I think this is neat, though I assume you’ll find it gross. I figured out yesterday that, if I remove my PA jewelry and pinch the head of the dick closed, I can pee just fine through my piercing. What do you think, future HNT material?
I only mentioned that because it made me think of this post’s title and I wanted to use it in the worst way.
More talking last night. We are doing so much talking lately. Mind you, I don’t have a problem with talking. Shit, I can write a 2,000 word blog post like nobody’s business, so talking certainly isn’t a problem. I over analyze and bellybutton gaze with the best of them.
Turns out Belle is still processing anger and hurt from six months ago when I was her lousy cheating husband and not her fuzzy little bunny. I respect that and want to do what I can to help her, but I simply cannot comprehend where she’s coming from. Where we are now is so much better than where we were prior to The Troubles. Personally, I have never felt more love for Belle or been happier in my marriage. In addition, I’m more sexually fulfilled now than at any time in my life. Not exactly satisfied since, you know, that kinda of goes against the paradigm and all, but my sexual relationship with Belle is more honest and open (even with myself) than any I’ve ever had (and, in my younger years, I had plenty). I am so very happy.
But Belle still has sadness. Moments of great sadness. And I can’t understand it. I can’t relate to the time travel required to revisit the hurtful, painful times in the past. Right now is wonderful for both of us (she says), so why dig up when things sucked? We know why the affair happened and what we needed to do to fix it. It’s been fixed. We’re not the same couple we were nine months ago.
I used an oyster analogy. Oysters get sand in them and it pisses them off so they do what they do and eventually what they get is a pearl. It’s a lovely, wonderful thing (at least to us humans) that all started with an annoying, painful thing. And it’s still in there, beneath all the layers. It never goes away. I get that. But it’s built upon and eventually becomes the foundation of something so much better. That’s our relationship right now. At least, that’s how I see it.
I’m not dismissive of Belle’s feelings. I try to talk her through them and do what I can to be supportive. Any time she needs to cry or talk, I’ll of course be there doing my best to understand.
Somehow, we ended the conversation with her still wanting the back rub she asked for before we went to bed. I was tired, and figured she was, too, but I had the oil and the towels and the hands, so rub away I did. I was really horny at that point. The slick oil on her naked back, the erection held securely by its chrome cock ring pressing against her ass and back…it was heaven. Again I found my hands moving against her skin and the feeling that I was masturbating in my mind. Somehow, the similarity of the motion combines with my heightened arousal and I feel like I’m jacking off. She really has become the focus of my sex. When I touch her, when I pleasure her, when I get her off, I’m touching, pleasuring and getting myself off.
When the massage was over, she again surprised me by asking for Pink, the little vibe. It was still in my drawer from the last time she used it, so I was able to get it pretty quickly. I never actually turned it on, though, because after a few moments of feeling my fingers, she announced she wanted to get off on her cock.
“I want to feel my cock in me. I want to watch you suck my tits while I ride my cock. Can you handle it, Thumper?”
“I think so,” I stammered.
“There is no think. Do or do not,” she replied, channeling Yoda.
“I can do it, Belle Fille,” I said with more confidence than I felt. To hedge my bet, I let my fingers become more insistent hoping she’s come that way and I’d avoid the risk of an unauthorized orgasm.
No dice. She really enjoyed the finger action, but nonetheless rolled me on my back for her main event. As she slid down on top of me, I tried to think about anything – anything – other than what was happening. After a little bit, I felt the familiar tingle and placed my hands on her ass to slow her down. She stopped for a moment and the urge passed, but then she started back up again.
And almost immediately, the tingle started back up again. I tried everything I had read about postponing orgasm. I bore down and applied internal pressure to the general area and that helped a little. Doing so caused my abdominal muscles to tighten, which she felt.
“What are you doing, Thumper?”
“Trying not to come.”
“How’s it going?”
“Oh…OK…I guess.”
“Good, because I’m going to fuck my cock for a good long time…”
Mother.
I knew I was doomed. The tickle grew and started to coalesce. Orgasm was imminent. I placed my hands back on her ass and pressed down, trying to make her stop. She did, for a second, but then started gyrating over the fully engulfed member.
“Oh god! Oh no! I’m going to come!” I was pleading for her to stop, but she wouldn’t. I felt the wave crash over me and a half dozen thick spurts of ejaculate surged out of me. I tried to fight it, to a point, but she was still gyrating. I was helpless. It was as if she pulled the orgasm from me, totally against my will.
A few moments later, she rolled off. “Give me Pink,” she said. I ripped through the bedsheets and under pillows trying to find the damn thing. My head was spinning with the sudden release and the guilt and the feeling of disappointment. Finally, I found the vibe and made a move with it toward her pussy.
But she grabbed it out of my hand. She pressed the button and I heard the thrumming little motor sink into her semen-lubed pussy. I left my hands off her until the very end and then it was only to rub the nipple closest to me. She didn’t push my hand away and finally came in a cascade of “oh, fuck”s.
