Back, at last, after a lengthy Christmas and New Year break. (It would be a bit sad, wouldn't it, if I had time to do it more reliably?).
My lover and I have gone to some trouble to gradually put our respective families on a friendly footing. This works out well; though unfortunately, it did not mean I got to see her New Year’s Eve as we’d planned, and we ended up at different dos. They came round to ours for a little get-together another day, though – and it was nice to hear my partner talking approvingly of B’s parenting skills afterwards. For that matter, I was gratified to hear B complement my partner, in a subsequent debriefing session (haha); confirming my own opinion that she's been looking considerably more chic and lighter on her feet of late.
B was looking good, too: wearing jewellry I'd given her and a skirt I'd bought for her birthday, late last year; a black, layered little number, which swings and flares nicely when she walks.
(Honestly, I’m unafraid out there in the glossy world of girlie things – the only problem I have is lack of infinite funds. “Is there something else we could show you?” they asked me in a jewellery shop one day. “Don’t tempt me,” I warned, minded to invest in half their stock; “I’m at a very difficult age.”)
Doubtless, this was a territorial stratagem on B’s part – wanting to be marked as mine and remind me that she’s my girl - but I appreciated the gesture, since I really don’t get enough opportunities to see her in things I’ve given her.
We had a bit of a ding-dong just before Christmas over this very issue, as it happens. B was resentful of spending on other 'friends'. There are loads of reasons why this wasn’t fair or reasonable; though of course, being fair and reasonable isn’t in her job description, I must admit. For starters, any spending ought, by rights, to be on my partner, not my lover; as I pointed out. And most of it is on holidays, which means it’s on me, really. A few gifts don’t make me the soft touch she assumes. I mean, I know someone who was given a BMW convertible, for fuck’s sake - now that woman has got a proper sugar daddy! Me, I’m just an average Joe who knows his way around a clothes store. What’s more, it’s unfair, because she gets a lot of offerings – I mean, apart from lingerie and hotel bills. They’re just little gifts - a gesture to show I’m thinking of her all the time when we’re not together – but they’re things which by rights her partner ought to be giving her: jackets and knitwear and dresses and jewellery, gloves and hats, a watch, shoes, etc.
I understand, of course. At home, she’s someone’s mum, someone’s partner. But with me, she’s simply an object of desire and that’s what she wants: to be the babe, to be the glamorous mistress, spoilt with treats. So she doesn’t want that role usurped by someone else, someone younger. Problem is, there are unwritten rules. If I’m away with a friend like K for a few days (while my lover is on holiday with her family, playing dutiful wifey to Bugger-lugs), then my companion is entitled to my devotion and attention and indulgence in all its forms; just as my partner is when I’m with her, and just as B would be, if she was able to get away with me. And this is how it works: you're out together, you see something which would look good on her, so maybe you treat her. She’s happy. Then, when you're together that evening, she wears it for you. You admire her in it and you’re both happy. You get back to the hotel, and take it off her. Simple. You can be given the odd pair of earrings to show someone cares; but I’m not sure you can always have the the full kit without the man getting to enjoy you in it; you can’t have things simply because you live with some unimaginative, tight-fisted, boorish, indolent fart who forgets your birthday and buys you an egg whisk for Christmas! It’s not really on, I feel.
Nevertheless, the festive season was fast approaching and I love her to distraction, so what could I do? A little spoiling was in order. At the end of the day, I had to get her nice presents – ones which answered her hints about warm yet cute nightclothes, perhaps – because if I didn’t, I knew her lazy husband wouldn’t and then she’d have made all the effort at Christmas for everyone else and no one would have been thinking of her pleasure, of what she needed. And yet…….. And yet why was I making a woman look cute and desirable for my ‘rival’, and at bedtime, too, for Christsakes – when he couldn’t himself be arsed to get her anything much (and when I wouldn’t even see her in them)? Readers will surely appreciate my predicament.
