Wednesday, April 11, 2012

From bad heat to amazing heat

I wasn't feeling well - overheated from my bath, I believe. I lay on top of our blankets, my head toward one corner of the foot of the bed, and my feet toward the opposite corner at the head, so to better feel the fan on my body. My husband joined me, but he's not a fan of putting his head near the foot of the bed, and so his head was near my feet. He rested his leg across my chest, pinning me there, and I stroked his calf and thigh while he rubbed my legs. It was nice, soft, loving. I purred as I lavished attention on his legs, enjoying the feel of confinement having his leg across me was producing. His hands wandered up between my legs and his fingertips stroked along my pussy, just barely touching me. I could feel his cock growing hard where it was pressed against my side.

He hit me, suddenly, with no warning. A soft stroke, then a loud smack on my soft inner thigh. I yelped and squirmed, but he held my leg still while he continued. "Did you forget you told me I could hurt you as much as I liked later?" he asked, as he landed the last blow.

"No," I responded, then, "oh, it hurts."

He treated the spot to gentle fingertip strokes of pain that made me gasp, then the evil bristles of his beard, grown out since Friday morning when he shaved. This was Saturday night, so just enough growth to be completely stiff and terribly painful. The reddened, abused flesh of my inner thigh complained to me, and I squirmed in his grip.

He sat up then on the edge of the bed, pulling his legs away from me and my face to his lap. I whined at the loss of the leg across me.

"Oh, were you enjoying those legs? I think you've had enough enjoyment." The flogger drawer was right at his hand now, and he retrieved one and began flogging me. He alternated flogging with different floggers and spanking me with his bare hand, no amount of which hurt as much as the abuse my thighs had endured. I was kissing his legs under my lips and arching up into the blows.

Eventually he pulled me over him, and had me leaning over his face as he tortured my nipple, sucking hard on it, biting it, rasping with evil bristles, making me wet. So long since he's tortured my nipple like that. After a time I leaned away from him, but he wasn't having any of it. "Want you on top of me," his raspy voice echoed the rasp of his bristles against my sensitive flesh. "So I can torture your nipples some more."

I obeyed, sitting atop him, leaning over so his mouth had easy access to my nipples. "Those bristles are evil," I whispered as he applied them, a shiver running through me.

"You afraid I'll rasp it right off? I bet you are."

Atop him, slowly moving. The length of his cock pressed against me, but not inside me. I slid back and forth against him; the more torture he applied to my nipple the more slippery it got between us. My clit bumped the head of his cock each time I slid forward, and it was so, so slippery. My breasts were held captive by his mouth and his hands; I was lost. I wanted him inside me so badly, but feared he would just tease me all night. I pressed my palms to the flat plane of his belly and whispered "Oh my God, you're a furnace," as the heat from his skin branded into my hand.

He took his mouth from my nipple long enough to respond, "You like me," before he recaptured the throbbing bundle of nerves.

Finally, I felt his cock prod against my opening and I gratefully slid onto it with a loud gasp of pleasure. "Oh, God, that's good," I said, breathless with desire, as I began to move myself on him. He sucked hard on my nipple, making me cry out, as both of his hands made their way to my head, where he grabbed handfuls of my hair and tugged, forcefully fucking up into me while he held me in place. We moved together and time evaporated.

"Get off me, and lie on your side so I can fuck you like that."

I moaned, my lips against his, and kissed him hotly as I ground against him. "I really don't want to," I whispered.

His arms tightened and held me down against him, his hand fisted in my hair, as he fucked up into me. I melted into him. "I can't.. I can't leave you if you're doing this to me," I managed to say between my deeply pleased noises.

"I'm just trying to fuck you, slut."

Moments blurred together as I took what he gave me, until he decided to stop. He shoved at me. "Now MOVE."

I moved, and he entered me from behind, drawing my leg back over his hip so he had access to play with my clit.

After he came inside me, he pressed his fingers inside me, stroking my g-spot hard, making me scream with pleasure. "I really love it when you touch me there," I gasped when he let up for a moment.

"I know," he responded, a bit smugly. He alternated slow thrusting and clit stimulation with hard g-spot pressure that made me cry out each time, and then I arched up against his hand, screaming, gasping for breath, clutching at him, as orgasm overtook me.

Way to make an overheated girl forget, husband.


  1. Sounds like all he did was get you even more heated. I am sure you felt much better after that. I love the stingy feeling after my thighs have been beaten.

    1. The length of time we spent just lying there stroking each other was actually much more then it might appear from reading this. Probably about fifteen minutes; I was feeling a little better before the first strike. But yes, always feel much better after, yum.

  2. Conina,

    Terrific! Very erotic account! Thank you for sharing.



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