Just a quick note to say Happy Thanksgiving to everybody reading this. Jack and I have much to be thankful for, including health, happiness, and a sex life that is never boring. But above all, we are thankful to have friends like you, and we hope your holiday was wonderful. Thanks for reading!
-Jill
We got in at eleven o’clock last night after spending the evening at a party thrown by some friends of ours. We were surrounded by fun people, and I drank a few glasses of wine. Most people who know us pretty well are aware that having a couple glasses of wine makes me silly. Having a few glasses makes me horny.
The ride home was long, and more than once Jack and I joked about finding an out-of-the-way place to pull over and have sex in the car. We’ve done it before, of course, although usually closer to home. It’s been quite awhile since we’ve done that, and we both love the possibility of discovery. We’re freaks, we know, it’s nothing new.
As we pulled into our driveway, we were both glad we hadn’t actually stopped anywhere. The prospect of having rushed sex while half-dressed in the cramped backseat of a car somehow didn’t seem quite as erotic as being able to spend an hour or more comfortably lying naked on warm flannel sheets and a soft mattress.
We walked into the house, and I set my purse down on the floor. When Jack shut the front door, I took him by surprise, pushing him up against it. I rubbed him forcefully through his jeans, aroused to see just how ready he was. I could feel myself growing hotter and hotter until I finally unhitched his jeans, sliding them and his shorts to the floor.
Freed from his pants, Jack sprang to life. As I dropped slowly to my knees I gathered up my skirt around my waist, revealing a sexy pair of panties. I felt the cold tile of the entryway floor stinging at my legs as I settled down to take him into my mouth. I braced myself against the floor with one hand and arched my back a little, sticking my ass out, and imagined the sight a nonexistent audience might be enjoying as my head bobbed up and down on Jack’s cock.
My lips and tongue left little wet trails along him, trails that my hand quickly followed. His pleasure was evident by his lustful moans, and I continued doing exactly what I was doing. In fact, I did it faster, more passionately, knowing that eventually my efforts would certainly lead to his orgasm. Actually, I was counting on it.
I felt him throb in my hand and took my mouth off of him. “I want your come,” I said in a breathy whisper. I wasn’t trying to sound sexy, so if I did it was effortless. Jack loves it when I talk dirty, and I’m sure that hearing my words so close to the height of his sexual plateau didn’t hurt. I worked my mouth up and down the underside of his cock, paying special attention to his frenulum, and soon I could tell he was right on the verge.
I felt his hand touch my shoulder reassuringly and slid my mouth all the way down his shaft, feeling him come but sadly tasting nothing. When his climax subsided I continued to play him like a flute, especially the oh-so-sensitive frenulum. His continued moans excited me, and made me wish he would come again. He stayed nice and hard, and once I had cleaned him off we went into the bedroom, shedding clothing along the way.
It was my turn. Jack set me down on the bed and began kissing me all over, starting with my forehead. He kissed his way down to my chin, along my neck and over my shoulders, before grazing on my breasts for a very long time. As though he could sense when I couldn’t stand it anymore, he continued down my body, kissing each thigh, making his way to each foot and then back up again.
I got lost in the moment, in the feeling of what Jack was doing to me, and at first I didn’t even realize that he was going down on me. But before I knew it he was eating me like a ripe, juicy apple, and delicately massaging my thighs. As I felt the first stirrings of release, he was inside me, filling me completely, and that’s all it took.
We held each other for a long while, our bodies warm under the covers before he got up and turned out the lights. I thought briefly about how exciting it was to be the last one: Usually I come first. I like that, because then I can concentrate totally on my husband’s pleasure, and it’s wonderful not to have to get off “for him”, if that makes any sense. But once he came, knowing it was my turn, and that I would be utterly satisfied when I fell asleep, was amazing.
-Jill
I came across this article today, and found it thought-provoking.
Fat Women More Likely to Have Had Sex
November 3, 2008
Fat women are more likely to have had sexual intercourse than thin ones, research has found.
In a study of 7,000 women 92 per cent of those who were overweight had slept with a man.
The figure was only 87 per cent among those of a “normal” size.
The research, carried out by the University of Hawaii School of Medicine, contradicts previous results which suggested that larger women had a lower libido, while thinner ones were more likely to be sexually active.
It was based on the sexual histories of American women aged 15 to 44. A Body Mass Index (BMI) of 25 was chosen as the cut-off point between being normal and overweight.
Factors such as age, race, location, number of partners and frequency of sex were all taken into account.
