The sex, o god, the sex

The best part of working out and getting fit and all that isn’t necessarily what it’s doing to my body. I mean, yeah, I like that, but the best part is what it’s doing to my relationship. Belle, as I’ve mentioned, has been going to see my trainer for the past six or so months, too, and the change in her has been remarkable.

It’s not just physical, though it is that. I often reach over to her in bed at night and everywhere I put my hands feels different (in much the same way I feel like a different person almost everywhere). And it’s driving me kinda nuts with desire. Luckily, these same changes seem to be simultaneously improving her outlook on our physical relationship. We had some of the best sex we’ve had in a long time last weekend (I’ll get to that in a minute since that’s why most of you pervs are here in the first place) and I can’t necessarily peg all of it on mutually inclusive positive body images (in that, she’s more comfortable with herself as I am and we’re both a lot more into each other’s new selves if for no other reason than the novelty of having hotter new spouses), but I think that’s a lot of it.

More than anything else, I’m very proud of all the work she’s putting into this, whatever the motivation and whatever it means in the bedroom. She’s healthier, happier, and helping to set a fantastic example for our kids.

So yeah, the sex. Oh, man.

For some reason, it made me think of the first night Belle and I had sex in which I didn’t come. I remember very well how amped up I was and how it felt to have all those hormones pumping around and a wet, hard dick and the exact opposite of that usual drowsy post-orgasm feeling. Belle, who was deep in the “well, if this is how you want to do it” phase, laid next to me and stroked my inner arm and tried to help me down off my high. Didn’t work, as I recall, but it was really nice of her to do that.

Saturday night, she let me out of the Looker 02 for easy access and, like last time, the penis immediately started to get hard. It did that “snake in a can” thing where, as the device came off, more penis came out than seemed possible to fit in the little cage. I started to kiss her and, since she responded to that, started to feel her up. I didn’t really think it was leading anywhere serious, but next thing I knew, she was pulling her top off and I was sucking on a nipple.

Of course, none of this was planned and there were no discussions beforehand so I wasn’t really sure, now that there was actual sex happening, how she wanted to come. I was doing a fine job fingering her and she really seemed to be liking it so I just kept going figuring she’d tell me what she wanted sooner or later. At about that point, she started to stoke the penis. Not like seriously jacking it, but since I hadn’t come in a month and was pretty liquored up on the hormones anyway and had my hand in her fucking hot wet snatch, it didn’t need to be serious jacking to get me lathered up.

“I think I might need to fuck you,” she said. I love it when she says that. I love it when she needs to fuck me. But she didn’t just yet. “Roll on your back.”

“Uh, OK,” I said.

Then she went down on me. Seriously, go back real quick and read this whole blog and I bet you won’t find more instances of her blowing me than will fit on one hand. But there she was and doing a bang-up job. Thing is, I’m not sure I’ve ever come from a blow job. Maybe once a long time ago. It feels really nice, but it’s not a way to get me off (like I get off anymore). But this time, maybe because of the stroking and maybe because of all the aforementioned preconditions and maybe just because her mouth felt really fine bobbing up and down on me, I started to think, “Holy shit, I’m actually getting close here.” Like, not about to come close, but more like hey, I’m in the neighborhood, mind if I drop by kind of close. Luckily, she stopped.

“I want you to go down on me.” Don’t have to ask for that twice. Her pussy was glorious. I inhaled her pheromones and anointed myself with her juices and licked and lapped and went to fucking town.

“I still might need to fuck you,” she told me. This concerned me because I knew the hard penis I was laying on really wasn’t up to the task. I was cruising very close to the edge and feeling her ride me with her bucking hips, tits in my face, would likely wipe me out pretty quickly. But it never happened. Turns out, she came hard, my head clamped between her thighs and my hair grasped in her fist. I didn’t want to leave, though. I rubbed my face in her pussy before moving north.

Then, I got to fuck her. A lot. It was fantastic. I won’t tell you all about it because there’s not a lot to tell (and I already have so many times already), but she felt So. Fucking. Good.

So anyway, I was turned the fuck on, as you might imagine. She gave me a blow job, I ate her out, I got to fuck her for like 20 minutes, all on a Saturday night when things like this hardly ever happen. Unlike that very first night, though, this time she hardly gave me a notice. No arm stroking. No TLC. She just rolled over and let me stew. Definitely now in a “so this is how I want to do this” phase. So awesome. I love her so much.

But it wasn’t over. The next morning, more of the same. This time, though, she finally got her fuck. It was one of those times when I was a thousand miles away from coming and then suddenly found myself on the cusp. I stopped and withdrew and she didn’t do what she normally does which is just keep fucking me and not really care about my orgasm in search of her own. This time, she told me it was OK and rolled off. We finished her off with Pink. After she was done glowing, I apologized for my shortcomings. Even though I didn’t really think I had earned it, she let me fuck her again. I thought about how she stopped when I got close and didn’t force me to do what I really didn’t want to do and the usual surge of emotion and gratitude that normally rises up in me while inside her and not allowed to come doubled then doubled again.

God, I was near tears, I felt such love. Not love. Devotion. I wasn’t going to come because she wasn’t allowing it, not even by accident. I don’t know. I can’t really describe it, but I felt like she really and truly owned and cared for my denied state as much as I did. And it was like my heart was trying to swallow us both up. I fucked her as deeply and gently as I could, frustrated yet again that I can’t go any deeper than the average little penis allows. I wanted to fill her up on the inside and totally envelope her on the outside.

She let me stay out until after we went to the gym that morning, but then I had to go back in. I don’t think I was out more than twelve hours. And now she’s going away Sunday for a few days on business and I’m totally crushed. I want her. I need her. I love her. My Belle Fille.

7 thoughts on “The sex, o god, the sex

  1. Absolutely incredible! Its kinda scary that, as a gay man reading this, my cock wanted desperately to get hard in its cage. Trippy.

    1. It’s funny to me how being denied changes what I find a turn-on. It’s kinda like water being drained out of a lake. As it gets shallower, things are revealed that normally are submerged.

  2. “I felt like she really and truly owned and cared for my denied state as much as I did.”

    You’re really lucky to have that. The Princess and I are…inconsistant on that front. But I’ve been more willing recently to ask her about it, and give her options for when she’s not feeling able to provide that investment. Over all, I need to feel that coming from her, but I also get that it’s something that can take some work and adjustment on her side. It’s really awesome how in tune you two are in that moment.

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