Dear Dirty Diary - part 10

Dear Dirty Diary,

Over the rest of the visit, Louise and I wandered through the shops down in Huntingdon while Doug explored the area. He seemed infatuated with Lake St. Francis, I suppose because it was reminiscent of Lake Ontario. On our drive back home, he behaved himself admirably, deep in thought. By the end of the following week, he informed me everything was under control. The conniving old fool had talked our k**s into moving into the Marina condo for the year. Erin had an opportunity for a good job with GM and Jeremy would be graduated from university and entering the work f***e after the New Year. When Louise confirmed she’d set up Our.Little.Secret as a hotmail address, I realized our lives had shifted to a new plateau.

Doug studied Louise’s plans for our apartment and came to the conclusion all we really needed were our personal possessions and clothes, plus some furniture. Since the doctor suggested that the head of our bed be raised to help his condition, Doug decided to leave the waterbed behind and build a new bed himself for the apartment. He labored lovingly much of September, on building his king-sized captain’s bed. However, all of that sawing and sanding left many little cuts and sliver rips on his soft hands. Every time he touched my tender bits, his fingers felt like poker-hot sandpaper sticks. Hand crème soothed his skin, but did little to cool down his touch.

Sorting through old keepsakes one day, I found my wedding dress. In a little plastic bag were my bridal veil, stockings, a spare garter, silky French-cut panties plus my sheer white nylon gloves. I decided for Doug that he needed a break from sanding the headboard, so I undressed and laid out my bridal accessories. I put on the gloves first so that I couldn’t catch a run in my nylons and tugged them on. I still loved the sensual thrill of nylon stockings shivering up my legs, but with the gloves on, I couldn’t feel the roughness of my nails or the heat from my fingers on my legs. My fingers felt cool and detached, almost like someone else was dressing me. I stepped into and slid up my shiny white panties. Then for the first time in twenty-six years, I felt a lacy garter squeeze up my thigh. As I smoothed out the wrinkles on my veil, dabbed some of Doug’s favorite perfume in the usual places and called down to him.
Surprisingly, he was at the bedroom door in no time. He was puffing a bit from climbing all those stairs, but his eyes were sparkling in wonderment at the vision of his blushing bride. He was smitten by the time my perfume hooked into his nostrils. Entranced by my seductive spell, his eyes burned over every inch of my body, as he walked slowly toward me.

I held out one hand like a crossing guard, stopped him in his tracks and told him, “Not with those rough hands, Buster!”

I pulled off my left glove, guided it onto his scratchy fingers and stretched it halfway up his big palm. His expression was priceless but when I unbuttoned his shirt and tugged down his track pants, he was dumbstruck. However, when my trousseau-gloved fingertips glided across his chest, around his nipples and tickled down his belly, he shivered in delight. When he felt my silken fingers slip down into his under shorts and swirl all over his half-aroused penis, he immediately got the message.

Backing up, I enticed him along by ever so lightly kneading his penis. When my calves bumped into something behind me, my knees buckled and I fell right back into bed. Doug was laying beside me in an instant, polishing my breasts and coolly tickling my nipples blush pink with my glove. I saw his wide-open mouth lunge toward my left nipple and felt his cheeks suction my aureole between his teeth. As his teeth clamped tighter and tighter on the base of my teat, my clit tingled. I felt his quick, cool swirl shiver around my right nipple and then whisk up my neck to my ear lobe. It swept back down my chest and then gave my swollen teat a silken little twist. Next, I felt his fingertips fan down my belly, slip right under my panties’ waistband and scoot over my pubes.

As I polished his corona shiny and purple, he went right in for the kill! I felt one fingertip plow right down through my furrow, then press firmly into my pussy. Ten seconds of steady pressure relaxed my vulva and I felt the silkiness sink into my little well. I felt a few raspy double-finger swishes froth me up and I quivered in delight as he mopped pussy juice up to my anxious little clitoris. Three or four more trips to the well had my clit slippery, slimy and screaming for salvation

I pushed those sweltering hot nylon French panties down around my thighs, dragged Doug over and under me by his penis and lifted my left leg up as far as my stretched underpants would allow. He squeezed under me and I felt it push against my vulva. There’s no thrill in life like feeling a hot dry penis sear into one’s tight but juicy pussy. With a few pumps and a few humps I was loose and ready for action. Somehow sensing exactly what would light my fire, he slipped his gloved hand under my raised leg to give me the old double poke. He pulled his penis back out of the way briefly, and I felt that stiff old index finger slide in. It swished around inside, sopping up all the juice it could find, then pulled out and smeared it all over my right nipple!