However, size was the only criterion that affected the likelihood of a woman having slept with a man.
Dr Bliss Kaneshiro, who led the research, published in the journal Obstetrics & Gynaecology, said: “These results were unexpected and we don’t really know why this is the case.
“Our analysis demonstrated that overweight women do not differ significantly in some of the measures of sexual behaviour compared to women of normal weight.
“This study indicates that all women deserve diligence in counselling on unintended pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases, regardless of their weight.”
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/3371172/Fat-women-more-likely-to-have-had-sex.html
Here’s another take on the same research:
Weight Does Not Affect Sexual Activity
By Rick Nauert, Ph.D.
Senior News Editor
Reviewed by John M. Grohol, Psy.D. on October 31, 2008New research suggests a woman’s weight does not seem to affect sexual behavior. In fact, overweight women are more likely to report having sex with men than women considered to be of “normal weight.”
The study, published in the September issue of Obstetrics & Gynecology, is based on data from the 2002 National Survey of Family Growth that looked at sexual behavior of more than 7,000 women.
Some studies have suggested that obese and overweight women have a higher risk of unintended pregnancy than do normal weight women, according to Dr. Bliss Kaneshiro, an assistant professor at the University Of Hawaii School Of Medicine.
Although multiple factors, including contraceptive use and its efficacy, may increase the risk of unintended pregnancy among these women, sexual behavior and the frequency of intercourse could also be a factor.
Kaneshiro’s objective was to study the impact of body mass index on sexual behavior. It is important to understand this relationship because preexisting physician biases can affect how heavy women are counseled about pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases prevention.
Kaneshiro studied the relationship between body mass index and sexual behavior, including sexual orientation, age at first intercourse, number of partners, and frequency of intercourse.
“Our analysis demonstrated that obese and overweight women do not differ significantly in some of the objective measures of sexual behavior compared to women of normal weight,” said Kaneshiro.
“This study indicates that all women deserve diligence in counseling on unintended pregnancy and STD prevention, regardless of body mass index.”
The study seems to contradict widely held stereotypes that overweight and obese women are not as sexually active as other women. If anything, the researchers concluded the opposite seems to be true.
“I was glad to see that the stereotype that you have to be slender to have sex is just that, a stereotype,” said Oregon State University professor Marie Harvey.
Kaneshiro said the data showed that overweight women were more likely to report having sexual intercourse with a man, even when she controlled for age, race and type of residence.
Ninety-two percent of overweight women reported having a history of sexual intercourse with a man, as opposed to 87 percent of women with a normal body mass index.
“These results were unexpected and we don’t really know why this is the case,” Kaneshiro said.
Harvey said the important part to take away from the study is that physicians and others who work in women’s medical health should never make assumptions about sexual behavior based on outward appearances.
“Some medical practitioners may not do appropriate follow-up with women who are overweight, they might assume they aren’t having sex unless they are told otherwise,” Harvey said.
http://psychcentral.com/news/2008/10/31/weight-does-not-affect-sexual-activity/3241.html
My first reaction to the “news” that overweight women are actually able to arouse men to the point of (gasp!) having sex with them was actually surprise over the fact that, prior to this groundbreaking research, the scientific community as a whole believed that women who are not of a “normal” size (I’ll get to my feelings on “normal” in a minute) are, for lack of a better word, unfuckable.
It’s no secret that I would like to lose weight. I’m sure that the vast majority of women in this country (and probably a lot of men) would also like to. We are bombarded by images of what the ideal body looks like, an ideal that for most of us is completely unattainable, so it’s no wonder that many of us, myself included, suffer from body image issues. In fact, I suspect that the shocking revelation that fat women are indeed having sex is due to the fact that the vast majority of my gender is considered fat.
In spite of the body mass index, I find the concept of “normal” as it relates to body image meaningless. Assigning the “normal” label to swimsuit models and celebrities is unfair and irresponsible. Considering that human beings do not overwhelmingly possess the same body type, weight, size and shape, “normal” might best be applied to people who have two arms, two legs, and a head, all connected to a torso.
The first article mentions the earlier belief “that larger women had a lower libido, while thinner ones were more likely to be sexually active.” While I can imagine the short-sighted among us buying into such a ridiculous stereotype, I can’t imagine what sort of academic institution might come to such a conclusion. For the record, it’s not true, and as a woman with an almost constant libido, I’m very glad to be living proof.
