BDSM: My Journey

I originally wrote this story almost one year ago in the aftermath of some pretty tumultuous events, though it seems like a lifetime ago. It was never intended for publication, it was merely a way for me to make sense of the craziness that my life had become at that point. This is not in any way designed to justify my behaviour, it’s simply the unvarnished truth. Such as the truth is likely to be, it is sometimes ugly but also funny, beautiful and astoundingly erotic (at least I know a couple of people who think so). This is the mad tale of how I had an affair and it somehow led to the most fulfilling and life-changing relationship with my wife…

So I will try to keep the back-story as succinct as possible. I suppose I am just your not-so-average, middle-aged, white-male. I guess I could have been described as a pretty-boy, and the adorableness of my childhood eventually changed into the handsomeness of a young man as I came into maturity. I turn heads, stop-traffic, induce blushes and smiles and winks just out in the general public. I’m hot, I’m sexy, I know it, and a vast sampling of the population knows it too. I’m tall, handsome, slender, charming, well-spoken and well-hung. I’m sure some guys would think that was awesome, but it’s really mostly an annoyance (especially when you’re married). Suffice it to say I’ve gotten laid more than the average guy throughout my lifetime, though I’ve never really had to bother with a pick-up line…

I’ve always been a slut, even as far back as kindergarten I had had girl-friends, kissing on the playground but never getting past first-base until high-school. While my locker-room buddies were talking smack about trying to get girls, I was literally getting head in the bathroom stall from my girlfriend. My late-teens and early twenties were largely spent in various bedrooms. I had the kind of game that comes naturally from spending a lifetime in the presence of girls, trying to figure out what they want and need. Far from just a pretty-face; I know how to handle a woman, an art that has taken thousands of man-hours, and countless orgasms to master, so don’t waste your time with those whack-ass pick-up-artist gurus. Get off your ass and get out there and get in balls-deep even elbow-deep and start racking up those XP like a real player in the game…

I learned a lot about myself in those years, what I desire, what I enjoy, but I tried it all (except guys, children, corpses or barnyard animals). And although it took me many years to fully admit to myself, and embrace; I love fat women. It started from a place of loving women of all shapes and sizes (which I still do), but man, big-girls get me going. It was an open secret for years judging by the women I could be seen in public with. I also prefer women on the older end of the spectrum; hot teens were all well and good when I was one myself, but these days it’s MILFs for me…

But as time goes on a man can eventually conquer so much territory that he needs to start thinking about a legacy. I couldn’t just fuck bitches for the rest of my life; no matter how much I loved it, but settling down was only a small whisper in the back of my mind when I met the woman who would become my wife at the age of 25. We met on an S&M ‘alternative lifestyles’ website. We were both experienced enough with the scene that we knew our roles, she’s a naughty sub slut with hungry holes, and though ultimately I am a switch, she meshes well with my dom-flow. We hit it off immediately, and mind-blowing fuck-sessions eventually turned into an exclusive relationship that really hasn’t ended since, though it’s gone to so many different places…

So I’ve told you about how I’m a slut, but another weakness of mine is being attracted to sluts, and my slave-turned-girlfriend was possessed of a notorious past. She had conquered thrice the amount of territory as I; she kept a neatly-folded and lengthy list of names in her toy-chest, next to a comically large strap-on monster-cock (which was never used on me). Hardly wife material one might argue, but somehow we largely managed to stay fully committed to each-other, but I’ll get to that later. Somehow a couple of filthy sluts eventually became your average typical boring married couple. We packed away the crazy sex for the same old, routine, efficient sex that becomes obligatory on week-ends and holidays…

The only time I was routinely fucking my wife it seemed was when we were trying to conceive our children. Though in some ways that time period did renew and bolster our love and commitment. It was a few months before the birth of our first child when I first fed on my wife. I was feeling somewhat playful and was admittedly curious as to what human milk tastes like (having not been breast-fed as an infant). It was warm, and so very sweet, like cream, but much thinner, it made my dick rock-hard. Pretty soon there wasn’t a time I was fucking her when I didn’t have one of her tits in my mouth. It was a time I will always remember fondly, but like all good things, it came to end with the birth of our child. When one barely has two hours to sleep, kinky fuck-sessions are simply not a priority…

