An ocean of her

Oh, what a night. And forgive me if this one’s a little all over the place, because the evening was, too.

So it starts out with me telling Belle that the “other woman” contacted me via IM. I have agreed to always tell Belle when this happens since, as should be pretty obvious, my cheating on her has put certain trust issues between us. O.W. IMed me on Tuesday and I forgot to tell Belle until last night. Sometimes I forget, but I always dread it because it’s an opportunity to dredge up the silt from the floor of our relationship.

I can hear you saying to yourself, why the fuck do you have any contact with O.W.? Just cut her off. The issue is, I met her through my involvement with a wildlife non-profit which we are both still associated with. I have chosen not to do anything that could potentially damage her standing within this group (or, of course, mine). It’s made up of a lot of fairly conservative folks and an extramarital affair would be very serious to most of them. Our history is not known to more than just a few of the group and there are occasions when, due to the group’s activities, we need to communicate.

Anyway, Belle knows I’m with her for good and we’ve figured out all the things that led to the affair and have successfully addressed them. I am now more fully committed and closer to her than I have ever been, as evidenced by my ability to draw out my kinky side with her. She knows this. But of course, it’s difficult for Belle to deal with these instances where O.W. appears uninvited in our lives. Last night was no different. She cried, I cried, things I did that make me cringe and feel incredible guilt are dragged back out from under the bed. It was an all-around no-fun time.

However, it didn’t end that way. Prior to all the drama, it had been a great night. I made dinner, did all the cleaning, and Belle relaxed and sipped wine. I rubbed her neck, she read the blog, we talked a little about it. It was all heading in a good direction. I desperately wanted her to be in a mood that would allow me to go down on her. I’m at about two weeks denied at this point and I find, as I’ve written before, that my reptilian brain starts plotting ways to consume her. Last night, I wanted desperately to bury my face in her pussy. No, I mean REALLY. I wanted to cover myself with her scent.

I totally saw from a mile off that we were definitely not heading in that direction. In the past, I would have gotten mad or overly frustrated by this, but not now. I still tentatively made the offer of orgasm, but she rebuffed as expected. I was over the top horny, but accepted it as part and parcel of the position I want to hold in our sexual relationship.

I was able, though, to talk to her about us, rather than O.W. and us. I wanted to go over the whole “is she enjoying/getting something out of our sex” thing. She says she’s not doing anything she doesn’t like and likes some things better than others, but to ask what she needs more of or differently is a bit premature. I’m totally cool with that and don’t want to rush her in anyway. I built-up my courage and asked her if she enjoyed the other night with the ice. Did she enjoy, in any way, hurting me? In fact, she said she did get some cruel pleasure from ripping the clothespins off my nipples. Seriously! I was over the moon happy to hear that. It was wonderfully cruel and hurt like fuck and she liked doing it! It’s like I won the lottery. After she said that, I started craving more pain. It was almost like craving sex. I wanted to get slapped or whipped across my ass with a belt or something. I offered a couple of times that if she wanted to take her frustration over O.W. out of my hide, she was more than welcome to it. No dice (and probably not a good precedent, anyway).

So on that high note, we turned off the light. I stripped (as she instructed) and spooned into her. I asked if she had thought about when I was going to come next. She paused for a while, as if unsure she should tell me, but eventually said I was going to come on Saturday. The cock jumped. I asked her if she knew when I was going to be locked up again. She paused again. Yes, immediately after coming. The cock did more than jump. I pressed my hardness into her.

Wanting her to understand better my desire (and, perhaps, to try to make her feel better following the emotional thrill-ride of the previous hour), I told her that I was profoundly horny and deeply frustrated, but instead of some free-floating need to fuck, it was entirely focused on her like a magnifying glass over an ant hill. I wasn’t just horny. Porn, for example, would not do it for me. It had to be her, specifically. That’s what I craved. She turned over and faced me in the dark. Hmm, I thought. That was unexpected. I continued to tell her that I thought she was beautiful, fucking hot, and was really turning me on. I let my hand wander over her body, down her pajama bottoms, over her ass…and she said nothing. I continued, thinking it was surely a trap – I would probably end with nothing and I braced myself to accept it properly and without resentment. I kept talking. I said that thoughts of her punctuated my day, that I couldn’t get her out of my mind, how badly I wanted to bite every part of her, how desperately I wanted to take her in my arms and pleasure her in every way.

At this point, I was squirming, crushing my hard cock into the bed, and pawing her like a bear cub. My desire was running high and on display. She wasn’t saying no, but she wasn’t saying yes either. I asked her, can I pleasure you? Yes, I could.

I dove under the covers and pressed my face into her midriff. I lifted her top and suckled her breast while my hand went between her legs and felt her heat. My male animal lust started to rise and I had to fight to keep myself gentle and tender. I wanted to eat her alive. Her pussy was too tempting and I found my face pressed against the fabric of her crotch, inhaling deeply. I actually bit her mound before getting back under control, but it wasn’t very hard and I don’t think she felt it. I pulled down her bottoms and planted my face over her hot, wet snatch.

Oh. My. God.

I was on all fours, parallel to her body, head down in an ocean of her. Her smell, her juices, her soft and tender flesh. I rubbed my face all around getting soaked and feeling her juices run up my inverted nose. My tongue dove deeply into her then flitted over her clit like a hummingbird, back and forth, over and across, again and again. The entire world ceased to exist and all there ever was or would be was HER. I lost myself in it all. It seemed to go on and on, but was over all too quickly. Suddenly, her thighs closed in on my head. She was pressing her pussy against my mouth and clamping onto me. I couldn’t hear anything, but felt her hips buck in rythm with the pulsing of her orgasm on my tongue.

Afterward, I came up for air and she laid there, as if lifeless. My cock was raging, straining but I was feeling her reflected afterglow and all was good.

So now I know I’m coming on Saturday. For a brief moment, I was deflated it was so soon, but that didn’t last long. Now, right now, I want to come badly. I want to come in her, on her – I don’t care. I just want it so bad.

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