The last paragraph of the first article states, “This study indicates that all women deserve diligence in counselling [sic] on unintended pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases, regardless of their weight.” Wow, really? It’s like, “Let’s not bother giving the fatty birth control. No way is she getting laid.”
Many women suffer from self-esteem issues due to their weight, and unfortunately these misconceptions don’t help the situation. Any woman has the potential to be sexual. A woman who is twenty pounds heavier than what is considered “ideal” is just as likely to be sexually active or, if the findings of the University of Hawaii Medical School are correct, even more likely. In fact, it’s possible that she might be better in bed than a thinner woman. I’m not saying it’s necessarily a fact (I would hate to generalize), but certainly possible, even likely. I’d like to think it’s true in my case.
-Jill
Let’s go back to elementary school, where we all learned about the five senses. You know the ones: Sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch. Most of us use all five senses every day without even thinking about it. I can honestly say that much of the stimuli I receive through the five senses is second nature, often barely even noticed by me.
Do you take any of your senses for granted? For the purposes of this post I am talking about the senses as they relate to sex. After spending some time thinking about the subject, Jill and I discovered that we have been doing exactly that. This is a situation we hope to remedy, especially in the bedroom. Or the living room. Or the bathroom, the garage, the car, the backyard, or anywhere else we might be going at it.
As part of our discussion on the subject, Jill and I separately ranked the importance of each sense, and then we shared our rankings with each other. We were not surprised to learn that our rankings were exactly the same, listed here in order from most important to least: Touch, sight, hearing, taste, and finally smell. (Jill notes that she originally ranked taste and hearing in the opposite order, but changed her mind.)
Sex feels great. There is no doubt that the sense of touch is, for most people, the most important one. Without the ability to feel physical stimulation, sex as we know it would be nothing like it currently is. It’s very unlikely that, without tactile sensation, Jill and I would enjoy sex as much as we do, or even be able to get off at all. In college, I had a classmate who was disabled, incapable of feeling anything from the waist down. He said that he could get an erection and actually have sex, though he felt nothing apart from the emotional connection to his wife.
Jill and I touch frequently, whether we’re holding hands in a public place, cuddling close together on the sofa, or sleeping beside each other at night. These situations aren’t overtly sexual, but when we touch it is frequently a reminder of more intimate contact.
Since it seems like such a no-brainer that the sense of touch plays the biggest role in sexual arousal, we felt no real urgency to test the hypothesis. However, in the interest of science we blindfolded each other and experimented with a few different items, including a silk handkerchief, a cotton wash towel, a smooth rolling back massager made of wood, a feather, and our hands. I don’t know the scientific term for it, but they all felt pretty good.
Keeping in mind the starring role that touch plays in sex, there are four other senses that are actively involved when we are intimate. Each one is important in enhancing the overall experience.
Although we both ranked sight as the second most important sense, in my opinion it’s only slightly less important than touch. Whether we are seeing each other masturbate, watching an adult movie, or observing our reflection in a mirror as we have sex, visual stimulation is a huge part of what turns us on. One recurring theme in our fantasies is voyeurism, often in the form of watching another couple have sex. The fact that Jill and I are both turned on by the thought of visual stimulation, and not necessarily the visual stimulation itself, speaks volumes about the importance of sight.
Hearing’s important too. However, until recently we mainly thought of hearing in relation to sight. Watching a porn film is hot, but listening to the sounds that accompany the visuals amps up the heat tenfold. However, Jill and I found that listening to the same porn film while not looking at the television led to much greater arousal than watching the television with the sound turned off. In fact, sometimes we’ll put a porn film on in the guest room, and have sex in our bedroom. The sounds of the couple in the movie excite us greatly, and while we have sex we fantasize that they’re actually in the next room. Clearly this is an instance wherein hearing is more important than sight.
After some reflection, we realized that we have placed a high value on our sense of hearing for at least as long as we’ve known each other. The first time we had sex, I was surprised by Jill’s enthusiasm. She was not shy, never hesitating to tell me what she liked, and what she wanted me to do. It went beyond dirty talk (something else she excelled at); the simple fact that she was vocal meant that she was involved and not passive, and I found this tremendously exciting.
Before we got married, Jill and I sometimes went days without seeing each other, and we would have phone sex quite often. Though a poor substitute for the physical intimacy we desired, phone sex was always satisfying. Listening to the person you love tell you the things she would like to do the next time you’re alone together, hearing the sounds she makes as she comes, and hearing her say that she’s turned on listening to you doing the same, each of these things involve two of our most unappreciated sexual organs, the ears.