So things slipped back into the same-old as they always were, though noticeably deteriorating, to the point where we did not even sleep in the same bed, and our encounters could be counted on one hand for an entire year. By the time our second baby was born, we had so little physical contact that I couldn’t even muster-up the nerve to even attempt to milk her. That was when things started to get really trying. I have been a full-time stay-at-home father for six years and cuddling babies all-day long has a measurable and noticeable effect on a man. Now-well-documented evolutionary forces will cause a man to limit testosterone production when faced with full-time child-rearing and mine bottomed-out at the point where I no longer even wanted sex, during this time my wife was also taking medication that causes reduced libido, a perfect storm was brewing that would eventually lead me on a near-disastrous journey…

The final straw for me came during a nice family vacation to an isolated cabin in the backwoods. I finally had a chance to sleep in the same bed as my wife, the kids were fast asleep in another room, and I was bound and determined to get mine. I’ve already mentioned how my wife is a sub, she likes it rougher than I am usually prepared to give it, but I happened to be in a dominant mood that night and I fucking worked it. We didn’t say a word about it (because we never really even talked to each-other by that point), but I fisted her relentlessly to such a climax that her entire pussy convulsed into full clamp-down-mode. I sent her uterus off into violent enough convulsions that it shook loose the lining and brought on blood-clots. I rocked her like no man should ever do to the mother of his children, and she loved every minute of it…

I laugh when I think that this was the kind of sex we were having, and here I am describing this as our boring and every-day married-couple-sex. The next morning however I was greeted to a tired and sore wife telling me to basically fuck-off. Perhaps if she had just said that she needed to rest, instead of that I hurt her and needed to leave her alone things would have worked out differently, but in my estrogen-soaked state and deep into what in hindsight was clearly top drop I took immediate offence. I decided that it was the last time I would fuck my wife for a while, maybe even the last time at all…

I suppose like most other people I have my share of secrets, a couple of those extend into the internet sphere. I probably watched way more porn than is really healthy, and I am a notorious chat-room flirt. It’s the latter of those bad-habits which nearly destroyed my whole life. It started out as an innocent game, I’ve always been excited by the conquest more so than the awkward sex with strangers, so instead of picking up girls at the bar, I would hang out on dating site chats and pick up women whom I never had any intention of hooking up with IRL. It seemed to me to be harmless, as long as it stayed at flirting…

A few days after we returned from vacation I happened to check my email to be met with news from one of my chat-buddies that she was getting a divorce. My immediate mistake was breaking-character and offering her a shoulder to cry on. She complained about her soon-to-be ex-husband, how he could never do her right, I explained how my problem was somehow the opposite, I was currently in the dog-house with my wife for fucking her too-hard (though I didn’t hear any complaints at the time). One thing eventually led to another and before I knew it we were face-to-face in a parking lot while I was initiating her into the rites of the cult of Bacchus, having agreed to become her master. Oh yeah, I guess I didn’t mention about how I’m an ordained priest of the ancient Roman god of sex, but that is a whole other lengthy story…

Now I’m not really sure how most people’s slut-training relationships work (those few that have them) but apparently it’s pretty universal that taking on a new slave without your wife’s consent is a major breach of etiquette. Not to mention that cheating on your spouse is generally asshole-like behaviour. I’ve agreed in the interests of decency to skip-over the lurid details of that brief and ill-fated discipleship. It is important to note however, that I knowingly engaged in shameful behaviour, and I was ultimately not able to take pleasure in it myself because of that fact. It felt wrong, because it was wrong. I accepted the responsibility for my actions and was very much prepared for the time when my wife would inevitably wise up to my shenanigans…

Now while my wife might like to take it rough in the bedroom, she sure as hell comes out swinging outside of it. I was fully expecting such a scene to devolve into having to dodge a kitchen knife or two, and naturally, a guy like me keeps precision-crafted, high-carbon steel, battle-ready knives in his kitchen drawer. My wife is really not the sort of woman to be fucked with lightly, and the night she discovered seedy motel room charges on my credit-card statement she responded with a flurry of blows to the head that would set any hockey-goon to blushing…

Of course she took full advantage of my gentlemanly nature to get in some solid cheap-shots knowing full well that I would not be so uncouth as to strike a lady. Surely enough, the weapons were indeed half-heartedly pulled out before being casually and effectively disarmed. It was as crazy of a fight as we’ve ever had, and as always, I never threw a punch…

