Mind blowing spanking

So, back to our kinky sex and amazing spankings. Any objections? No. Good.

Disclaimer before I begin: The spanking that blew my mind was interestingly not one on my backside. A thigh and pussy spanking seemed to be what my husband was in the mood for, and he gets what he wants.

It had been a couple of days since we've had sex, and my husband disappeared into our bedroom right around 9:00 on Friday. I was sending a few emails in the living room, thinking he would come back and we'd watch something, when he poked his head out. "Are you coming to bed, girl-person?" he asked me.

"I... didn't know we were going to bed," I said, surprised, looking at the time.

"We are going to bed." His tone indicated he had plans.

Set straight

I spent a good chunk of yesterday reading conversations that I had with my husband in the days immediately following his first visit to see me, when we'd been ripped apart and we were both miserable with longing.

The man worshiped me.

I brought him home from work in the evening and various distractions led to not much time to connect between us, and I began to feel sad. We went to bed and he ordered me to face him so he could look at me. I rolled toward him and buried my face in his shoulder, but he wasn't having it. He pulled my head up by the hair to look at my face. I closed my eyes.

"Open your eyes," he said.

I whimpered.

"Come on. Don't make me make you."

I opened them. Tried to focus on my own image in his eye. "So hard," I whined. I've been known to gaze raptly, adoringly, into this man's eyes for a long, long time, so this wasn't normal behavior for me. I think part of the difficulty was coming from how I was feeling: sad, disconnected, neglected, and just not wanting to be open enough for him to see I was feeling that way because I knew it was unreasonable.

"Why is it so hard?" he asked.

I whined again. "Because you can see me."

"I like to see you," he whispered softly. As I looked at him, I felt all my concerns disappear into the blue pools of his eyes. When I buried my head in his shoulder again, it was out of an overwhelming surge of affection and tenderness.

I made a suggestion while we talked afterward that made him very unhappy. It involved me leaving this place for a while, being separated from him for an extended period, for several reasons that in practice were very logical. The heart isn't logical, though. "You don't get to give yourself to me and then take yourself away," he said. "How could you even suggest that? You were reading today... surely you know how unhappy we were apart? Surely you remember how awful that was."

I do remember. I don't want to live through it again.

He held me a while longer, his hands stroking my body, and then he asked what I was thinking. "Are you thinking you need a beating? I think you need a beating, trying to get away from me. Turn over."

I turned on my side, facing away from him. "More," he said. I rolled onto my stomach. His hand smacked my ass several times, making me gasp. He rummaged in the drawer for a while, gathering things, and then I felt a soft flogger, which drew soft purrs of pleasure from me. "You go with me, slut," he said, his other hand stroking my hair. "You don't get to leave me, sweet slut. My sweet girl." A more painful flogger landed across my backside then, and he kept swinging it.

"I never wanted to leave you," I managed, feeling it was important to say that. I never would want that, but we could make it through if it was more reasonable to do.

"Mmhmm, then why you come up with such a horrible idea?" He kept flogging me and I was starting to squirm and twist. He was hitting my sit spots with the flogger too, and he stopped once in a while to smack with his hand. I felt myself growing wet for him, and I couldn't reason enough to carry on conversation, so I just moaned.

He put the flogger down, and then he went back in the drawer. I felt the wooden spoon stroke across my ass, and I inhaled sharply. He did mean to leave an impression. 5 smacks with it, I think, and I was squealing helplessly, each one feeling completely unendurable. "You learned your lesson?" he asked me, gathering me into his arms.

"Yeah, I think so."

"What's that, then?"

"That you don't like me thinking of us being apart."

"Good girl," he said, kissing my head.

"You did ask what I was thinking, though," I defended myself. Not that I mind the spanking at all, but it's not like I had planned the whole thing out.

He agreed with me. I really didn't know just the thought of it would shake him so badly.

A brief interlude later and we were kissing each other with hot, steamy kisses. He was stroking my hair and face, and he pulled my shirt off so he could touch the rest of me. He started brushing his fingertips across my nipple oh so very very lightly, and it felt like absolute magic, heaven dancing across my breast. My mouth opened wide and I moaned loudly as he kept doing it. "I think you like having your nipples touched," he said. Mmm, master of observation, isn't he? I squirmed in the circle of his arms and tugged a bit on my wrist that he was holding, for the sheer joy of feeling his strength.

