Wow, wow, wow, wow

Wow.

I wrote a fantasy scene out for my husband, and he, completely unexpectedly, carried it out, but ramped way, way up.

He told me to kiss him, and while I was doing so, he grabbed my wrist and pushed me onto my back, his fingers encircling the wrist, gripping hard. I loved it. He started talking about my breast, said he liked it. He stroked it, tugged on the nipple, causing gentle tingles all over me, and lots of "mmm, mmm, mmmmmmmm"s to come out of me. Unexpectedly, he slapped it hard, and my "mmmm" turned into an "ooof," as my body cringed, curled up, trying to protect itself. I forced it back down, and he slapped my breast again.

"I like to see how you react to things I do to this breast," he said, hitting it several more times. It burned. He moved his face over and started rubbing his bristles against my nipple. I squirmed, trying to get away. "Oooh, three days of no shaving make a lot of stubble, wouldn't you say?" he asked as he kept rubbing that sandpaper chin against my sensitive flesh.

"Mmhmm." I kept squirming, trying to get him to at least rub on a place that wasn't already oversensitive. There weren't any left.

"If I like this nipple, I probably shouldn't be doing this to it, huh? Good thing you have this other breast." He started rubbing his chin against my other nipple too, and I kept curling up, completely involuntarily.

"I see you want to protect the poor things. Well, go on, go ahead, turn over." I was a little confused, but I turned on my side. "No no, all the way," he urged. I turned onto my stomach. "Good girl. Your breasts feel safer now?"

"Not really." I wasn't sure what he had in mind, exactly. I had no idea at this point, this late at night, he was about to start fulfilling the fantasy I'd written to him just that evening, in his own way.

"Don't worry, I'm done hurting your breasts." He seized my wrist and moved it to the small of my back, then grabbed the other one and laid it atop the first one. I inhaled sharply as he moved to get something, then felt a single cuff being wrapped around both my wrists, fastening them together. I pulled, already starting to feel the stress of that position. "Can you get out of that?" he asked, tugging at the cuff.

I pulled again, twisting my hands against each other. "No."

"Good." He hit my ass with his hand, hard. My breath whooshed out of me, and he did it again, and again, and again. He hit the insides of my thighs a couple of times, and the backs of them. "Your ass can take more than your breasts, right?"

"Mmhmm." Anything I said was muffled by the fact my hair was all over my face and my face was mostly buried in the mattress.

"I hope so."

I felt the falls of the flogger strike me, heard the smack. "Oh, God," I whispered. He flogged me pretty good, hitting my thighs once in a while.

He stopped with the flogger and stroked my ass with his hand. "I bet that hurts."

"It does."

"I'm not done with your ass yet though." I heard the pop that signifies the cap of the lube container, and I shivered, a moan escaping me. His lubricated finger worked its way into my bottom and I moaned loudly. I think he slid another finger in there, and just played with me like that for a while, pressing all kinds of moans and groans and gasps and assorted vocalizations out of me. It felt incredible. "You don't get to feel that often, do you?"

"Nuh-uh," I whispered, my throat dry from all the noise I'd been making.

He gently removed his fingers. "Well, you seemed to take that well. Let's experiment more, and see how much more you can take."

"Oh, God."

I felt the blunt tip of the plug, already bigger than his finger, against my hole. "This might be a little cold, but you can take it for me, right?"

"No, no, nuh-uh," I whispered, nervous, knowing I probably could but needing to be pressed on the issue.

"Oh, sure you can!" he responded, as he began to gently push it inside me. I pressed back against it as it slowly opened me, and I groaned and groaned.

"How's that feel?" he asked, as he finally pushed it all the way inside, stuffing me completely.

I was panting with the exertion. "Big."

"How do you like that?"

"Oh God."

"'Oh God,' huh? I should probably write that down." He kissed my shoulder.

 I squirmed and pulled at my hands, my shoulders aching. I moved to one side a bit, trying to relieve the pressure.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked me sharply.

"Nothing, nothing." I panted.

"Oh, nothing, huh?" he slapped my ass several times, making me whimper. "That's for making me think you were trying to get away."

He let his hands roam over my body, his fingertips creating magic tingles wherever they stroked, and then his fingers found my pussy, open, wet, so incredibly horny I can't put it into words.

"Let's see how much more you can take," he said musingly as he slipped a finger inside my pussy, then two.

"Full, full!" I half complained, half begged for more.

He fucked me like that for a while, talking, whispering into my ear about what a dirty, horny, incredibly wet, slutty girl I am, then switched his fingers for his thumb, letting his fingers dance on my clit. "Have a thumb," he said as he pressed it inside me.

"Full," I panted. "God."

I love being full like that, but it does not feel like a sustainable thing. It feels like I will burst at any moment, but that is exactly how I want to feel, out of control. I want to beg, to plead, to complain, and have him proceed anyway.