A strange thing happened though, after enduring a few hours of being attacked and suffering the high-stress of trying to save our marriage, I had finally been pushed around too much and for once I pushed back, I backed her up against a wall one arm on either side of her restraining her, and asked her in a rage-filled, yet strangely calm voice, if she really wanted to fuck with me? I even said it twice to make sure she knew I was serious. My wife would go on to confess later that it was that moment that made her melt, it reminded her of who the master was, and even though it was a very serious moment she really just wanted me to fuck her right then. It wouldn’t turn-out to be quite as easy as all that, there were still hours of grave and heart-wrenching discussions between us about the future of our relationship and all, but we at least came to the conclusion that we would try to work things out…

In the course of these discussions we also, seemingly for the first time, talked openly and directly about our sexual desires, well as openly as we ever did. One of the many hard-truths we had discussed about our relationship; lack of communication, was definitely the starting point to attack. My wife started listing off her turn-ons; spanking, light bondage, hard-fucking, fisting, anal; I scoffed at the last one, she had kept her backdoor under lock and key going on a decade now and I wasn’t shy about reminding her of it even though I was usually even shyer than she was about speaking about such things. I suggested to her that it might be easier for me to write to her rather than say it face-to-face, I was also sure that I wasn’t going to be chatting with random internet strangers anymore, so why not my own wife. Our naughty sexting relationship is a source of daily pleasure and intense arousal now; I would recommend it to any married couple…

As awkward as that conversation was though it had clearly left both of us frisky. We were talking graphically about just the sorts of things that get us off, and there was a palpable aura of impending sex hanging in the air. I weakly protested that I wasn’t sure when I could be emotionally ready to become physically intimate with her again, though I am sure that it was half-meant as a challenge to her. She took the bait; so to speak…

There still rages a debate to this day about who initiated things, but regardless of who made the first move, with the ease of a pair of lovers that have shared a decade and a half and hundreds-if-not-thousands of orgasms, it took nothing more than a shared look and somehow she was swiftly mounted up cow-girl, riding on my throbbing dick. I would probably say that we made love, though I am not sure how roughly you can handle a woman’s breasts before it starts to become fucking (I probably crossed that line). Thank Providencia we had just barely finished up before our oldest child burst in to the room and asked why mommy was sitting on daddy (thankfully fully clothed)…

The biggest take-away for me was how it felt so terrifically right, much as it always did, I love my wife so much that I seem to get off almost no-matter the circumstance. Even as hard as I do fuck her, I still feel like we are making love because I feel love for her. How could I have ever been such a fool to forget that? We had cleared an important hurdle, but I pretty much expected to be in the dog-house for a long-while. The next morning however, convinced me that things actually had a chance to change for the better…

For the first time in the nearly three years since we conceived our youngest child, she came into my room at dawn and climbed into bed with me. I had spent many a lonely night fantasizing about so simple a thing (which I had now told her about), and it was finally happening. She was greeted to my stiff morning wood grinding up against her round and ample ass as I spooned her from behind until she; seemingly out of nowhere, grabbed my dick and purposefully guided it into her ass-hole. I was totally confused, if this was the dog-house, she could chain and collar me, and call me Fido all day long…

So there I was lovingly ass-fucking my wife for the first time in many-years, it was very hard to hold back and be gentle, but I had to. I have yet to meet a woman that hasn’t been instantly scared by the prospect of taking my big cock in their ass. I suppose I would be the one scared, if I did meet one that wasn’t intimidated. She took as much as her un-lubricated ass could take without training (she is such a good slut) but I just couldn’t hold back any more, I needed to fuck her hard, I rammed my cock hilt-deep into her pussy and pounded her with everything I had until I collapsed in a sweat-drenched and heaving pile of quivering and satisfied Jell-O…

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the start of a month-long journey of epic and nearly constant fucking (2-3 times daily), that I’m not even sure I have the words to do justice to. That evening was when we finally got back to sharing a bed. Our fuck-sessions were again sweat-soaked series of orgasms from all sides but I was still holding back on the communication end…

We were exchanging very naughty and highly inflammatory texts and e-mails but I was still beating around the bush about my truest desires. I had been slowly working in discussions about milking her, and hinting around about wanting to make her squirt. But it really was the same sort of thing that led to our estrangement in the first place. I needed to be more bold and direct…