He pushed my thighs apart and his fingertip stroked my clit. "Mmm, a little excited here, aren't we?" he asked as I gasped and squirmed more. He teased me, slipping his fingers just barely inside, then sliding his fingers all around the sensitive membranes, then brushing across my clit again. I bucked and wriggled and moaned, and he fastened his lips to mine and took my noises into himself. "You like this, don't you?" he asked.

I managed something resembling a positive response, as he didn't stop for me to gather breath for words.

"Mmmm, then how would you like me doing this while you suck my cock? Yeah? Let's find out." He turned completely around then, on his side. I was stunned. He's a lot taller than I am and the few times we've tried 69 didn't really come out that well, I thought, but it was very sexy that he was willing to try again.

He gave me a moment to adjust to his positioning, to get his cock in my mouth, before he shoved my legs open again and slid his fingers between them, whispering "Good girl," as I opened them wider for him. Then I was screaming from the overwhelming sensations of cock in my mouth and fingers on my pussy. I screamed around his cock as I sucked, and then he started slowly thrusting in my mouth while his fingers plundered my pussy, and I moaned and screamed every time I had air to do so. I wasn't really in control of anything, and he put me even less in control when he rolled atop me, thrusting down into my willing mouth and throat. I grasped helplessly at his lower back, bucking under his ministrations, sucking as best I could through the screams and the moans as his cock entered, opened my throat, stopped my breath, and withdrew, allowing my moans and screams out, then starting the whole cycle over again.

Then I felt his mouth lower onto my pussy, felt his moans, his tongue, against my sensitive membranes, as his fingers continued sliding into me, as his cock continued fucking my face, and I lost my mind. I screamed, then sucked hard on his cock, pulling him down into me as hard as I could as I just absolutely lost it. I heard and felt his moans as well, and he came down my throat not long after. I sucked the orgasm from him hungrily, clutching him to me even as he thrust.

He stayed like that for a while longer, continued playing with me, letting me suck his softening cock, before he moved off me. I whimpered, bucking my hips, missing him. "Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet," he said, sliding his arm around me again, kissing me as his fingers moved down to stroke many more orgasms out of me.

Want to leave him? Never.

Best. Sex. Ever. (for now)

He wrote me a letter yesterday, telling me how awesome he thinks I am and how fantastic a wife and mother and person I am in general. He ended it saying that he could go on, but our child was in bed and we were alone and we should probably be doing other things with our time.

That made me smile.

I went to bed, and I was reading while he finished his bedtime stuff. I've been hoping to finish the novel.

"I want you to put the book down," he told me as he joined me in bed.

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah. I do. Though I suppose," he said as he landed a smack on my ass, "that I could do things to you while you read." He hit me a few more times.

I couldn't really focus, so I put the book down and turned toward him, smiling. He pulled my knees open and slapped my inner thigh, hard. I gasped and closed my legs.

"Awww, what's the matter?" he asked.

"It hurts!" I responded.

"Oh, huh. You know, it does hurt my hand a bit. You don't want me to hurt my hand, is that it?" He hit my hip, and my other hip. I squealed and wriggled, trying to turn away. He snaked his other hand behind my head and grabbed my wrist, holding it over my head.

He zeroed in on my breasts, and started hitting them, two or three blows and then switching to the other one. "Oooh, this doesn't hurt my hand at all. I bet it doesn't hurt you either, huh?" he asked.

"It does," I whispered, whimpering with each blow, heat spreading across my body.

"Are you sure?" he kept on going.

"Mmhmm," I panted between soft moans when he hit me.

"I think maybe you're feeling it wrong," he told me, continuing on as I writhed in his grasp, pulling at my wrist a bit. "I never got a chance to take you up on that blowjob you offered me last night. It's not too late to do that now, is it?"

I shook my head against his shoulder. He hit my breasts a few more times, not releasing his grip on my wrist.

