A Nice, Quiet Assault

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He lay on top of the bed, reading. Just reading. He’d read for an hour, actually. Completely ignoring me. And he was looking so cute, with just his sweats on. He can’t do that, I won’t let him—be so cute and ignore me at the same time. I stomped out of the room. Nothing. No reaction. I went into the bathroom and drew a bath. Sometimes he would come in to pay attention to me and ogle my better features while I’m taking a bath. After ten minutes in the bath there was nothing. No movement. No sound. That does it. This calls for the nasty stuff.

I climbed out of the bath, dried myself off quickly (and none too well) and then grabbed some laundry cord we keep in a drawer. As I stormed out of the bathroom, I also grabbed the letter opener that sat on a table beside our living room couch. I marched right in and grabbed his book away from him, tossed it aside, and put the letter opener on his throat. “I’ve had it with you,” I hissed. “Don’t move. Just lay there nice and still and no one will get hurt.” With one long glance over my glistening body, he wasn’t even thinking about that book anymore. Heck, he may never pick it up again.

With one hand I pulled down his sweats and underwear, just so they were below his knees. His penis lay on his stomach, but it wasn’t fully hard. It was as if he didn’t know what to make of this wild woman. Heck, I didn’t either. I’ve never seen this woman before. But here she was, angry and horny and… well… ready to hurt someone. I’m not like this. I’ve never been like this. But I was today— oh, I was. He thinks he can have my affection and just treat me like a servant, not seen, not heard until he’s ready for me? I am steamed just thinking about it now! No, he had to learn his lesson. He won’t ignore me and get away with it. I made sure of that.

So there I was, a letter opener at my husband’s throat, and I had pulled his pants off and was saying, “Nice and slow, now, just put your hands up over your head.” Could I be arrested for this? Would he put a restraining order out on me? At that moment, I didn’t care. I took the cord and tied his hands together, and then wrapped it to the frame of the bed. I put it under the bed, and wrapped his feet together, and tied it to the other side of the frame. “Cozy?” I purred angrily. “We’re gunna have some fun now. I hope you’re paying attention.” Of course he was. He noted every move I made.

It is a measure of his trust that he allowed me to tie him up at all. Even if he thought I really had a knife at his throat, he could have easily taken my wrist and got up and walked away. I suppose he wanted to see how this would play out. And who could blame him? His naked wife walking in, making demands of him? What husband wouldn’t want to see what she wanted?

At the same time, every man has a measure of their sexual interest. As the gauge rises, so is their interest and expectations. My man watched me carefully. Now, usually—and I know this from experience—if he had seen me perform the calisthenics I had just maneuvered in the nude, his libido gauge would have been pointing on high. And perhaps I would have allowed him to engage in some lewd play, just for his own exercise. But after watching my breasts rise and fall, me bend before him and twist about—he was still soft and supple. Not what I wanted at all.

“What do you think this is?” I stormed as I grabbed his limp penis—not so as to hurt, mind you. “I’ve seen better cocks on a dog! And bahis firmaları what am I supposed to do with it? Run it up my leg like limp hose? You can do better than this!” I walked across the room and grabbed our liquid lubrication. I opened it and turned it upside down over him, but not squeezing. “Look,” I growled at him, “I know you want it. You know you want it. You want me to open my legs up and give it to you, hard. But I can’t until you get hard. It all depends on you. I’m going to keep dripping this lotion on you. If you want me—and I know you do—just get hard and I’ll rub it on you. All over. I’ll rub my chest against your chest, and you can have all the pleasure you can stand. All you have to do is harden up.”

I begin dropping little bits of the lubrication on his chest. I have the bottle high above him (I notice that he is staring at my breast, stretched out, taut) and see if I can hit his nipple. Dang! An inch below. Darn! A bit above.