Our relationship dynamic had quite naturally evolved over the years. No longer was I the Christian Grey-esque young cocky master, I had become the sexy-daddy on the block that sets the neighbourhood moms to gossiping and the school-girls to giggling. The more I learned about the daddy-dom role, the more I was intrigued; although I’m not really into the age-play part of it (I like women not girls). She was no longer the insatiable young name-collector I had first met. She had over the years, become exactly the sort of plump and juicy hot-mommy that I had spent too much of our marriage looking at on the internet. I started to think that we shouldn’t so much be trying to reinvent the wheel as we should be trying to build a better exotic luxury car…

This was the same woman to whom I’d earlier sent a copy of the initiation guide of the mysteries of Bacchus. I wasn’t even aware I knew how to still blush up until that moment. My wife started to take seriously the notion that I might be actually literally insane. She had known in a sort of off-hand way that I had gradually taken up worship of the old pagan gods, but it wasn’t until then that she realized just how seriously I take it. I suppose I can’t blame her, even I find it disturbing that I have been able to craft a coherent, historically accurate, and philosophically sound system of theology based on a 2000 year old, long extinct, sex-cult; oh the things that got me through the days when we weren’t having sex for months at a time…

I explained to her how it started as an exercise in satire to serve as an illustration that many religions from Mormonism to Islam were often started by men for the secret purposes of fucking women. At least my religion is honest about that. It admittedly got a little out of hand from there. Thinking of that moment helped me to break the ice and raised some worthwhile questions about how our relationship should be structured. It was almost laughable that I could ever be her trainer, what could even a wizened Flamen of Bacchus hope to teach such a naturally gifted slut? Surely I’d had already made whatever mark I could on her in our lengthy relationship. She was clearly already worthy of being elevated to the ranks of the Bacchae, the infamous frenzied Amazon sex priestesses of the Liberator, even if she wouldn’t acknowledge that title…

I am able now to sum up our Faustian bargain quite succinctly but it was seemingly difficult for me to articulate then. It’s a simple exchange:

My good-girl must submit, and I mean fully submit her entire mind and body to her daddy, in exchange, I grant her the fullest possible range of mind-blowing and life-altering orgasms;

That’s the closest I guess I can come to a pick-up line, but if it can be delivered convincingly and with the goods to back it up that line would work on so many more women than you’d think…

The type of submission I require isn’t just the weekend warrior, cuff-me and fuck-me sort of thing. Fucking on this level requires rigorous physical training and induces changes in the very makeup of our bodies. I started to very seriously talk about milking my wife. She also fondly remembered the feeding sessions we had, and was very disappointed that I didn’t try when the last baby was born. I started to explain the concepts of re-inducing lactation naturally. She said that she trusted that I knew what to do to her and was game to try. I explained that my suckling would only work in tandem with her true desire to nourish me, and how if we were successful she would start to go through changes in her breasts and body and an altering of her hormonal balances. I explained the role of oxytocin in the brain in both lactation and female sexual arousal. I explained to her also the changes that I would undergo as a result of consuming her essence.

I suppose I should thank Providencia that my wife had never breast-fed our children; her experiences of being milked were easily and naturally associated with the female arousal side of oxytocin since I was always literally fucking her when I was doing it. During our first session I had barely begun suckling before her pussy was as wet as I’ve ever casually felt it, it also still made my dick rock-hard. I had sucked on my wife’s breasts for years but never with a purpose or using the appropriate latching techniques. Even if I could only ever get a few drops from her at least daddy found a new button to push to get my girl instantly wound up.

Inducing is a process that takes real commitment, multiple sessions per day for weeks, I was actually pretty sceptical going in, but we truly have made amazing progress. Know that even as I tell the rest of this crazy story, there are daily, ever-present feeding and fucking sessions going on in the background. They are epic in their own right. I call her mommy as I beg for her to squirt a beautiful stream of warm and sweet milk directly into the back of my throat. It literally makes both of us spasm and moan at the same time, washing us in waves of love and desire. The feeling is almost indescribable when I have fully half her breast in my mouth working the underside with the whole length of my tongue, as gushers of cream are blowing off in all directions. The only part I could possibly dislike is the feeling of her breasts empty, it is such an intimate act of love and bonding and just by itself would have made me a happy man for life. But somehow that is just one of several intertwining journeys that we have been on together during this period…

