Morning 7:00 am college lectures till 1:30, then lunch and back to hostel; in evening some light refreshment and sports time. This was used to be my daily routine when I was in one of the reputed boarding college of Chhattisgarh. Let me introduce to my lovely lady Anita madam who was our biology teacher. She too has a average height of 5 feet, skin complexion black with a voluptuous figure of 32-30-34. She always used to wear sari and she had long hairs and used to keep one strand of hair in front of her face which always would... Continue»
I came home the other night to an evening of unexpected pleasure. As it involves the man in my life, I asked his permission to share it. To my delight, he not only permitting me to write this, he insisted!
Of course, he read the comments to my last entry and the sweet emails sent by some readers. I was afraid he might be angry that some readers were flirting with me, but he only laughed and told me that of all people, he could understand the delight that people found in me!
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him as hard as I could. My affection was returned and our kiss (OUR kiss - how sweet that sounds - something neither of us could make, apart) went on a long time, our lips in tender embrace, mine parted with his rough tongue exploring mine.
His arms held me and once again I marveled at his strength and appreciated how tenderly he applied it. No woman has felt so loved and valued as I did at that moment. I loved him, I loved his affection, I loved his manhood, and I wanted just to be everything that he wanted me to be, forever. If he desired my submission, I would give it with all my heart and soul and imagination and being. If all he wanted was a sandwich, a salad, a cold glass of tea, I would provide the best one ever made. If his lust desired my body, I knew all the ways he would signal the exact pleasure that he imagined and he would have that and more, as much as I knew. I washed with a sense of appreciation for my womanhood and femininity and that he found fulfillment in me and what I was and what I offered to him, without reserve, not because of obligation but because what most fulfilled me was expressing my love for him.
I don't always have this wonderful sense of my self and my place in that world - no one does. I do understand and feel obligation to him because of our relationship and the promises we've made each other. I have done things I didn't want to or didn't understand out of that sense - it's my bottom line, I guess you'd say. Outside of friendly teasing (and that, not for long), I have denied him nothing and he knows it. That he returns my devotion and submission with love and affection and respect and the sense that I can always trust him is a delight to me. I don't give to him because of that, but it is fulfilling. Every morning I wake with the sense that I am his wife and that I know what that means. There have been vanishingly few days that I didn't go to sl**p feeling my life was that best any woman could know.
Of course, as I've written, I've given a lot. Compared to what I've read about other relationships, I mean. I'm not bragging or proud, I would give more. Infinitely.
Sorry to digress - we were kissing and still are! I wasn't thinking all those things, I was concentrating on his lips and tongue and arms, but a small part of my imagination wondered where this was going. His hands slid down my back and he rubbed my bottom roughly, pulling me tightly against him. This was unnecessary, since I was pressing myself against him already. I'm ashamed that this was involuntary, but I am human and a virile male was making love to me. My body responded by seeking closer congress. I try so hard to control myself, but I lust, people, just as you do. I felt his body responding to our embrace, which had moved just a bit past 'tender'. I marveled and thanked God silently that this man responded physically ...(kiss)...to....(kiss)...me...(kiss, again.)
I felt his hands inching my skirt up. He didn't have far to go, as I have my clothes tailored in a way unique to me. For shorter hemlines, I find the length of skirt or dress that exactly fits the current fashion and then have it altered upward by one half inch. This allowance is my reminder to myself that I dress to be appropriate for society - attractive and desirable, yes, not provocative or slutty - then I raise the hem a bit to remind myself I am a sex object for him. It's for his ... convenience.
(Ha - this will be the first time we've talked about this, I mean, when he reads it! I wonder what he'll say? See, Husband, one of the thousand secret ways I offer my everything to you.)
Our kiss, sadly, ended and I lay my head on his chest, offering my neck to his mouth. This is both a vampire fantasy, an act of submission to his virility and strength, and a chance for me to draw in his smell, which always makes me ... respond. He kissed the top of my head, which smelled gently like strawberries, that evening, and pulled my skirt all the way up, then ran his fingers down in my panties. The touch of his fingers on this tender area gave me a gasp of pleasure and he began kneading the soft flesh, taking his pleasure what must feel very feminine.
I could feel him responding to me, too.
I felt his fingers separating my cheeks and then one finger began rimming the orifice he found. This was a special treat, as he knows how sensitive I am and how much I love his attention there. He reserves this play for special occasions when he's very, very pleased with me and wants me to understand that my offering to him tonight will be to enjoy the evening rather than to ensure my pleasure through his. I am instantly thrilled, not because I know he's very skilled at pleasing me, but because I know I've made him happy.
I raise my head and look into his eyes. He sees my question and tells me he's read that article that I shared with you, dear readers, and the comments and emails it inspired. He knows my love and devotion and my philosophy of his happiness, but he appreciated my putting it in words. He is enchanted and delighted in the responses he saw and has dedicated tonight to my enchantment and delight.