His voice cracked as he answered me (that’s what you get when you don’t talk to your wife for hours!), “But if you would just touch me a bit, I’m sure…”

“No, no, no, no. You don’t listen very well, do you?” There! I got it. Now let’s try the other one. “I’m not going to touch you. Not any part of you. Until you harden. So you better sit up and notice.” I got the other nipple on the second try. It’s not so difficult, is it? Now let’s try his nose…

And that’s when I noticed his eyes closed— “Ah, ah, ah—no fantasies. You’ve already been engaged in a fantasy through your book for hours now…”

“It was only a half hour…”

Oops, I hit his open mouth. He spits a bit. “Oh no, longer than that, m’boy. I want you to look at me, really look. Gaze at me longingly, stare at me and harden in anticipation at the delights that my body will give to you.” Ah, I got his nose. Of course, his face has quite a bit of lubrication on it now. I bet that really itches. Dripping like that. Oh well. Down to his feet.

As I pass his midsection, I look at the gauge. Not really any better. You’d think he’d at least try. You don’t suppose that secretly he’s really enjoying it, but he’s just hiding… I glance at his gauge again. Nah. Some things a guy just can’t hide. This is one of them. What’s the matter with him? Is he becoming incapable?

“So,” he says casually as I drip lubrication on his toes, one by one, “what kinds of delights did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” I respond, focused on my target practice. “What do you think?”

“Well, the last thing I would want is to have you rub that lubrication on me. That wouldn’t be pleasurable at all.”

I chuckled as I aimed at his middle toe, right foot, “Don’t pull a br’er rabbit on me, m’boy. I know all the tricks. Come up with something else. Really, what do you want?”

“Well, would I be able to move freely? To increase my pleasure?”

Finally, I got the last toe! Now I aim at his mole in the center of his left thigh. “Of course not. At this rate, you’re stuck there for the whole night.”

“Well, what I really want is to caress your breasts. To just have you lay down next to me, and I can stroke them and kiss them softly… then I would slip my tongue over your nipple and feel it harden under my silky caress…”

My aim was decidedly off. Twenty tries, and that mole eludes me. My skin tingles as my mind’s eye feels his gaze pressing my chest and fingering my nipples, kaçak iddaa cupping my breasts, adoring them.

He softly speaks again, “But if I’m not allowed to touch you, to place my hands on your body and stroke you, then you could walk right up here to my head, place your thighs on either side of me and place your vagina right on my mouth.”

Forget the mole. It’s just not worth it. What other target haven’t I tried? Oh, the big one, right in the middle. It’s growing. I bet I couldn’t miss that.

“I would love,” he breathed, “to taste you, to smell your sexy fragrance, to put myself deeply inside of you and to stroke you with my tongue. It would feel so good to be inside you…”

I hit his penis twenty times now. It’s as big as a log. He’s ready.

But I just want to hear those words flow over me, guide my mind. I don’t want him to stop. “If my hands were free, I would stroke your bottom as I licked you gently and reach over and caress your thighs as you came on top of me.”

My hands trembled as I touched his pelvis, spreading the lubrication over his skin. I climbed on top of his legs and stroked his member, smoothing out all the rough places. “Nice, very nice, little boy. You tell a good story. Now be good as momma does something for herself.”

He looked at me quizzically, “I thought you were going to give me delights?”

I lifted myself up, aimed him at the target, and placed him in the launching station. “Oh, yeah. You’ll get them.” I slowly lowered myself onto him, feeling his hard warmth fill me. “In just a minute.” I pushed my pelvis forward. Not quite. “Or two.” I pushed it again, just slightly adjusting my movement. Yeah. That’s it. “Or—oh—however long it takes.”

I don’t know how long it took. Longer than a minute, that’s for sure. But I think he enjoyed my thrashing about and moaning and overall pleasure. At least his gauge never faltered. It remained upright the whole time. He probably kept his focus on me pleasuring myself on him. Men are so self-centered. Always thinking about what they can get. But this night I got what I wanted.

Finally I collapsed on his chest, a little worn from the exertion. Wow, he was slippery. Oh, yeah, the lubrication I put all over his chest. Felt good really. He remained within me as I caught my breath on him. I felt a little push within me, which indicated that he was ready for some attention. I put my hand on his chest and said, “Just wait a bit. I’m a bit sensitive, after going.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he mumbled.