Then I hit on a solution: a pyjama party! I’d give the presents to her at hotel meetings and break them in, so to speak, before sending her home in them! Perfect. I had to give her one warm, cuddly pair of pyjamas to open at Christmas without an opportunity to fuck her in them: so I made the requirement that she masturbate wearing them instead, and let me have the details by email. The other gifts would wait til we met up, and I could get to enjoy them on her, and her in them…...
My lover and I have gone to some trouble to gradually put our respective families on a friendly footing. This works out well; though unfortunately, it did not mean I got to see her New Year’s Eve as we’d planned, and we ended up at different dos. They came round to ours for a little get-together another day, though – and it was nice to hear my partner talking approvingly of B’s parenting skills afterwards. For that matter, I was gratified to hear B complement my partner, in a subsequent debriefing session (haha); confirming my own opinion that she's been looking considerably more chic and lighter on her feet of late.
B was looking good, too: wearing jewellry I'd given her and a skirt I'd bought for her birthday, late last year; a black, layered little number, which swings and flares nicely when she walks.
(Honestly, I’m unafraid out there in the glossy world of girlie things – the only problem I have is lack of infinite funds. “Is there something else we could show you?” they asked me in a jewellery shop one day. “Don’t tempt me,” I warned, minded to invest in half their stock; “I’m at a very difficult age.”)
Doubtless, this was a territorial stratagem on B’s part – wanting to be marked as mine and remind me that she’s my girl - but I appreciated the gesture, since I really don’t get enough opportunities to see her in things I’ve given her.
We had a bit of a ding-dong just before Christmas over this very issue, as it happens. B was resentful of spending on other 'friends'. There are loads of reasons why this wasn’t fair or reasonable; though of course, being fair and reasonable isn’t in her job description, I must admit. For starters, any spending ought, by rights, to be on my partner, not my lover; as I pointed out. And most of it is on holidays, which means it’s on me, really. A few gifts don’t make me the soft touch she assumes. I mean, I know someone who was given a BMW convertible, for fuck’s sake - now that woman has got a proper sugar daddy! Me, I’m just an average Joe who knows his way around a clothes store. What’s more, it’s unfair, because she gets a lot of offerings – I mean, apart from lingerie and hotel bills. They’re just little gifts - a gesture to show I’m thinking of her all the time when we’re not together – but they’re things which by rights her partner ought to be giving her: jackets and knitwear and dresses and jewellery, gloves and hats, a watch, shoes, etc.
I understand, of course. At home, she’s someone’s mum, someone’s partner. But with me, she’s simply an object of desire and that’s what she wants: to be the babe, to be the glamorous mistress, spoilt with treats. So she doesn’t want that role usurped by someone else, someone younger. Problem is, there are unwritten rules. If I’m away with a friend like K for a few days (while my lover is on holiday with her family, playing dutiful wifey to Bugger-lugs), then my companion is entitled to my devotion and attention and indulgence in all its forms; just as my partner is when I’m with her, and just as B would be, if she was able to get away with me. And this is how it works: you're out together, you see something which would look good on her, so maybe you treat her. She’s happy. Then, when you're together that evening, she wears it for you. You admire her in it and you’re both happy. You get back to the hotel, and take it off her. Simple. You can be given the odd pair of earrings to show someone cares; but I’m not sure you can always have the the full kit without the man getting to enjoy you in it; you can’t have things simply because you live with some unimaginative, tight-fisted, boorish, indolent fart who forgets your birthday and buys you an egg whisk for Christmas! It’s not really on, I feel.
Nevertheless, the festive season was fast approaching and I love her to distraction, so what could I do? A little spoiling was in order. At the end of the day, I had to get her nice presents – ones which answered her hints about warm yet cute nightclothes, perhaps – because if I didn’t, I knew her lazy husband wouldn’t and then she’d have made all the effort at Christmas for everyone else and no one would have been thinking of her pleasure, of what she needed. And yet…….. And yet why was I making a woman look cute and desirable for my ‘rival’, and at bedtime, too, for Christsakes – when he couldn’t himself be arsed to get her anything much (and when I wouldn’t even see her in them)? Readers will surely appreciate my predicament.
