he could turn her on in an instant and knew just which buttons to push. She could already feel the fire beginning to blaze between her legs again. The humiliating burning in her cheeks started to fade, but only a tiny bit...
"Hell, Anya, watching you come gave me an instant hard-on. Here, feel." He took her hand and placed it on the bulge in his jeans. She sucked in a breath when she realized he wasn't just semi-hard... he was rock hard. Wow, she thought.
His kisses on her neck and the feel of his cock in her hand were both working to form a haze over her thoughts of embarrassment. As was the case every time they had sex, nothing mattered but what they did to and for each other. The world could be on fire and she wouldn't give a damn. Absently, she began to stroke him through the layer of denim.
One of Jim's hands reached up and pulled the quilt down as he kissed and sucked on her neck. She arched against him, completely lost in how he was making her feel. Taking hold of the tank top she was wearing he broke away from her neck to tell her "take this off. I want to see you. All of you."
In one quick motion the tank was off and lying in a heap on the other side of the room. Jim bent his head and resumed kissing and sucking on his wife's neck, leaving love bites along the way. His free hand reached up and cupped her breast, eliciting yet another audible gasp from her.
She could feel him smile against her skin. "You like that?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
"God, yes," she breathed.
"Then say it."
"No," he said, a little more forcefully. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."
Anya froze. "What... what do you mean?"
"I mean I want you to talk to me like you do when I'm fucking you and you're about to come. When all those naughty things build up inside of you and you can't help but let them out. I know you think like that more often than just when you're coming. I want to hear it."
Something snapped in Anya. Something for which she had no name, but to which she had been clinging as if her life depended on it. It really is okay.
Not quite brave enough to look him in the eye while she said it, she closer her eyes. "I... I want you to touch me," she gasped. "I want you to touch..." she wasn't sure what word to use. Breasts? Was that too clinical? Was 'boobs' too common? "I want you to touch my tits."
"I want you to rub them.."
"Like this?" he asked, covering both mounds with his warm hands, firmly but gently massaging them in circular motions. Arching her back, she let out a soft moan. "Oh yes..."
"What else? Is there nothing else you want me to do to you?"
"My nipples," she gasped. "Play with my nipples."
He took each nipple between a thumb and a forefinger and started rolling, pinching, and pulling on them. Each new touch elicited more gasps, sighs, and groans from her. He'd never noticed just how beautiful her voice sounded when she was crying out in pleasure.
It was as if walking in on her pleasuring herself lifted a veil from his eyes and he was seeing her again for the first time.
And he loved what he was seeing.
He leaned down and kissed the skin between her breasts, letting his tongue dart out to tickle the skin. Anya shivered and wrapped her arms around his head, hands absently stroking his back. He kissed his way up to one of her nipples; sucking on it, gently biting it, she began to arch her back even more, trying to give it all to him.
After paying just as much attention to the second breast as he did the first, he started to kiss his way down the curves of her stomach. He smiled at the aroused giggle that bubbled out of her when he stuck his tongue in her navel.
Kissing his way back up her body, he made as if he was going to kiss her, but stopped. He just stared into her eyes for an intense moment before taking possession of her mouth.
It was a kiss to eclipse all of the other kisses that had ever happened between them. It was a kiss full of love, of lust, and of passion. They were both gasping for breath when the kiss broke.
"I want you to do something for me," he said, locking eyes with her.
"I want you to play with yourself again. For me. So I can watch."
Anya's cheeks began to burn. The thought of doing it right there in front of him, with the intention of him watching her... it excited and frightened her at the same time. She wanted to do it... but could she? "Honey, I don't know if I could..."
"I'll make it easier for you," he said. Wrapping one arm around her upper body and letting his other hand take one of hers, he brought them both to her sopping wet pussy. "I'll help you at first, get you started. And then when you're really hot, I'll let you take over." Both hands dipped between her pussy lips and felt the evidence of her earlier orgasm. "My, but you are wet," he said. "You must have been really fucking wet to begin with to be this wet now."
Judging by the intensity with which he looked at her, she supposed he wanted an answer. "Yes," she said, half moaning. "Yes, I was wet before."
"Hmm... and what made you so wet, may I ask?"
"I... I don't know," she said, finding it hard to actually form a coherent thought, as there were two hands going to work on her clit. "I don't know why, but I've been wet for days. All I can think about is having sex with you, but you've not been feeling well, so I know it's out of the question."
He left her to work her clit on her own and instead pushed two fingers up her pussy, hard. Soft, soft, hard. Soft, soft, hard. He definitely knew what she liked. "What made you think sex was out of the question?" he asked.
"You... always say... that it... it doesn't... work... when you're not well."
"Hmm... you're right, I do remember saying that. I suppose it's my own fault then, huh? Although it's not like you usually get the courage to say anything anyway."
"True, but even if I... *gasp*... jumped you on a regular basis... *gasp*... I probably wouldn't have said anything, knowing that you're not feeling well."
Abruptly pulling his fingers out of her pussy, he stood up. "You just keep going. Anyway, I seem to be feeling a lot better all of a sudden," and for proof, he whipped his jeans down to his calves, letting his cock spring free. "See? So you know what? I'd like to revise that statement." He crawled on the bed next to her, kissing her and stroking his own cock lazily. "From now on, you can ask for sex anytime you want, whether I'm feeling good or not. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work... but I can't believe I would have missed out on this because of one stupid comment."
He kissed her again, deeply, prompting her to work more feverishly on her clit. "That's right. Rub it. Doesn't it feel good?"
"Yes," she breathed.
He shifted his weight around so that he was at the edge of the bed, lying on his side with one hand holding his head up and the other moving slowly up and down on his cock. He had a wonderful view, from her feet all the way up to her shining face. And a perfect view of her gorgeous pussy.
Her clit was swollen, a lovely shade of pink. He watched her fingers move up and down between her pussy lips and a slight frown creased his brow. "Use both hands," he said. "Hold your lips open so that I can see it."
Anya did, trying to concentrate on what her body was feeling, at the same time trying to ignore the voice in her head that was screaming "What are you doing?"
It didn't take long for her orgasm to build, he could tell. He could see her tensing up, teetering on the edge of release. "What's your favorite thing," he asked, "to have done with your pussy? Is it doing it yourself, having me do it, the vibrator... what?"
"Having... your... cock... inside... me..." she all but screamed as her orgasm washed over her in wave after wave after wave of pleasure.
Jim half-sat up and grinned at her. "Well then..."