I raised myself off his chest a bit, “Are we a bit testy? Feel a little left out?”

“Mmm” he grunted. Why the lack of response? Because he was staring at my naked cleavage between my arms, hovering over his chest. That’s when I got my other nasty idea. I don’t know why I am so bad. It just comes in spurts, so to speak. I’m usually very nice. But I do feel sorry for my husband. Sometimes. When I’m not mean to him.

“You know what?” I purred. I was really feeling good now. I just was going for excess. “I really liked what you were talking about before. About stroking me. And licking me. I know that’s what you really want. You told me so. So let’s do it now. I want to come on your mouth.” Slowly, I slipped him out of me, making him feel every deliciously agonizing millimeter. As he fell out of me and onto his stomach, he grunted a bit. Mourning, I suppose. “First, you’re going to caress my breasts. kaçak bahis Oh wait… You don’t have any hands. Darn. I’ll have to help you then. You can just caress me with your nipples. Are they hard? Let’s take a feel.” I straddled his stomach (landing his penis right between my buttocks—oh, I couldn’t have planned that better if I tried) and pinched his nipples simultaneously. I giggled as his penis pushed up deeper in me. “Not bad, but let’s see if we can get them better.” I scooted myself forward ( I don’t want him going too soon) and started to work.

I don’t know how long it was. Nipple caressing can take a long time. If my nipples are being caressed, I think a half hour isn’t too short. Unless, of course, they’re sensitive. That’s not fun. Oh, but this was. To hear him moan and carry on, you would think I was giving him a delightful blow job. But oral sex is just too quick. Five, ten minutes, tops. Nipple caressing can last for ages. Every once in a while, I would slide my bottom back to check his gauge—no lack of interest there!—then I would slide back again. From all that lubrication, we were both pretty slickery, I’d say.

Once I was ready, I lowered my breasts over his chest, and stroked my nipples against his. This did nothing for me, although, I dare say, he enjoyed it. But I was ready for something nice. So I put my nipples in his mouth, and he tasted them like delicate candies that melt as you place them on your tongue. My nipples unfolded, responding to the gentle caresses, the lingering sweetness of his attention. He stroked me so softly, just as he promised, that I almost forgave him anything he might have done that day.

But not so much that I would forgo the fantasy he placed in my head. Sitting above him, I reached down to my vulva and opened up my lips to his lips, descending upon his tongue. He didn’t enter me deeply, though. Rather, he pressed against my clitoris, and moved against it, heavy but continuous. Instantly, I was awakened, and I bent down to put my fingernails through his public hair as he gave me pleasure. He was perfect, and soon I found myself caressing his balls and kissing his penis as I felt the warmth of pleasure rush through me.

In the lingering aftermath, I kept kissing. Then I licked. He licked back, and I realized he was still tied and my bottom was in his face. I got up off of him and looked at him. He was a mess. Lubrication everywhere—even in his hair. Tied up and his hands looked a bit blue. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Really, I’m so sorry, this must have been terrible…” I mantrad as I untied his hands and feet. He stretched as he lay, rubbing his wrists and ankles. “Is there anything, anything I can do? I am truly so-”

He stopped my eternal apologies with a touch of his finger on my mouth. Then he whispered in my ear, “Sit on me, facing away from my face.”

Immediately I did as he said, sitting on his stomach. His penis was below me, and I caressed him. “Put me in you,” he whispered, and I obeyed, playing the part of the good wife. “Now lay back on me.” That was a bit tricky. You can’t actually do that, but you can put your arms back on the bed and lean back. He pumped into me, and it felt good, having his firm loving push into my vagina and butt. But better than all that, as he was pushing into me, he caressed my breasts, softly, lovingly, rubbing my nipples until I begged him to stop.

He climaxed almost immediately. Yeah, that was fun. But attacking him like that! I didn’t know I had it in me. And he seemed to really enjoy it. Torturing is so entertaining! I wonder what I could do to make him beg to have me sit on his face? The possibilities are endless…

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