We found the last two senses – taste and smell – subordinate to the first three with regard to sexual arousal, but they are still involved. Taste is probably the bigger of the two for both of us. We both love to kiss, and while much of this is due to touch – the way Jill’s tongue feels as it zips in and out of my mouth, for example – taste is a factor as well.
Jill finds the act of giving oral sex extremely arousing, to the point that she can sometimes come close to orgasm simply by doing it, with little if any stimulation of herself. She believes that this is due to the way I taste, though she admits that she’s also greatly excited by the knowledge that I enjoy it so much.
It’s widely understood that the sense of smell is most inextricably linked to our memories. What that means is that the smell of a certain type of car upholstery may subconsciously trigger memories of the fifth grade, when your dad might have driven a car with the same upholstery. I was reminded of this recently, when Jill and I went out to dinner. She wore a certain perfume that I haven’t smelled since one of our early dates, which happened to culminate in sex. Cut to last month. While sitting in the car on the way to the restaurant, I began to think about sex without knowing exactly why (other than the fact that I frequently think about sex). We were already planning to come home after dinner and have sex, but as I continued to drive I was surprised at the severity of my sudden arousal. As we arrived, I asked Jill if she’d ever worn that perfume before, and she told me not since we first started dating. I made the connection.
Unlike the experiments we did for our sense of touch, we didn’t really do anything to test our remaining senses. But in the future both Jill and I hope not to take these senses for granted, or at the very least be aware of them. To make better use of our sense of smell, we might try using scented candles or oils to set a sexy mood. Jill is a fan of sandalwood, a scent she finds particularly exciting. Additionally, we’ve got some scented massage oil we’d like to try out.
Regarding our sense of taste, we always hear or read that you should try incorporating food into your sex life. And sure, licking whipped cream off of Jill’s body is hot, but it’s not the taste of whipped cream that I’m interested in at that moment, it’s the taste of my wife. Because of this, and because we’re both actively trying to lose a few pounds, we don’t mix food and sex too often. Granted, our sense of taste isn’t one that we take too much for granted anyway.
We don’t really take our sense of hearing for granted, though in the interest of enhancing the experience from an aural perspective, I am trying to compile a playlist of songs that turn us on, so that we can have some music playing during sex. But not too loud; I would hate to miss any of our own sounds.
Like touch, we appreciate our sense of sight and I don’t think we take it for granted. We probably don’t spend enough time actually looking at each other prior to having sex, mainly because we’re both so excited that once the clothes come off we can’t wait. But that’s something I’d like to do more of. But we’ve never been the kind of couple to have sex with the lights out; we both love the visual, and typically spend as much time looking at our reflection in the mirror as we do looking into each other’s eyes.
So maybe we don’t take all of our senses for granted. We hope you don’t either.
-Jack
On Saturday, we were up and out very early. We had a busy but fun morning and, anticipating a late night, we returned to our hotel room in the early afternoon to take a nap, or at least spend some time watching television and not walking.
We headed to our room, Jill carrying her shoes in hand. The corridor was deserted, and she began unbuttoning her top. I was surprised by this, but after a minute the sight of my wife in an open blouse was so appealing that the threat of being seen by the cleaning staff did nothing to diminish my arousal.
“Like what you see?” she asked. It was a rhetorical question, as she already knew the answer. Walking backward, she tugged the sleeve of her blouse down, baring her shoulder. At the same time, her breasts threatened to spill forth from her bra, and I decided it would be best if I got us inside as soon as possible.
Then again, what was the rush? Though the hall was quiet and empty, I got a small charge out of the idea of someone coming out of his room and catching a glimpse of my wife partially undressed. Being watched is one of our biggest turn-ons, and I had no doubt that Jill was thinking the exact same thing I was.
We arrived at our room and I got our key card from my wallet. Jill turned me around before I could unlock the door. She reached down to touch me. “Want me to suck your cock?” she asked, smiling seductively. “I’ll get on my knees right now.” She squeezed her breasts together, and raised them up toward my face. “You could titty-fuck me, too. Would you like that?” Both options were very appealing, even moreso because of the fact that we weren’t locked safely in our room yet.
Jill unbuckled my belt. I felt like a Greek sailor, listening to the song of a beautiful Siren. Common sense told me to get this woman inside the room now, before we got caught doing something in a place we shouldn’t have been doing it. At the same time, I liked the idea of giving in. The exhibitionism aspect was exciting for sure, and I was really temped to listen to her Siren song, damn the consequences. We were right outside our room. It wasn’t like we couldn’t get inside in a hurry if need be.