Unhappily, his finger moves away with a promise to return before I sl**p. He pulls my panties back up and smoothed them over my buttocks, lingeringly, again, a promise. Finally, he pushes my skirt back down and holds me at arms length to tell me about our evening.
I know you didn't come here to read about our public time together, but I'll share just a little so you understand my mood when my devoted Husband and I again are alone. He had engaged a couple we know as masseuses to assist in our preparation for dinner tonight. First, we spent an hour in a warm, candlelit room, sipping wine and talking to each other while the husband rubbed me down and the wife massaged my husband. To my delight, they switched back and forth between us, giving each of us the feel of masculine and feminine touch. The oils they use scent the air with exotic fragrance and provide a most enchanting atmosphere. Each of us gets the full treatment, alternately, so the other gets to watch their love brought to an orgasm in the desire of full relaxation.
Finally, we relax nude on pillows on the floor, sip more wine, and watch the husband and wife please each other for our enjoyment. So much more fun than a movie, and this is just the prelude to our dinner! I am focused on enjoying this spectacle since that's why my husband told me to do, but I am his wife and I cannot help but look for his pleasure,as well. I receive several memorable smiles for my collection!
Everyone showers together, laughing and playing, and the couple bathes us with the special products they provided for this purpose. We're dried and they assist us in dressing for a formal evening. My husband has purchased a gorgeous evening gown in emerald with matching heels for me and he's engaged my favorite lingerie shop to provide underthings for my enjoyment. I am spared the silly things men think we wear for any purpose but to please them, as this is my night! The female masseuse is a makeup artist, to boot, so I am pampered fully until I am ready.
Finally, we kiss and hug the couple and wave good-by and pile into a waiting limousine. Of course there is champagne and cheese and fruit for the ride. My husband encourages me to snack freely and we kiss delightfully as we ride along.
The maitre'd of our favorite restaurant has opened his own place and this is our first chance to try it! The place looks fabulous, decorated in the style of a French chateau, and is lit only by candles. The new patron introduces the entire wait-staff and then the cook and his minions. I suddenly realize we are the only customers, tonight! My husband smiles and tells me it's all for me.
The meal, of course is fabulous and an orchestra permits us to fill pauses in the courses with dancing, so I know this is real dedication - my husband is an excellent dancer, but spoken charitably, he would never engage in the practice unless it was for my enjoyment. He knows I'm always ready for him in a physical sense, but that the music and wine and dancing make me especially receptive and responsive. Throughout, my love for this man washes over me again and again, like waves at the beach.
Oh, I almost forgot. The patron whispered to my husband and he nodded, then turned and smiled at me. The maitre'd himself brought out a small covered dish and placed it on our table. Inside were two oyster shells, piled with an unusual white flesh rimmed in pink. He told us that these are very rare and prepared especially for us.
I used a small fork to pick up the shellfish while my husband, the patron, and the maitre'd watched. The flavor was most unusual, starting with a mild seafood flavor, then ripening into something more earthy as I chewed. It was delicious and I was sad when I swallowed, looking up at the men to nod my appreciation.
Then, I orgasmed. It was not my most intense, but it was definitely up there. The men watched while I came, my body spasming and my breathe gasping. I must have ended up bug-eyed and they looked a bit alarmed, wondering at my reaction. I burst out laughing and they relaxed and joined in. I jumped up from the table and kissed all three men, thanking them for the unique experience. We shared hugs and more laughter.
I looked at the remaining plate and then at my husband. He smiled and nodded but he'd misunderstood me - I told him I wanted him to eat it. More laughter, then the patron told us that sadly, the fish had not the same effect upon men. I grinned salaciously and told him that I'd have it, "To Go". They all died laughing at my joke and then cleared the table.
I leaned over and kissed my husband and told him that I didn't need any help tonight, did I, since I had him? He affirmed my query with a smile and asked the maitre'd to order our limousine.
As we got in, I told my husband I hoped he didn't expect me to wait until we got home for the pleasure of his touch. He tried to act surprised, but I know him too well. He knows I enjoy sex in a car and this was an unusual splendor of room and pleasant surroundings. He gave instructions to the driver and the privacy panel raised.
He took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly and stroked my shoulders passionately. I signaled my desire by throwing my head back, offering my décolletage for his lips. He began kissing his favorite place, just above my breasts and I felt him unzipping the gown - I think he had the dress shop explain just how to remove it in close quarters!
Soon, he had the lovely green demi-bra exposed and his kisses moved all over my shoulders and neck, then back to my breasts. I felt the clasp release and my breasts fell free, the air in the limo cool to my nipples. I gasped then felt the warmth of his mouth surround first one, then the other. He's so very, very good at this, one arm behind me, holding me up to his head, the other caressing, rubbing, pinching, teasing whichever breast his mouth left free. In its' spare time, one hand began rubbing my belly.