Then I hit on a solution: a pyjama party! I’d give the presents to her at hotel meetings and break them in, so to speak, before sending her home in them! Perfect. I had to give her one warm, cuddly pair of pyjamas to open at Christmas without an opportunity to fuck her in them: so I made the requirement that she masturbate wearing them instead, and let me have the details by email. The other gifts would wait til we met up, and I could get to enjoy them on her, and her in them…...
This arrangement worked very well, I thought.
Sure enough, her family gave her nothing, or crap:
The pyjamas were my best present - though I must admit there wasn't much competition. I got one box of chocolates from Lidl and another from the Co-op. One sister said presents had to conform to LOAF precepts – locally sourced, organic, animal-friendly. Worthy and appropriate as principles for day to day living, perhaps - but for presents? – I’d like to make a plea for FUL principles: frivolous, unnecessary, and luxurious!
And over the hols, I duly got my report:
I love the pyjamas. I might have to get some more so I don’t have to keep washing these ones.
I did an experiment last night….. I had a bath and put on my pyjamas. I was tired, but horny too (after all, I had prepared to see you – see above) AND I had to do my sit-ups. I thought one way to get everything done and get to sleep quickly would be to masturbate while I did sit-ups. More successful than you would think – the sit-ups tense your muscles, leaving your hand to work away. I kept my mind on counting while pleasuring myself with my fingers – which I thought would keep me from coming too soon. But I had to stop and keep my – by now very sticky – fingers still well before I got to 100 and – of course – I then made myself wait while I did the extra 25. After that a shuddering climax was merely a wet finger away – though I would probably have come in anticipation very soon regardless.
So far, so good. Then there was a big fluffy dressing gown I’d got her. She was going to look just so sweet and cute in this, that male territoriality was obviously going to demand something uncuddly, like cock-sucking. It was pinky-white, so I got a very pretty, hot, little combi to go under it, in black lace with pink ribbons. What a treat! The knickers looked so good, she admitted wearing them the next day, too, beneath her work clothes (which doubtless reprised the fun in her idle moments).
I opened the gown and slipped my hand under them. God, how I love my little pussy! And after I’d spent an enjoyable time getting her into third gear, she did this thing which always slays me, whether she uses her own finger or mine: she lithely wriggles her hips, her arse, her entire lower body, in a rhythmic undulation; so that your finger is travelling up her slit, touching base with her clitoris, then sliding down her lips, to start travelling up towards her clitoris again. Bliss. She tried to make me stop before she came, because she likes it to keep building, but I carried on, responding to her body, not her words, until I’d got her bleating.
We don’t do ‘turns’; but she did then focus her attention on my cock: as much for her own further stimulation, as my satisfaction, I’m sure. Soon I’m kneeling either side of her waist - so that she’s in a good position to wank and suck me - and she’s making the gurgling, moaning noises typical of the first stages of demonic possession, one hand wrapped around it and the other curled into her slit.
Sure enough, her family gave her nothing, or crap:
The pyjamas were my best present - though I must admit there wasn't much competition. I got one box of chocolates from Lidl and another from the Co-op. One sister said presents had to conform to LOAF precepts – locally sourced, organic, animal-friendly. Worthy and appropriate as principles for day to day living, perhaps - but for presents? – I’d like to make a plea for FUL principles: frivolous, unnecessary, and luxurious!
And over the hols, I duly got my report:
I love the pyjamas. I might have to get some more so I don’t have to keep washing these ones.
I did an experiment last night….. I had a bath and put on my pyjamas. I was tired, but horny too (after all, I had prepared to see you – see above) AND I had to do my sit-ups. I thought one way to get everything done and get to sleep quickly would be to masturbate while I did sit-ups. More successful than you would think – the sit-ups tense your muscles, leaving your hand to work away. I kept my mind on counting while pleasuring myself with my fingers – which I thought would keep me from coming too soon. But I had to stop and keep my – by now very sticky – fingers still well before I got to 100 and – of course – I then made myself wait while I did the extra 25. After that a shuddering climax was merely a wet finger away – though I would probably have come in anticipation very soon regardless.