I asked Jill if she wanted me to whip it out. She just laughed, took the room key from me, and unlocked the door. She pushed me inside, and before the door clicked shut her blouse hit the floor, the rest of her clothes right behind it. I followed suit, and we were atop the sex bed seconds later.
I maneuvered myself between Jill’s soft, warm thighs and began to massage them, as I gazed upon her smoothly-shaven pussy. The method she’d chosen to wake me up that morning was still very fresh in my mind, and I wanted to return the favor, to satisfy my hunger for her while satisfying her as well. As I began to nuzzle and lick her clit I rubbed her lips. She was extremely wet; my fingers slipped inside with no resistance.
While I continued to lick and suck on her, I worked my fingers in and out, pressing on her G-spot in the exact manner that had led her to orgasm many times before. As I did, I felt Jill’s hand on my head, pressing my face deep into her. Her thighs tightened around my head and with no warning beyond a single, sustained moan she came, very forcefully.
“Hot,” she said dreamily, and we lay in silence for awhile. Then Jill climbed up on top and rode me to another orgasm, an orgasm by all indications just as intense as her first one. She wasted no time before moving onto all fours and inviting me inside her. I wasted no time before accepting her invitation. I squatted behind her and she put me in. As I rode her, I caressed her breasts, and she leaned back so we could kiss. The taste of her tongue, and the feel of her body, ensured that I wouldn’t last very long.
Then housekeeping came in and scared the hell out of us. Jill screamed. She will probably insist that I was the one who screamed, and not her, but that’s not how I remember it. We pulled the covers over us quickly and sat there in the bed like frightened animals, unsure of what to say or do. The cleaning ladies backed out of the room, giggling and speaking Spanish. I’m sure it wasn’t the first time they’d walked in on people having sex.
When they were gone, I warily got up and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside of the door, then moved the metal latch into place so we wouldn’t be disturbed again. I returned to the sex bed to find Jill standing beside it, bent over and bracing herself against the mattress. In spite of the intrusion, the sight of her standing there, waiting for me, was all I needed to get back into the mood. In a minute I was back inside her, and not long after I was spent. Soon after that, we were enjoying our nap.
-Jack
We arrived at the hotel after eleven o’clock on Friday night. There was a mix-up when we made our reservation, and instead of the king-sized bed we had been looking forward to sleeping in the whole drive down, we ended up with two queens. We were both exhausted. I had been up since five a.m., and Jack was still adjusting to West Coast time after his trip. We had an early start planned the next morning. Neither of us was about to complain over the hotel’s error.
When we finished checking in, we got our bags from the car and headed to our room. As we passed the swimming pool and hot tub, both enclosed behind a fence and locked up for the night, Jack said, “One bed for sleeping and one bed for sex.” I had been thinking the exact same thing. The hotel room we spent our first Valentine’s Day weekend in also had two queen-sized beds. Though it might seem gross or crude, it can be very nice to finish up having sex in one bed and be able to go to sleep in another, without having to change the sheets or even fix the blankets.
We let ourselves into the room and unpacked our things. Jack lay down on one of the beds (the “sleeping bed”) and turned on the TV. I went into the bathroom to take a shower and shave. I hoped Jack would join me, but I knew that he needed his rest. When my lonely shower was over, I dried off and went back into the room, where I found Jack asleep in front of the television. I sat on the bed beside him, and watched TV for a few minutes. I would love to be the kind of woman who’d jostle her husband out of a well-deserved rest, but I just couldn’t do it.
I got my toy out of my suitcase and lay down on the other bed (the “sex bed”, obviously). I thought about a fantasy that kept me happy while Jack was out of town, and went exploring. Even while I was playing, I hoped Jack would wake up, see what I was doing, and come help. The fantasy sent me to new heights, and it wasn’t long before I came. I was very glad that I had a different bed to sleep in.
I awoke very early the next morning when the alarm on my cell phone went off. Jack had awakened sometime during the night and gotten undressed. Now I reached over to touch him, slowly running my fingers across his chest. He didn’t stir. I pulled the bedsheet off of him, revealing his nakedness. His cock was limp and in need of attention, so I moved closer and began to kiss it all over. Though he didn’t wake up, he did stir. In fact, after a few moments of soft kisses he was completely erect.
