third

It’s the third night in a row.

My left wrist is tied to the bed frame. “Please don’t tie my other one. I promise I won’t move it,” I plead.  And I don’t.

His tongue shoves between my labia. Stubbly, now. No different than his beard. Almost violent licking and sucking.

“Taste yourself.” He rubs his face on mine.

His collarbone is pronounced in his position and in this light. His shoulder looks stronger, more powerful.

His movements are purposeful. Not calculated, not yet. But he knows what he wants.

The first orgasm spreads over me, all over my entire body.

My legs are trembling as he bends down to relentlessly assault my nipples. Only, I tacitly agree to the onslaught. His massive cock unceasing in its goal.

There’s the second one.

He’s shoving himself in my face now. I lick and suck and writhe. Once more he moves back down to fuck me.

The third is a surprise.

Back up to straddle my chest, to drill into my open mouth, to stretch my aching jaw to the limit.

He grabs my hand, placing it on his cock. Very soon after, my chest and neck are covered. “For the third night in a row, that’s a lot.” I clean up using his pajama pants.

My wrist is freed from the rope. I loose the other one from the invisible bond I’d placed on it.

This night, there’s not much after-talking. Just the comfort of knowing we’re getting it right, once more again.

 

 

 

break

It’s pretty rare that M will refer to something he’s read here. He reads, usually, but has remained fairly hands-off. Last night, after filing our taxes (a chore that turned out to be easy, even giving us a few laughs), M disappeared into the bedroom for a few minutes, purportedly to look for a book he wanted to start reading. I looked over and he seemed to be fiddling with the bedcovers, which I thought was odd. He came back out and sat down on the couch, and said, “I’m sorry I gave you whiplash last week.”
“Thanks, I guess.”

We looked at a few naked pictures of Violet + Rye. I am typically only able to use onomatopoeia to describe their hotness. He then led me into the bedroom, and roughly shoved me face down onto the bed. My mind immediately started fogging up. My hands were tied above my head, each to a corner of the bed, where his earlier preparations had left us a rope secured for each hand. My clothes were off somehow. He was all over me, fingers, tongue. I briefly popped back into full consciousness when he stroked my sides in the way that makes me remember the ugliness. I jerked away almost violently. He moved onto other areas. The pleasant fog re-descended.

Over lunch  today I told M that I felt that because this is new for both of us that there’s some learning we both have to do. He can be kind of… bull-in-a-china-shop on occasion, forgetting his strength and weight and where he is in space. There were a few moments of “OUCH” in the midst of all the pleasure. But we found our angle, and rhythm, and it was good. There was spanking, with hands and paddle as he fucked me over the edge of the bed. I loved it.

But then, suddenly, I snapped into awareness and needed to take a break. I told him this and crawled up the bed (I’d been untied at this point) to shiver and weep in the fetal position. It bothered me that he just stood there, watching. Finally I gathered up the strength to extend an arm to him and he was instantly at my side, stroking my arms and hair and face as I came back to the surface completely.

He kissed me, and then he was on top of me, thrusting into my still-wet pussy. After a time, his orgasm triggered mine. He rolled off and after a bit, we drifted off to sleep together in the bed for the first time in a while.