Husband knows best

My husband has been taking his MacBook Pro into the bedroom and using it there when he works from home. It's generally a no-go, but our apartment is small, so he goes in there and spends the day with his computer, in our bedroom where we have a rule about not using computers or watching TV, or doing most things that aren't focusing us on each other or sleeping. That's for the improvement of both the sex and the sleep.

It hurt me a tiny bit, honestly. Rebelliously, I started using my netbook in there too.

"Should you be doing that?" he asked me as he was getting ready for bed and I was reading a blog post, sitting on the bed.

"You do it!" I responded.

"For work. That's different," he said, furrowing his brow at me.

"It's still using a computer in our bedroom," I responded. It is! I still hold that it is.

"I see it as an entirely different situation, and I only do it during those hours," he said, slipping under the sheets next to me. He pushed on my shoulder. "Lie down."

"I don't bend that way," I protested.

"Well, lie down whatever way you do bend."

I put my computer down and did as I was told. I love doing what I'm told. I curled up on my side, facing away from him.

"You didn't have to stop what you were doing, you just needed to lie down," he informed me, as he delivered the first blow of a flogger to my back from his position behind me on his knees.

It was a nice flogger, though I'm not certain which one it was. One of the softer ones, for sure. He stopped just as it started to hurt.

"You know what that was for?" he asked me, sliding up behind me and pulling me against him.

"Nuh-uh," I responded softly.

"Can you guess?" he was amused.

"Mmmm, because you like me?"

"I DO like you," he said, kissing my neck, "but that was for using your computer here. I want your attention focused on me. You understand?" he punctuated the question with several hard, lingering swats on my backside that hurt worse than the flogger had dared to.

"I understand."

His hand stroked my from my hip to my neck, a long caress that sent tingles up and down my spine. "Would you like to suck my cock now?" he asked.

"Oh yes."

So I slid down his body, stopped near his stomach, stroked his chest, kissed his stomach. I must have lingered too long, for he fisted his hand in my hair and forced my head lower, onto his cock. I love that particular expression of intent.

I drew him inside my mouth, swirled my tongue and sucked until my neck ached from the angle, then laid on my side and pulled him onto his so I could suck for longer. "How do you think we can make this more sustainable?" he asked me as I moved on him. "You want me on top of you? You want to get on the ramp?"

I answered each question with a heavily muffled nuh-uh. On our sides with his leg tossed over my neck is plenty sustainable for me. Yum. His hands wandered, tugging my hair, pulling and pinching on my nipple. I love being there, pleasuring him. I can easily lose all track of time.

He told me to stop, pulled away a bit. "Get on top of me, now."

"But I want to suck it!"

"I know you want to suck it... you can suck it some more later, okay?" He blocked my head from bending back toward his bobbing erection, and tugged me upward. "You do what I tell you, isn't that right? C'mon, up here you go."

I got on top of him, slid down onto his hard cock, and rocked slowly, slowly. So good.

When he sensed I was tiring, we rolled over. We almost, almost rolled right off the bed. I giggled, but it was cut short by him sliding back inside of me.

I pulled my legs up, up, up, holding my feet in my hands, bending myself in half. He likes that a lot. "Mmmm, you really make me want to come in you," he said as he ground against me, "but I think I promised you you could suck cock some more." My thighs began to tremble from the effort after some minutes, and, feeling it, he whispered in my ear "Don't hurt yourself... that's my job, remember?"

When I eventually tired and let my legs fall, he said "By the way, that thing you do with your legs? That is really fucking hot." He moved inside me slowly as I panted, trying to catch my breath. "I'll give you a little break," he said.

I moved with him. Minutes ticked by. "Just let me know when you're ready to suck this cock. You know, when you're finished taking a break."

"Is that what I'm doing?" I asked breathlessly, pressing up against him with a dreamy sort of slowness.

"Mmmhmm," he said in a low, sexy growl as he ground against me in slow circles, "doesn't it feel like a break?"

"It feels lovely," I said, before I lifted my legs back up, grabbing my feet again.

"Ooooh, did you find something you like better than sucking cock?" he teased me as he thrust with renewed vigor.

"Nuh-uh," I panted.

"Mmmmmmm, you just like to make me happy, huh?"

"Mmmhmm..."

"You like to open yourself up to me, to say, 'Here's my pussy, come and fuck it, that's what it's for. You can't. fucking. miss it.' Isn't that right?" Each pause was matched to a deep, grinding thrust, and the heat of his words built my passion to a fever pitch. I could do nothing but moan my agreement and try to lift myself higher, higher, to meet his thrusts.

He spilled his orgasm into me, and slowly withdrew as I brought my legs down to rest. He turned me over, his fingers replaced his cock, and he brought the butt plug out and plugged my ass, to a chorus of my moans. "I love using you for my pleasure," he said as he slid far too many fingers inside me, "whether that's letting you suck my cock, or fucking you, or shoving things inside you. I love you so much," he whispered against my hair. I was rocking, moaning, lost in the full sensations and the feeling of him pressing into my g-spot. "That's right, girl, squirm for me... moan for me. Come for me."

It only took another minute or so for me to comply.

Honestly? I would have thought the expectation would shut me off and make orgasm unobtainable for the forseeable future.

He knew better.

Yes, dear.