I followed the kisses with long, agonizing licks from his balls all the way up to the tip of his head, one after the other. Jack finally woke, and tried to sit up. I pushed him back down onto the pillow, and resumed licking. As I did, I caressed his balls with one hand, gently rocking him with the other. I loved the sounds he made, quiet moans and shallow breaths. It excited me, as always, to know how much he enjoyed what I was doing.
He began to throb, and I held him in place while I slid my lips all the way down his length. As my mouth bobbed up and down on his cock, my hand followed, stroking him toward my lips. His moans grew louder, and soon he started undulating his hips, thrusting against me as I worked to take him deeper and deeper into my mouth. He managed a whispered warning – as though I needed it – and then he was coming with as much force as I had the night before.
We lay there for a few moments as Jack’s heartbeat slowed down to normal, and I basked in the excitement of what just happened. After a couple minutes he said, “We should have moved to the sex bed.” I had forgotten we even had one. We got up and took a shower, and started our day.
-Jill
Wow! We haven’t posted in almost a week. Sorry about that. Hopefully the next couple entries will make up for our laziness.
We came across this letter to Dear Abby in our local paper a couple weeks ago. It’s relevant to the subject matter of our blog, and worth the couple minutes it will take you to read. In fact, when I read the letter, I was reminded of Mia Wallace’s concerns about morning breath when having spontaneous sex in the middle of the night.
COUPLE CAN’T SEE SOLUTION TO VEXING VISION PROBLEM
DEAR ABBY: I’m a single 59-year-old man who is dating an attractive 40-year-old woman. I wear glasses, and she wears contact lenses, which she takes out before we go to bed at night. Of course, I remove my glasses.
The problem is, when we become intimate, we can barely see each other — even with the lights on. We want to know what each other looks like when we’re making love. Any suggestions? — EYES WIDE OPEN IN ROGERS, ARK.
DEAR EYES WIDE OPEN: I am not a vision expert, and this is something you should discuss with your eye-care professional. However, because you are both blind as bats without corrective lenses, perhaps it’s time you considered the Braille method.
When I first read this letter, as well as Dear Abby’s reply, I was surprised, and a little confused. Jack and I are in our thirties, and I will be the first to admit that sometimes when we are having particularly enthusiastic sex, the kind that leaves us covered in sweat, with our heartbeats much faster than normal, it can be tempting to just pass out as soon as we’re finished. Perhaps when we reach our late fifties, the act of love will be so exerting for us that we can’t perform simple functions like taking off our glasses or taking out our contact lenses between orgasm and sleep. But until I know for sure whether this is true, I can’t help but wonder why these two insist on removing their corrective lenses before they go at it.
Also, we’ve got a request to ask of our readers. We are trying to increase readership of this blog, and due to the subject matter we are completely clueless about how to do that. Obviously we aren’t going to send out a mass e-mail informing all of our friends, co-workers and family that we’ve got a blog in which we discuss every aspect of our sex life. There aren’t too many people we know personally who would be interested in reading this blog, and who we would be comfortable sharing it with. Also, we aren’t very keen on the idea of advertising our blog on some random message board. We’d like to have at least some control over who reads it.
The request is simple: If you have any suggestions of how we might go about getting more readers to our blog, we’d love to hear your thoughts. (Especially if you happened to have a sex blog at some point in the past, hint hint.) Also, if you know anyone who might like to read about the exploits of a very open-minded and sexually adventurous thirtysomething couple, preferably someone mature who doesn’t giggle every time he or she reads the word “cock” or “pussy”, feel free to tell them about the blog.
-Jill
Three thousand miles, to be exact.
This week, Jack is out of town. We haven’t been in the same room in five days. It’s rare for us to be apart this long, especially since we’ve been married. But whenever we go a couple days without making love, or even without seeing each other, it strengthens our desire for one another.
As you know if you read my “Toy Box” entry, I have a small collection of sex toys that I am fond of using. My two newest toys, which Jack bought me a couple weeks ago, couldn’t have been given to me at a better time. Since he’s been gone, I’ve managed to find the time to use them once a day, usually right after my bath, just before bedtime. Though I probably don’t need any added stimulation, I put an adult movie on, light a candle on my nightstand, and turn off the room lights. Then I take about forty-five minutes to explore and touch every inch of my body, with my fingers as well as my toys, whatever it takes to get myself where I want to go. It’s exquisite, even if it is no substitute for the touch of the man I love.
