You know when you try and incorporate likely huge marketing ploys in the form of ‘International Day of…’ into your sex life…? Well I did last Friday and decided to write about after already masturbating over it at least three times. (Plus International Masturbation Day- May 28 folks).
I’m usually tired when I come back from work. My work can often be very physical, and afterwards all I want to do is curl up on the sofa and sleep.
So I put on my (actually his…) pjs and I curl up on the sofa, facing the back. I’m lying there, blissfully content as my body relaxes into itself. I hear him come in, walk over and pull down the bottoms. They easy slide down to expose my bare arse, and on it he lands a perfect spank.
Oh, I’m starting to perk up a little.
He’s not saying anything to me, but he has managed to position himself so I feel his already hard cock rubbing against me. It isn’t long before I hear the fumbling of his zip, he likes to feel his cock touching my skin when it’s on show.
What did you say you wanted to do earlier?
It takes me a while to actually begin listening, and then work out what he is asking. I’ve just come home, I haven’t spoken to him much today. I’m still spinning from the sting of his hand on my arse.
What did I say? Oh, I text him. I text him saying I wanted his cock in my mouth. I always want his cock in my mouth.
I could tell him I remembered. And kneel in front of him. And eagerly take him in my mouth. But that’s exactly what he wants, and lately I’ve been trying to test this new side to him.
I can’t remember…
Of course I can. I’m grinning, and he can hear I’m grinning. I wriggle myself back into him.
Are you sure? Let me remind you.
And he grabs my hair and before I know it I’m on my knees, his cock buried deep in my mouth.
Jackpot.
He fucks my mouth for a while. He makes me gag twice, and the second time he pulls out and watches me splutter as I look up at him. He calls me a good girl, then tells me to go into the bedroom.
It’s rather clumsy. My trousers are around my ankles, and I’m shaking in anticipation (if someone masters the ‘walking to the bedroom in pjs that are slightly too big for you, which are around your ankles, after you’ve been shoveling dirt all day’ look, please get in touch). It’s a relief as he instructs me to take off what I’m wearing, and lays me on the bed.
As I lie there, I remember what else I text him. You see, last Friday was International Chocolate Day, and he bloody loves chocolate. I remember suggesting he ate chocolate off my body.
My hands get tied to the bed frame with a tie (the tie he thought he had lost when looking for it to attend a royal Garden Party, the tie we had left tied to his bed-frame for easy access when he wants to tie me to the bed by my neck as he goes to make breakfast, or shower etc.). I’m blindfolded. He goes into the top left drawer- the good drawer- and I feel something quite cold and thick on my left nipple. It’s chocolate body spread, I know this instantly as we have tried it before. I’ve never had an enjoyable experience eating from anothers body, yet I know that he enjoys the idea of eating something (especially chocolate related) from mine.
He licks, nibbles and bites at my nipples, breasts and the line running down my stomach. I am quite helpless, and don’t know where he will turn his attention to next. I curl my knees into me, as he bites and pulls at my right nipple, and he firmly pushes my knees down and apart.
Don’t move your legs.
This is difficult. I want to rub them together, to stimulate my clit. They start to tremble and every time they (mostly involuntarily) close, he prises them open again. I’m waiting for the day he slaps the inside of my thighs, but today wasn’t that day. Instead, he puts chocolate covered fingers in my mouth and around my mouth, and I’m greedily licking from them.
Then he leaves. I’m a dramatic wreck and almost throwing a tantrum. My legs are shaking and I’m trying to keep them still. I’m trying not to make whimpering noises (although some do escape) and I’m especially trying not to beg for him to come back. I’m trying to be very, very good.
Little Kitten is still a bit messy
I hear the water, and the squeezing of a cloth. He starts to wipe away the sticky remnants of our celebration of International Chocolate Day. And, similarly to the chocolate we had been celebrating, I completely and utterly melt.