An attempt at temptation

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Incredible

Sometimes he's so incredible he takes my breath away.

He doesn't withdraw from me. I can see, if he were a different man, this tragedy having an adverse affect on our intimacy. I spend a great deal of time crying, great heaving sobs wracking my body. He holds me.

I blew up at something, some stupid exchange yesterday. We were going to work out but the place was being cleaned, and I wanted him to walk faster. I was cold. He was wearing a jacket, and I hadn't worn one because working out generally makes it not necessary until we can get back home.

"It's not that cold!" he told me.

"Says the man wearing a jacket!" I snapped back, and stormed off in the wrong direction. He followed me, all the way back home via the scenic route around the complex. I came in, near tears, and my mom asked why we were back already, if we wanted to watch something. "I want to go to bed," I managed to get out past the blockage in my throat, and swept past her to curl myself into a ball on my bed. She gracefully kept our child with her, and he followed me, wrapped his arms around me as my dam burst and I cried.

He had me turn over so he could hold me better, held me there as I cried, thoroughly wetting his sweatshirt. He whispered sweet words to me, wished that he could make it better. No one can make this better, but he handled this, handled me, so well. He held me there for a long time. I slept a little, but didn't realize it. "Did I sleep?" I asked him, much later.

"A little."

"Did I snore?"

"A little."

We got up and rejoined my mom and our child, I made dinner, we watched a movie.

Spectacular

Spectacular, spectacular. No words in the vernacular
Can describe this great event
You'll be dumb with wonderment

I borrowed the words from Moulin Rouge, but they still apply.

After we retired to our bedroom for the night, I settled down in his arms. I asked him if he'd like for me to do more of the heavy lifting for our interaction per Duality's most excellent suggestion, and he turned me down cold. "That doesn't sound nearly as enjoyable." We talked a bit more, and I told him I just didn't want him to wear himself out, that I was okay with working harder.

He thanked me for my concern, reiterated that he was fine, that it wasn't necessary, then started kissing me. Long, slow, languorous kissing that was steamy hot even before his hand made its way to my throat, spread itself there, and squeezed. I made pleased noises into his mouth that got louder as his hand grew tighter, and he kept tightening it. He squeezed probably harder than he's ever done and I made my pleasure at this sensation known with my gasps of delight. "I don't touch you enough," he whispered, letting go of my throat and sliding both of his hands under my nightshirt and all over my body. I purred. He pushed the shirt up over my head and off my body, then kept stroking me heatedly, ending with his hands cupping my breasts.

He always wins in the end

We played a board game, and by luck of the spinner, or choices, or whatever, I came out better than he did. It's mostly a chance thing rather than skill, and I didn't even win - but I came out better than he did.

Later, after we went to bed and were snuggling:

"You're mine."
"Uh-huh."
"That means I can do whatever I want with you."
"Uh-huh."
"I could beat you up if I want."
"mmhmm."
"I could put you in whatever position I wanted and fuck your brains out."
"mmhmm." I shuddered at the thought.
"Have you been a good girl?"
"Yes." I knew I had been, I hadn't done anything wrong, was completely naked so I couldn't have forgotten to take off my pants, hadn't ignored him at any point. I baked homemade cookies! Of course I'd been good.
"I dunno about that. I seem to recall someone here challenging me and taking all my pieces."
I laughed, "I can't help it if you suck at that game."
"I can," pinching my nipple hard, "and I'm about to show you what I can help."

The consequences of forgetting

This is long. I go a little overboard on the details. Apologies. Mmm.

He's told me not to wear pants to bed, but there's this period of time  after I bathe and before we go to bed when pants are necessary due to shared living space. They were long underwear this time, actually. He was brushing his teeth and doing other get-ready-for-bed things, and I, already having done all those things, slipped under the sheet and started reading my book. He joined me and started talking to me, slipped his hand under my shirt to stroke my breasts. He mentioned that I'd probably like a little more attention from him, more often, and I agreed.

"But you'll take what you get, won't you?" and I agreed with that as well. His hand wandered downward, then paused.

"What's this?" he asked, fingering the waistband.