So far, so good. Then there was a big fluffy dressing gown I’d got her. She was going to look just so sweet and cute in this, that male territoriality was obviously going to demand something uncuddly, like cock-sucking. It was pinky-white, so I got a very pretty, hot, little combi to go under it, in black lace with pink ribbons. What a treat! The knickers looked so good, she admitted wearing them the next day, too, beneath her work clothes (which doubtless reprised the fun in her idle moments).
I opened the gown and slipped my hand under them. God, how I love my little pussy! And after I’d spent an enjoyable time getting her into third gear, she did this thing which always slays me, whether she uses her own finger or mine: she lithely wriggles her hips, her arse, her entire lower body, in a rhythmic undulation; so that your finger is travelling up her slit, touching base with her clitoris, then sliding down her lips, to start travelling up towards her clitoris again. Bliss. She tried to make me stop before she came, because she likes it to keep building, but I carried on, responding to her body, not her words, until I’d got her bleating.
We don’t do ‘turns’; but she did then focus her attention on my cock: as much for her own further stimulation, as my satisfaction, I’m sure. Soon I’m kneeling either side of her waist - so that she’s in a good position to wank and suck me - and she’s making the gurgling, moaning noises typical of the first stages of demonic possession, one hand wrapped around it and the other curled into her slit.
How did she get to be the best cock wanker I’ve ever come across? Dunno: I can only assume she trained hard as a teenager and has refined the technique since. What makes it so hot, though, isn’t technique; it’s the obvious way it turns her on. She isn’t doing me a favour: if I refused, she’d beg me to let her wank it (a pleasing thought I’ll have to put off til another time). And once she’s started, she doesn’t mess about: she lubes it up generously and tackles it with both hands, like an expert potter. Whereas your cock shrinks from someone unconfident, tentative, or clumsy, as much irritated as stimulated; it becomes even more engorged and rigid in her firm, excited, admiring caress: jutting rudely into the air above her abdomen and breasts, like a living flagpole on some proud national day, eager as it is for more of the same treatment.
Then she’s shuffling down, to lick and suck my balls, running her tongue up and down the shaft, while still wanking the head of it. Oh happy day! Her hot mouth feels absolutely unbelievable as she tongues the base of my cock, licks my perineum, takes one of my balls into her suck, and then licks her way back up the shaft again. I’m so lost in it, I can’t even find the words to encourage or guide her, beg her or thank her: I’m just making inarticulate noises. I can’t bear her to stop. Luckily, she has no intention of stopping - but she’s going to go slow.
And it’s very hard to find the words for how it feels to approach orgasm, very very slowly, in your lover’s mouth. It’s an exquisite torture. You can’t thrust, you just have to wait. One thing’s for sure: it feels a fuck of a lot better than it looks in porn! To my mind, they haven’t even got the right technique: wanking away roughly; bullying their cocks into a performance for which they aren’t even ready. When you’re fucking urgently, then your crisis may be something you’re striving towards, together. But when someone’s playing with you, ejaculation shouldn’t be something you aim and struggle for – after all, most of us, men and women, can come any time we like, in a few minutes flat, under the right circumstances (or even the wrong ones). No, if she (or he) is any good, it should be a release you find yourself pleading to be given, when you can take no more stimulation.
You have to grant the other person the power to withhold, or to give, in order for you to receive.
Sometimes, it is good to be sucked off deeply, vigorously and enthusiastically, by someone determined and eager to make you spurt. What am I talking about? – it’s fantastic! But it can also be fabulous to go slow. So although she starts out tonguing and sucking my cock with her usual alacrity, I find the trick is to get her to wank it - up, up, up…..Woah! Steady…… and up a little bit more – up to a plateau where you can hardly bear it. Now the little minx can return to licking and sucking it again – very slowly and lasciviously, this time, kittenishly and luxuriously - while you squirm and quiver and plead with her to get it right into her gob and make you come. Then she knows that any time she wants, she can open up, encircle your cock with her mouth, and go at it steadily til you holler, sending hot jissom down her throat; but she can also make you wait…..