I lay there, in that realm between ecstasy and relaxation as he makes sure I’m clean. I make satisfied noises, and my legs are open, relaxed- likely providing quite a view for him. And then he leaves again.
I’m wondering where this might go. I’m still restrained, blindfolded and I know with one slight touch I’m likely to return to the whimpering mess I was earlier.
He comes back with more things. But not from the drawer, these have come from elsewhere. Then it hits me.
He’s going to shave me.
Now, as many of you know I’m often sporting a rather unkempt mess of hair between my legs. Which I fucking love. But I also enjoy being waxed, and I don’t have a ‘one or the other’ attitude.
We had spoken about this months ago, quite early on. He said he wanted to shave me, and I began on a ‘please don’t assume you can do what you want with my body to suit you’ rant in my head. I got worried that the way I looked upset him, even offended him. But I quickly realized it wasn’t about the end result- he’d enjoyed me whatever I looked like. It was the act. The intimacy, trust and willingness to let someone shave you. And I began to warm to the idea.
There was one thing holding me back. And that was the love/hate relationship I have suffered with my vulva for years. The idea of being so exposed to another is usually utterly terrifying. Yes, I don’t want to actively change my appearance anymore, but it is still a concern.
I begin to panic as I realise what is going to happen. He will not just see me, but have to see and actually work around each individual flaw. But there’s a difference, and this difference made it possible: I can say stop, I can say it right now, and he will and we will continue with something else equally fun. And later we will talk about it, he will make sure I’m happy and we will try to make things easier.
And this relaxes me. I ask him what he is doing, just to open up that communication in case I need to talk further.
I’m going to shave you. I want to see how beautiful you are. Don’t worry, I’m going to look after you, little Kitten.
And the towel underneath me, warm water, and the foam, and the kiss on my thigh relaxes me. He knows exactly what he’s doing, is skillful and I don’t feel at all worried. I actually notice a familiar tremble in my legs although I try to contain it. I moan every time the water hits me, and I moan even more when the razor gets vaguely near my clit. I can feel myself getting wetter and by the time his last strokes and final wash down with water is over, I’m wriggling and shaking.
It’s not long before his tongue is on my clit. Again, oral sex is difficult for me, and I try to ease away my worries. I can hear that he’s enjoying me- the moan of satisfaction when he realized how excited and wet I am as he fingers me, the even bigger moan as I gently clamp my thighs around his head. I work out quite quickly that I can grind against his tongue.
This takes a while, it always does. I haven’t had that many orgasms this way. This is especially frustrating as he is making me feel all manner of pleasures and, basically, is fucking incredible. I hit the plateau and can’t push myself over. I become stuck, frozen, like someone wanting to dive off the high board but being too afraid to let their feet leave solid ground.
Then, he pushes me. Very easily, and very simply. He moves his hand from cupping my arse and pulling me in, to the outside of my leg. He doesn’t alter his movement or rhythm and I don’t alter mine. And he strokes me, so very gently, and I know he’s telling me to relax, and he’s in no rush.
But it’s me who’s in a rush, as I make the familiar noise which roughly translates as ‘if I keep doing this exact thing, I’m going to orgasm’. He responds with something I think (his mouth is full of my cunt after all) translates as ‘yeah? Awesome, I’ll keep doing this then’, before I give my ‘yes’ response. The yes is audible, which surprises me, and then out comes a ‘Fuck’ before I’m writhing with his mouth somewhere still on me and his hand gripping my thigh. And it goes on for ages. I’m shaking and weeping (and for a brief moment worry the neighbors will be knocking on the door) before I collapse.
I can still feel the uncontrollable fluttering in my cunt as he pushes two pillows under the small of my back and thrusts inside me. I can hear how wet I am through our moans. We aren’t taking our time as I come around him and he finishes inside me.
We both collapse in an exhausted heap of sweat, mess and I’m pretty sure I’m slightly teary.
I hope to celebrate each International Chocolate Day!