Monday, July 23, 2012

Sunday satisfaction

Saturday night we had an lovely, lazy lovemaking and incredible blowjob session, which was awesome, but left me a little horny since there was no sexual release for me. A Sunday morning attempt to rectify that was interrupted by our little one barging in. As amusing as "Why did you just barge in without knocking? We're still asleep!" is when you have fingers buried in your soft, wet parts and are most definitely not asleep, it doesn't quite make up for the less than satisfactory nature of the orgasm that follows once the child has been banished.

Sunday night is always a little depressing, since what follows is the work week - five days where our togetherness is interrupted for many hours at a time. Add to all of that the fact that we went to bed late because I drastically misjudged how long it would take to finish the flogger I'd started that evening and you have a serious emotional stew brewing.



My husband is awesome though, because even though I could plainly see that the time was elevens, he started talking, propped on his elbow as I lay on my back looking up at him. "Your breasts haven't had attention in a while," he said, pushing my shirt up to expose them. I saw a ruler in his hand. "I think they'd like some attention from this," he continued, tapping the ruler lightly against my nipple.

I shook my head, gasping a little at the impact. "No?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Okay, then." He put the ruler down and reached over my head, lifting the crop from its hiding place between the head of our platform bed and the wall. The crop smacked lightly against my breast, all over.

I know I laughed at something - the ruler, or the crop. "I can barely feel that," I told him. And he made sure he hit me a little harder, nudging my nipple with the crop until it stood up, then slapping it. I turned toward him to better present my breasts. My eyes were closed, focused on the sensations he was delivering, and so I didn't see what he was planning, how he was moving, where his eyes were. He nudged the crop against my right nipple, making me gasp with anticipation, focus all my attention on that nipple, and then thwack, he slapped the crop against my left nipple. I screamed. Wow. Simple diversion tactic, but so effective.

He did it again, and again. I screamed each time; it seems it doesn't lose effectiveness.

Eventually he put the crop down, and his hand wandered over my body. He cupped and squeezed my breasts, stroked my sides and hips, ran his fingertips delicately over my inner thigh. I purred, his touch spreading tingles through my body. I knew those same fingers would be slapping my spread thighs and pussy soon, and I was not wrong. He started lightly, but soon he began to concentrate his slaps right on my sex. As I tossed my head and bucked under the slaps, he began telling me that I was his, that my pussy was his. "Mine, mine, mine!"

I love that.

I was wet and ready when he started circling his fingertip near my entrance. I humped up at his hand, wanting him to slide higher and touch my clit, or to slide lower and slip inside me, but he wouldn't. I groaned in frustration and pent-up desire as he teased me. His lips claimed mine and he sucked my tongue, hard enough to keep me from pulling it away. That always makes me feel owned, when he has my tongue and won't give it back. I make so much noise because I can't even stop trying to pull it away from him. When his finger finally did glide up and brush against my clit I cried out from the sheer pleasure of it, writhing under his touch.


His fingers slid inside me and then he was on me. "You ready for this cock?" he asked me.

"Oh, God yes," I moaned, rocking up to him as he let his cock rest against my slippery folds. I wanted him in me!

"Take it, then, my slutty horny girl," he said, pressing it slowly against me. I'm not sure if he actually pushed any harder or if he just didn't move as I rocked up into him, engulfing him. Either way the result was the same; his glorious hardness was buried in me, our hips meeting each other and grinding. Oh, it was good. His fingertips found my nipple as we slowly fucked, and he applied the slow kind of pressure that feels wonderful at first, slowly starts to hurt, and then becomes really painful. I screamed as it approached that point. "You can take it," he told me.

I felt him approach his orgasm, grabbing his hips and pulling him toward me on each thrust. By the sound of it he was really enjoying himself, and by extension so was I. "Oh, fuck, yes," I kept repeating as he made his final few thrusts into me.

The time being what it was, though, there was too much tiredness for play to continue once he'd exhausted himself thusly. "Do you mind if I read?" I asked him as he started to drift off, his arm draped over me.

"Go ahead," he said, "but thank you for asking."

I read for half an hour or so, and then I put it away, still feeling horny, distracted, unable to focus on reading or sleep. I started touching myself slowly, not intending to bring anything of it since masturbating to orgasm rarely works for me, but just enjoying the sensations. I rolled over on my stomach, a fantasy taking hold in my brain, and I don't know how long I just slowly humped my own hand, but it was quite a while.

Suddenly, my husband's thumb was buried in my pussy. I guess my humping motions weren't quite slow enough to not disturb him. "Mine!" he said as I made a noise of surprise and pleasure, pressing my hips back into his hand to take as much of him as he would give. His fingers worked my clit as I rocked there, and two lovely orgasms were then mine, making me scream for him as my eyes rolled back in my head.

His hand on my hip tugged me over onto my side facing away from him, positioning me to accept his cock, and then it was buried in me from behind, claiming me once again. "My fuck toy, mine, mine" he said as he pumped me, his hand pulling hard on my hair, tugging my head back, his other hand on my hip, moving me on his cock as he desired.

He plays with me far better than I play with myself. Probably why I gave myself to him.

It was fast, it took me completely by surprise, and it was exactly what I needed; this middle-of-the-night fuck, claiming me as his. I fell asleep in his arms afterward; nothing like an orgasm or two for inducing sleep.

I'll still remember not to start making floggers late at night.

7 comments:

  1. What a great cure for the Sunday night blues :) I get those too, it's crazy to say, but I just miss him so much when he is not here, even for just a work day.

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    1. Right there with you, faerie. Some days are worse than others with the missing. Sunday night gives us both the blues - but as he often tells me, worrying is just suffering in advance.

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  2. "Mine!" Hee. I know you like it when he says that. I like it when Master says that to me too, since it kind of implies he's planning on keeping me.

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    1. I think that's my favorite anything that he ever says, honestly. :)

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  3. Yes the hours of separation suck but the coming back together again afterward is so sweet.

    Stay SINful
    Mr. AP

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    1. I agree. I go pick him up from work every day (car sharing situation) and when I see him walking toward the car in the rear view mirror (parked on the street in the pickup zone, him coming down the sidewalk), my heart does this little leap of joy.

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