When I got home yesterday evening, I turned on the television and sat down to check my e-mail. To my surprise, Jack was online, and he immediately sent me an instant message. We chatted for awhile, and he told me about his day. He and the friend he is travelling with had just come in from dinner and drinks, and were hanging out at the hotel before turning in for the night.
I remembered that Jack’s laptop had a built-in webcam. At one point, I joked that he should give me a show. Of course, I knew that wouldn’t be feasible for him with his friend in the room, and I wasn’t about to return the favor under those circumstances either. Don’t misunderstand me, I am not against the idea or even the practice of showing off on camera for someone other than my husband (with his permission). I actually find it quite sexy, and a tremendous boost for my self-esteem. But this particular friend doesn’t do it for me. Sorry, nothing personal, friend!
Jack suggested that he excuse himself to the bathroom for some privacy. Excited by this idea, I ran to the bedroom to get one of my toys. When I returned to the living room, the invitation to view Jack’s webcam was on screen. I accepted his invite and was instantly treated to the sight of Jack’s smiling face. A flowery shower curtain hung in the background. I was eager to see more of him, and when I told him so he moved the webcam down to give me a quick but enticing look. Then he moved it back up, showing me his face once again as he typed. That’s when it dawned on me: Having a built-in webcam means you can’t aim it below the belt and type at the same time. While Jack’s built-in webcam seems more reliable than our old USB webcams, there is definitely an advantage to having a webcam you can point anywhere regardless of the angle of your screen.
Speaking of which, I was going to need to find one of our USB webcams, or else the show would be very one-sided. I hurried to Jack’s office, relieved to find that one of the webcams was just where I expected it to be. I connected it, set it down on the TV tray that held my laptop, and once Jack was watching, I sent him a message telling him to enjoy the show. Then I began to strip off my clothes, slowly and seductively.
When I was naked, I sat down, seeing Jack’s excited expression on his webcam. I moved mine so that it was once again pointing at me, and gave him a nice view of me from my face down to my breasts. I took my toy in hand and began to use it. I know what he really wanted to see, of course. But I couldn’t think of any reason not to tease him for awhile first. Not even the fact that he was tying up the single bathroom.
The expression of excitement on his face gave way to pleasure. I knew what he was doing, and the thought of it made me feel very hot. I tried to picture him as he was, maybe naked like me, or else still dressed but with his jeans open, allowing him total access. I tried to picture his hand around his hard, delicious cock, stroking it back and forth, very intent on orgasm.
He messaged me again, requesting that I move the webcam. A less-secure woman might have thought that the sight of her face and breasts just wasn’t turning him on. However, I supposed that he had been teased for long enough. I moved the webcam so that it broadcasted an unobstructed view of my new rabbit thrusting in and out of my slippery-wet pussy, then put my feet up on the corners of the TV tray as I played. The feeling of my toy was overwhelming, as was the thought of what Jack was doing almost a world away. His face contorted in an obvious orgasm, one I was sorry I couldn’t share with him. For a moment I regretted not asking him to turn the camera toward his cock as he came, even as the thought of witnessing it pushed me over the edge as well.
Just one more day…
-Jill
I walked into the house Monday night, the story Jack wrote for me still very fresh in my mind. I set my purse down on the living room floor and walked into the pool room, where I found my husband on the treadmill, his headphones over his ears as he ran in place. His eyes were focused on nothing at all, and he stared straight ahead. He didn’t notice me. I thought about walking closer, or even waving my arms back and forth wildly in an attempt to get his attention, but I didn’t. Instead I walked out of the pool room and back into the living room, where I took off my clothes.
I walked back into the room where Jack was working out, hoping to surprise him with my nakedness and lure him to our bed. Done with his workout, he stepped off the slowing treadmill and walked toward me. He was excited to see that his story had the desired effect. Jack took me in his arms and kissed me hello, and I told him how much I enjoyed his story. “Next time we go on vacation, maybe we can get a room with a balcony,” he suggested. As he held me in his arms, I could feel his heart beating rapidly against me. His embrace was secure but gentle, and he smelled just like a man who’s been working out should, sweaty but not unpleasant. Nevertheless, I suggested we take a shower.
We huddled under the hot spray, water cascading down our bodies. Though the intimacy of the shower was exciting, I couldn’t wait to get out and get started, and I hoped Jack couldn’t either. When we finally got out and dried off, we stood in front of the bathroom counter and kissed for a long while. Then I turned and put my right leg up on the counter, just like in the story. Jack, standing behind me, began to massage my ass while I lowered a hand and played with myself a little. Soon he got down on his knees and began to pleasure me with his mouth and his hands, and when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he stood up quickly and entered me. I came hard, my pussy gushing like a burst water balloon as I collapsed against the bathroom countertop.