A few minutes of this and I'm desperate for him to take further liberties. My knees quit pressing together in a ladylike pose some time ago and I'm making involuntary thrusts like I'm feel him already between my legs. He lays me back on the car seat and my nostrils fill with the odor of real leather and saddle soap. Am I the only woman that is encouraged by such things? I kick off my heels and thrust my hips upward and demand that my gown be fully removed with such passion that both of us burst out laughing. This is the most realistic laughter there is, readers, and is borne of our love for each other, our passion for one another's pleasure, our appreciation for the erotic symphony we've created and yes, of pure lust. Of being pleasured and enjoying it and demanding more of someone who you know is going to provide it, and not just this time, but tomorrow and the next day and the next day...but then, there's right now.
He releases another clasp and a small zipper at my waist and I feel the gown slide down my legs. An expensive pair of silk pantyhose is all that's between him and my most intimate area. I see his eyes pose a question to mine and I beg him that we can always buy another pair that for now I want him to take me as hard as he can as quick as he can.
He pulls a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket and gives me a no-nonsense look. Now, readers, this night is mine and you don't need to confuse this with a change of mood. I love having my wrists bound while my husband does whatever he wants with me - I simply love it. He bends over me and clasps my wrists in one hand and fastens the cuffs through the door handle so that I'm spread across the seat in a most vulnerable fashion. My eyes and naked breasts look up and him and a pair of silken (and sodden) pantyhose cover my belly and the rich, luxuriant growth of hair covering my pubis. He insists I wear it natural in the winter and, of course, I comply with devotion and satisfaction that there's one more way that I can please and tempt him.
He slides one hand under my butt and raises it off the seat. He pulls a switchblade out of the pocket of his jacket (when did he get that?) and moves the point opposite my pussy. My eyes widen in fear until he smiles. He tells me to hold my hips up and slides his fingers inside the hose, holding it away from my skin, and then slices the hosiery with the razor-sharp knife until it splits away, filling the back seat with the aroma of lust provided by a woman who's waited way too long this evening for her husband's most intimate attention.
With a snick the blade snaps back into the handle and he places a blindfold over my eyes. Another fetish, dear reader, and you can tell by now I enjoy my toys, can't you?. The darkness is filled with the sound of him removing his jacket, his shirt, his shoes, trousers, and underwear. When you've been together for a while, you can interpret the sounds and my imagination fills with lust for what I know is the scene before me. These kept me on the plateau of pleasure as I considered the unspoken promise yet unfulfilled.
A hand sneaks under my ass and the finger finds its' little friend yet once again and the delicious rimming continues just where it left off. Another finger finds its' way into my pussy, first pinching and stroking the lips and mons, finally entering and trying a dozen spots to caress to elicit a gasp of response. This is his tease - he knows where to touch, how hard, and when, but he denies me in the most exquisite fashion. When I think I cannot stand it anymore, I feel his lips join the game, sucking and licking and nipping, the tongue moving everywhere but to my center in an infinite counterpoint. I'm grinding against his mouth, careful not to move away from those incredible fingers, occasionally involuntarily moving to encourage their deeper exploration. I've lost all sense of time and place and am filled with only the raw sensations at the center of my pleasure. Somewhere in the middle of all this, he suddenly turns me on my tummy, I cry out in my desire,and my ass raises voluntarily to what I desire most, his powerful masculine service. I feel fingers fucking my ass, (dear, sweet Husband, please hurry!) two, then three, (I'm fucking his hand wildly) from somewhere a warm lubricant spills over my bottom (Oh, please, I beg you, please!) and I feel his sex tease the opening, the soft touch all around the rim, again, again, (You bastard, no more, its' ready, its' ready!) but I still feel the gentle, controlled stretch of the soft head (How does he control himself?) now, finally plundering (Yes!), first gently, then f***efully popping inside me. I moan (scream?) my pleasure (isn't the driver hearing all this? - I don't care I don't care I don't care) and my husband begins a rhythm of irregular strokes, some short, some long, the pattern impossible to predict, I try to f***e back for more and more as I come to enjoy the longer ones and then and then and then I press back against him to the fullest and I explode...this is my peak, my best, my best ever, I cannot ever have better, it ... goes ... on ... and on ... and ... I return to this world.
I'm still cuffed and blindfolded, totally helpless to his attentions. I feel the hair of his thighs against my buttocks and the throbbing of his orgasm as he empties into me. I try to move to give him more pleasure, but I'm helpless in my afterglow, sated to exhaustion. I hear him laugh when he realizes he's utterly defeated me.
He removes the blindfold and handcuffs and covers my neck and back with kisses as I recover. From somewhere a warm towel makes it to my hands and I roll over and wipe him off, first, to say 'Thank you' in our wordless language of true intimacy, then I clean myself. He stops me, throws the towel to the floor, takes me in his arms and asks me if I know he loves me?