She said afterward that she didn’t care if I came. It wasn’t her concern. She was getting her pleasure and that’s all that mattered. She didn’t feel like stopping so she didn’t. Very simple. I, of course, think there needs to be ramifications. I have no idea what, but I really need to feel the consequences of coming when I’m not allowed or, ultimately, it won’t mean anything. Then again, she knew what she was doing. Knew I was helpless to stop it. I don’t know. I’m confused.
In the mean time, I’m still pretty horny. And feeling guilty. I wish I had last night to do over…
I’m not like Belle. I don’t really care much about fidelity. But I think what might be easy for you not to feel is that your two sides of The Troubles were not the same. Your side was (I’m guessing) a hot sexy time followed by a lot of bad conversations and struggles leading to things being better. You had choices to make, and even your bad (?) choices led to pleasure. And you knew what was going on.
For Belle, something was done that affected her but that she didn’t have any choices about. She got hurt. Even if it led to a better place, it was still a painful thing that happened out of the blue.
I’m making a lot of assumptions and guesses here, of course.
If you had broken Belle’s arm, then no matter how accidental it was, or how much she forgave you, or how many millions of dollars you were going to win in the lawsuit over the defective product that caused the accident, she’d still have pain from the breaking of the arm itself. And she might actually still feel distrustful or fearful of you (irrationally). And that would be a total accident, which your cheating wasn’t.
Anyway, moving on…
The idea of being driven inexorably to come and then punished for it is a major fantasy for me. Not sure how it would work in real life. On a more practical level, I find that doing matrix multiplication in my head is a good orgasm-preventative. Or, my first boyfriend used to think about riding a bicycle through a hot, sandy desert.
Of course, you’re right. Totally. But at what point do we move on? Will these little landmines of pain forever be buried across the field? Thing is, I’ve never been in this position before so I honestly don’t know the statute of limitations on these things.
Regarding the “sexy time” I had, I do have *memories* of what happened, but it’s hard to say I recall them with any kind of specificity or pleasure. There’s a yawning chasm of pain and guilt between that time and now that pretty well flattens it out from a sensual point of view.
She absolutely forced me to come, but there’s no punishment forthcoming (as far as I know). Between the two of us, this transgression weighs much more heavily on me than her. I’d like to have a sense that she gives a rat’s ass one way or the other, though I have no idea what kind of punishment she’d inflict.
And dude, the only way I’d be able to use matrix multiplication to avoid orgasm would be 1) if I knew what the hell it was, and 2) could actually *do* multiplication in my head.
I don’t use numbers, just a regular system of variables. But yes, it only works if you know how. You could try times tables for a similar effect.
About the statute of limitations…I don’t know. And here I’ll speculate rampantly in my ignorance:
If Belle gets upset on purpose to punish you, that’s probably not cool – at some point she needs to either forgive you and move on, or end the relationship. But I don’t think that’s what’s happening.
It might be that thinking about it / dwelling on it is something she could avoid and be better off by avoiding. There are things that are like that for me – stuff I can cry about if I think about it, but can live perfectly happily while ignoring.
But if this is just natural, honest, not-pointless-obsessing fallout, then I don’t really think there is a statute of limitations, and you should continue to be as supportive as you can be.
I think my comments sound a bit judgmental towards you and/or Belle (but mostly you), but I actually don’t feel particularly judging towards any of it. It’s just hard to write with the desired tone.
Poor Thumper is now pouting b/c I actually just announced his ramifications. Suddenly the “I really need to feel the consequences…..” is turning into a pleading pity-fest. His 3G i-phone and the thought of the imminent return of Steve Jobs can only hold back the puddle of wallowing for so long. Be careful what you wish for bunny-man 🙂
I rather thought writing “I really need to feel the consequences…..” was just asking for it… 😉
Yay Belle!
You guys aren’t helping.
And what any of this has to do with my new iPhone is beyond me…
Who said we had to help? 😉
>:-p
Squick, squick, squick~~~
Perhaps because right now it’s good for you because your life wasn’t turned upside down. Belle’s was. Sure, you know this, but you’re focusing on the enjoyable aspects that you have now. Bell may need a chance to grieve or mourn, or somehow come to terms not with the changes, but with the deception. IOW, her perception of you changed. It’s like losing a loved one, ergo, the grieving.
Consider, too, that while things might be working well for her now, she had a life that was comfortable and known, even if it wasn’t working well. The suddenness with which it was changed can be traumatic. People deal with these things differently.
Excellent, Smithers. Someone finally said something about that…
I understand that, but there’s been nine months of mourning and grieving that I *thought* we were over. I don’t mean to demean her feelings, but from my perspective, she’s intentionality driving herself back to a rough patch of road. I don’t see the purpose of re-exposing pain that, from my perspective, had already been processed and move on from.
I think that’s the perfect summary.