“Oh God, I love that moment,” she said to me once, (once, when her mouth wasn’t full); “it’s like a surge in the current - when it clicks and you're climbing together; when you just suddenly know it’s going to happen for you both, soon……..”
But she doesn’t do it; she doesn’t open up and go at it: instead, she just carries on, running the flat of her tongue slowly and firmly up the underside of the shaft, from my balls, all the way to the swollen head of the thing; then starting over at the base. Of course you want to give it up: you want to give in and wank it over her face, or you want her to get to grips with it properly, or deep throat it; but you have to resist all these impulses. Instead, one of you - and it doesn't matter who, really - one of you needs to just tease and chivvy and caress your cock towards its inevitable moments of spurting glory, with a rapid, delicate, encircling touch - one as quick and light as the vibration which a woman might want in order to be teased to climax – while she licks and sucks and coaxes the cum from you with her mouth…..
Sometimes, it is good to be sucked off deeply, vigorously and enthusiastically, by someone determined and eager to make you spurt. What am I talking about? – it’s fantastic! But it can also be fabulous to go slow. So although she starts out tonguing and sucking my cock with her usual alacrity, I find the trick is to get her to wank it - up, up, up…..Woah! Steady…… and up a little bit more – up to a plateau where you can hardly bear it. Now the little minx can return to licking and sucking it again – very slowly and lasciviously, this time, kittenishly and luxuriously - while you squirm and quiver and plead with her to get it right into her gob and make you come. Then she knows that any time she wants, she can open up, encircle your cock with her mouth, and go at it steadily til you holler, sending hot jissom down her throat; but she can also make you wait…..
“Oh God, I love that moment,” she said to me once, (once, when her mouth wasn’t full); “it’s like a surge in the current - when it clicks and you're climbing together; when you just suddenly know it’s going to happen for you both, soon……..”
But she doesn’t do it; she doesn’t open up and go at it: instead, she just carries on, running the flat of her tongue slowly and firmly up the underside of the shaft, from my balls, all the way to the swollen head of the thing; then starting over at the base. Of course you want to give it up: you want to give in and wank it over her face, or you want her to get to grips with it properly, or deep throat it; but you have to resist all these impulses. Instead, one of you - and it doesn't matter who, really - one of you needs to just tease and chivvy and caress your cock towards its inevitable moments of spurting glory, with a rapid, delicate, encircling touch - one as quick and light as the vibration which a woman might want in order to be teased to climax – while she licks and sucks and coaxes the cum from you with her mouth…..
And that’s what she does to me, a hand completing its mission between her legs as my cock jerks a flood of warm spunk over her eager tongue.
So that’s the fluffy dressing gown and the pretty bra and knickers set satisfactorily gifted. I’ve still got another pair of sexier, satiny pyjamas to give her, though. And I haven’t yet decided what I’m going to do to put my mark on them, before she can take them home: should I pull the trousers down to her ankles and slowly lick her out? Tempting. Or pull them down just far enough from behind, and fuck her up her arse? You’ll have to watch this space. Maybe it’ll be both - and more – whatever I feel it'll take to make sure her sleepwear will always have the right kind of associations, whenever she wears them later – me, and the ruder forms of pleasure………………...
So that’s the fluffy dressing gown and the pretty bra and knickers set satisfactorily gifted. I’ve still got another pair of sexier, satiny pyjamas to give her, though. And I haven’t yet decided what I’m going to do to put my mark on them, before she can take them home: should I pull the trousers down to her ankles and slowly lick her out? Tempting. Or pull them down just far enough from behind, and fuck her up her arse? You’ll have to watch this space. Maybe it’ll be both - and more – whatever I feel it'll take to make sure her sleepwear will always have the right kind of associations, whenever she wears them later – me, and the ruder forms of pleasure………………...