He did. He kept going and going and going until I came, my brain exploding while he kept whispering dirty things in my ear.

He removed the plug, not ending the sex, just exercising another show of force. Taking it out is every bit as intense, if not more so, as putting it  in.

He released my arms and I groaned with the pain, stretching them out in front of me. He rubbed my back, pulled me against him, ran his fingertips over my torso and breasts. It felt incredible; my sensitivities were already up from all the stimulation. I was soon moaning again in his arms, both my hands gripping the arm that was wrapped around me while the other one traveled my body, finding its way to my clit and stroking me there gently, talking dirty into my ear as his touches became more urgent. I humped his hand, squeezing his arm, pressing my body back into his, wanting desperately to just melt into him.

My moans became deeper, throaty screams as the pleasure spiraled upward beyond my ability to contain it. "Yeah, bitch, come for me, that's right," he rasped as I did just that.

He turned me over, held my head against his chest, stroking my hair as I just repeated "Oh wow, oh God, oh wow, wow, wow."

"But what about you?" I asked, long minutes later when I could utter something besides "Wow, you're amazing."

"I'm good," he responded, squeezing me, "I like to make you make noises."

I fell asleep in his arms, exhausted.

I don't know how much time passed.

I woke up a little, half my consciousness lingering in sleep, my nipples tingling as he stroked them gently. I purred, stretching, rubbing against him. He felt so lovely against my back, and those fingers were magical. I felt his cock, hard as a rock, rubbing against my ass.

"I suppose you're too sleepy to still want this cock," he murmured, kissing my neck, pressing his cock against me.

"Noooo.." I moaned. I'm never too sleepy for wanting. Maybe I can be too sleepy to do anything about it, but never too sleepy for wanting.

"No? That's good." My hand had crept behind me, and I was rubbing his cock through his boxers, purring with delight at the entire situation, but still half asleep.

"Wait," I whispered, "what happened?"

"What happened?" he repeated, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"Yeah... wasn't I.. weren't you.. I thought we were asleep?"

"Yeah, you were, then I went the the bathroom and I came back and started touching you again.."

"Ohhhh," I responded, both an acknowledgement of what he'd said and a moan because his fingers were still drawing gentle circles around my nipples, stopping to tug occasionally. He kept rubbing my nipples and humping me for a while longer, until it became obvious that I was too sleepy to really act on my own.

"Want you," he growled into my ear, eliciting a gasp from me as he grabbed my hip and moved me slightly. "Give me that pussy."

I moaned loudly because this vocalization of his was so primal, so urgent, so amazingly possessive. God, what that did to me. I wasn't asleep anymore. I was still exhausted but I wanted to give him everything he wanted as soon as possible. I moved my leg backward over his hip and he pressed inside me, slowly, slowly, slowly. I was swollen from the handling he'd given me earlier, and hot damn he felt huge going inside me. I was extremely turned on, so lubrication was definitely not an issue.

I made a lot of noise. "Oh, ohhhh, ohhhhh God," and so on.

For a while, he stroked my clit while he slowly thrust into me and I moaned and moaned, told him he was magnificent, thanked him for fucking me, that his cock felt fantastic.

He stopped stroking my clit and squeezed my breast instead, pulling me tight against him. I said something about how lucky a girl I was to be fucked by such an impressive cock, and he groaned, emptying himself within me. He kept thrusting for a while, and then returned his fingers to my clit, surprising me. He kept rubbing me there, whispering dirty things in my ear, making me insane, making my body wiggle and squirm out of my own control. "Yeah, that's right, squirm for me, baby... just like that," he kept saying, as my pleasure quickly grew beyond my own ability to measure or control it.  He'd bury his fingers in me once in a while, reaching for and pressing against my g-spot a few times, which always gets a louder moan, a deeper sigh.

He took his time, kept increasing the sensations and holding me on a plateau of bliss before driving me higher and higher. My moans deepened and my hips arched up as I gripped his other arm, my eyes rolling back in my head. It was almost an exact repeat of the previous orgasm; it felt just as delicious.

He stroked me gently, bringing me back down slowly, then gathered me into his arms again as I gasped "Oh God, ohgodohgodohgod, oh. my. God," over and over and over. I clung to him and pressed some kisses against his chest.

"I know how to press your buttons," he told me.

Boy howdy, does he! Amazing. If I had to put it on a scale of one to 10, this was a frakking five thousand.

Of course, there's always a price, and Monday morning waking up wasn't much fun.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done all that stuff last night," he whispered to me sleepily as we recovered from the alarm this morning.

"Don't you dare even say such a thing!"

I certainly wouldn't recommend such a scene on a Sunday night, but damn, I wouldn't trade it for the world.