He seared his penis back in again, stroked me juicy again and then pulled out for another poke. The perfume of pussy was overwhelming as he spread my vaginal fluid all over my other nipple. He shoved back into me and pumped me creamy once more. Then Doug reached up, grabbed my right hand and dragged it down across my pubes. He guided my index finger with his and pressed it into my pussy beside his penis, then sloshed it around inside as he pumped.

I questioned the perversity of his newest unnatural intrusion but feeling his penis thrust away up inside me while our fingers mucked made me feel so wicked. Doug shoved our fingers in deep during an outstroke, then immediately thrust his penis back in. My shocked vagina squawked in protest for three agonizing strokes, then he mercifully withdrew both our fingers to end my pussy stretch. He guided my hand back up but when he noticed an obscenely gooey white vaginal discharge on my finger, he gathered some of it on his fingertip, licked some of it off with his tongue and then carried the rest down to my clit. As his finger rubbed my secretion over my clitoris, I closed my eyes and sucked the remnants off my finger. God only knows what it was but it surely must have been the true essence of lust.

Doug pushed his penis in as far as it would go and continued tickling the tip of my clit raw with his scratchy thumb. I was really tender and wanted to cum with the taste of lust fresh on my tongue, so I asked him if he was close. “Pretty soon,” which really meant god knows how long, came from his lips as he ravaged my clit. I pushed his fingers away before he turned me right off, reached around and grabbed my trusty hand vibrator. Between the tangle of arms, legs and my knickers, I maneuvered it down and found my clitoris. It felt so good, but something was missing.

I slid it down a fraction, so the top edge of the knob shook the underside of my clit, while its bottom side rested on Doug’s penis. I knew from experience this would speed his ejaculation. I moaned for effect, but with each thrust, the inside of his thigh plowed the vibrator down my slit. On one stroke, he drew back too far and his penis slipped out. The vibrator’s head dropped for a second and must have caught that hyper sensitive spot on the back of his corona. The next thing I knew, I could feel hot semen spurting out all over everywhere! It was all over my slit, all over my clit and was running down the crack of my bum. It was all over my fingers, all over the vibrator and halfway up my belly. I was all splattered up and it felt absolutely wonderful!

Doug pushed his still-pulsing penis back into me in time for me to feel one last pump gush deep in my vagina. I planted the vibrator tight against my clit to finish myself off as he began to shrivel. However, the vibrations traveled through to him and it began to grow again. That amused me. But when he began to stroke again, that excited me! Doug must have seen my chest begin to flush and my nipples start to swell. My wave crested the second he reached over and grasped both my teats! My wave crashed into foam as I squeezed down hard on his fat penis!

I let Doug bask in his afterglow while I tidied myself up. Post-orgasmic reality crept in as his milt dribbled out of me into the toilet bowl. When I surveyed the mess I was in, I found that cooling sticky semen was splattered all over my pubes and down the insides of my thighs. What was so exciting four minutes before, now seemed so gross. I stared down between my ankles at my pristine panties and saw them all soaked with spent sperm. As my formerly innocent undies soaked with Zero in the sink, I stepped into the shower. Lots of soap and a thorough rinse made me feel squeaky clean and virtuous for a change.

As my husband watched me dress, I asked him if he was 100% sure about moving to Quebec, just to satisfy my current cravings.

“If I thought living the rest of your life with a self-righteous motherhood complex were good for you, I’d question our direction,” he replied.

“However,” he continued, “I have witnessed and read in your diary of a transition no man in his right mind would wish to reverse.” Doug grabbed me by the shoulders, turned me to the mirror and said: “Look at you. Your lust and passion has made you a goddess in my eyes. Don’t ever have second thoughts on enjoying Louise or that beautiful body you’ve been out of touch with for so many years. Without your lust, those tender bits of yours will shrivel up and die. And that would be a crying shame!”

In return, I asked him if this life we were entering might be one he could feel good about. “Laura, in case you haven’t realized, I’ve had more erections in the last year than the previous twenty combined and I’m hoping this is a trend that will continue,” my husband stated with conviction.

When I asked him if helping me stay hopelessly addicted to pleasuring my body was to be his main goal in retirement, he nodded and said, “I don’t know if letting me watch you make out with Louise that night was the easiest thing on my poor old heart, but I’m sure watching you work out on that old exercise bike of yours would be excellent therapy.”

This request was clearly, yet another invasion of my privacy and I wanted to punch him in the gut for being such a voyeur. But I remembered how liberal and supportive he’d been lately and settled for an icily noncommittal, “We’ll see.”

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Categories: FetishMature
Posted by AdorableLaura
4 years ago    Views: 770
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4 years ago
We´ll see! ;-)P
4 years ago
this is the sweetest & best series on here!!!!! so please keep writting