When I recovered from my orgasm, it was Jack’s turn. I moved him against the countertop and slowly sank to my knees, kissing him all the way down. When I reached his cock, still dripping wet from my very intense climax, I took it in my mouth and swallowed as deeply as I could. A moan of pleasure was my reward as I began to work my mouth up and down his hardness, tasting my own wetness on my tongue as I did. As I sucked him, I played with his balls, caressing them gently with one hand while stroking him up against my mouth with the other. It took him very little time to come, and then we returned to the warmth of the shower.
Jill
I don’t write a whole lot of adult stories. For one thing, Jill is a hell of a lot better at it than I am. For another, I’m usually too lazy to actually come up with a story. I know I should make the effort, as writing such a story gets me pretty worked up, and then e-mailing it to Jill ensures she’ll be ready for sex when she gets home. It’s a no-brainer. The problem is that I am usually content to let her do the work.
Yesterday, however, I decided to make the effort. Jill’s worth it, after all. Besides, the night before last I had a dream that provided the most basic spark for the story, the sort of dream you wake up from way too soon and wish you could pick up where you left off the next time you fall asleep. Inspired by the dream, I was determined to write Jill a story that would keep her from concentrating on work, or anything else, until she came home.
Here it is:
I awaken in the dark. You lie beside me, breathing quietly in your sleep. This mattress is much more firm than our bed at home. Unable to sleep, I sit up on the edge of the bed. The room is quiet save for a faint buzzing sound coming from the alarm clock. It is a quarter past one.
I stand up. Sweat clings to my forehead and the back of my neck. I cross the room to the air conditioner, barely able to see it in near blackness. I turn it on, and frigid air begins to billow from the machine’s vents. I stand there naked and luxuriate in the sudden cold. After a moment, I turn and unlock the sliding glass door that leads out onto our room’s balcony.
I slide the door open and step outside, somehow not surprised to feel warm air surrounding me despite the hour. I brace myself against the railing and look down at the parking lot two stories below. A few cars are parked in the lot, our rental
included. No one is loitering in the parking lot. Nearby, the hotel pool is also deserted. If it were not so late, the pool would be full of hotel guests trying to escape the oppressive heat. In fact, I am ready to return to the room and the
icy-cold air emanating from the air conditioner when I feel your touch.You press your lips to the side of my neck and begin to kiss me. I reach back to touch you. You move closer to me, pressing your bare breasts into my back. I turn, and our mouths melt together in an eager kiss. Your hands move down my body, finding my cock in an instant. You stroke me, and as I try to return the favor, you push my hand away and whisper that it’s all about me. As you continue to move your hand up and down my length, you lean close and kiss my chest, taking my nipple into your mouth and sucking. Your hand drives me wild with pleasure, gently twisting me in a loose grip. You kiss your way down my body, then drop to your knees and take me into your mouth.
I close my eyes and enjoy your ministrations, feeling the combined efforts of your hands, your lips and your tongue. It is almost too intense, and as my eyes roll back in my head I have to make a conscious effort not to give in to my orgasm – yet. Still, as you continue what you’re doing, I dare to look down at your head, moving back and forth. I’ve got to stop, or it’s going to be over very soon.
I reach down and pull you back up to your feet. We share another kiss, a shorter one this time, and then I push you up against the railing so that you are facing away from me. Leaning against the railing, you arch your back and thrust your ass
toward me, giving me a very inviting target. You want me inside you, but there’s something else I need first. As I get on my knees and attack you with my mouth from behind, what I want is all too clear.I spread you open with my hands as I bury my tongue inside you. As I lap at your pussy vigorously, you lower a hand to your clit, your fingers matching my tongue stroke for stroke. You’re already soaking wet; before long you’re well on your way to climax. As I try to probe my tongue deeper and deeper inside of you, you raise your right leg up onto the railing, allowing me greater access. Breathlessly, you tell me you need me inside of you. I stand up, guiding my steel-hard cock where you so desperately want it.
I hold your hips, the feel of your body making me high. You race to meet each thrust, not content to be passive. Your moans excite me, and as your climax overwhelms you, you ride my thrusts even harder than before. Before long we both come. You collapse against the railing, and I against you, and we slowly catch our breath, then return to the cool of the room.
-Jack