There was still the matter of the rigorous physical training, my wife’s anal training progressing in tandem with my own (my mommy milks me too). We have become frequent shoppers at the neighbourhood toy-shop; lubes, vibes, and a variety of training plugs and bondage equipment. We were quickly running out of space in the sock-drawer to hide our kinky paraphernalia. I somehow almost forgot about the sometimes comical spankings, and the fisting and dp sessions, and I was also responsible for holding up my end of the bargain with all of those mind bending orgasms I was talking about. Also there were the privileges I enjoy of having full and unrestricted access to all three of her holes, all willing to receive my loads. I am amazed at the sheer volume of intense fucking that we’ve been able to maintain. Forget ten minute quickies every couple of months, this is multiple hours-long crazy sessions every day, I can barely wrap my mind around it all…

My life is a daze of near constant arousal, tempered only by my love and attention to my children, I can only imagine some of the states my poor wife has had to endure at work. When this journey started it seemed like we had returned to how much we loved each other at the beginning of our relationship, a spark re-kindled, now though it has blown past any thing either of us could have hoped for. How could I even answer the question, how is your sex-life? If any of my buddies were to bring it up in real-life, I would probably start making sex-faces and moaning uncontrollably as I thought of the answer…

It’s so very hard to deal with this material chronologically because of the immensity of its scope. Perhaps I can best deal with things topically, and thematically. I suppose the next stream of our kinky fuck-relationship to develop was our adventures with the g-spot. My wife is not a fantastic squirter, she takes a long-time and a lot of hard-work for very-little volume. Over the years I had managed to illicit a few occasional gushes with my dick, but it was something that I had largely given up on trying to do to my wife. The problem is I absolutely love to make a woman cum this way. After those initial hints I stopped beating around the bush and started beating up her g-spot…

First with my fingers, slipping in the middle-two (like making a devil-horns sign) easily finding the mark; the ridged area on the front wall, you need to slowly rub the area back and forth, start to build up a rhythm, making a come-hither motion, I could feel her g-spot swelling-up, filling with fluid, she moaned and started grinding her hips, her pussy got immediately wetter. It was time to work it, pulling down hard on the come-here curls, pulling back and forth from the elbow, I was giving it everything I had, my wife was begging me not to stop but I just couldn’t endure it. I had used my off-arm, the weaker of the two, and my pussy-working arm muscles in my forearm were out of shape and were screaming with lactic acid build-up, I collapsed in a panting, and sweating heap. I had failed in the first attempt but I was not going to give up so easily.

My wife suggested fisting might get the job done, though I suspect she would suggest it as a cure for a lot of things (my good-girl just loves to be fisted). I’ll leave the details of that to their proper place, but while I had wrecked her into a variety of epic orgasms there still was nothing-doing on the squirting front. Ok I guess my hands weren’t getting it done so I had to try another tool…

I stumbled upon the key almost by accident, already several orgasms deep into the night my wife was cuffed to the bed at the wrists and ankles. I had been working over her clit with a small textured vibrator, a sudden thought occurred to me and I flipped the textured side over and went searching for her g-spot. She let out a little moan when I had found it. Pretty soon I felt something ping against my right arm, was that? Another stream hit me square in the abdomen; I let out a moan and called my wife a good-girl. I just kept working it, for what seemed like hours (because it literally was), all the while encouraging her and begging her to give it all up to me. Her juices were randomly flying off in all directions like she had a small water-gun hidden in her snatch. I eventually pulled the vibe out to work her clit while I gave my fingers another shot. By this point my wife had lost track of how many orgasms she had already had, they seemed to be running in to each-other where she never really knew where the last one ended and the next one started. I finished her off with a glorious gush that brought tears to her eyes and filled up the palm of my hand with an adorable little puddle…

If you really want to make a woman your slave, you need to give her a night like this every once in a while, one for the ages, multiple orgasms of every different type, hours of constant action, pushed over-the-edge into an oblivion of pleasure, and you will absolutely own them. My wife readily admits that I own her, but usually only when questioned. Even her modest and downplayed descriptions contained things like ‘all-time’ and ‘amazing’. Take notes fellas; this is what women really want, not just my woman, all women. Go ahead and ask them…

We’ve actually gone through several different toys searching for the best one to pop her with. There have been some more successes here and there, I still dodge (towards) the occasional water-pistol shot with a vibrator, and bring on gushes when my dick gets up in the right spot but I’ve yet to truly master her g-spot consistently. So I guess we still have some things to work towards. But daddy just can’t stop until I can make it submit to my will(note: I have fully mastered it now).

I’ve been doing that a lot lately, beating things into submission. Any man who has ever really fucked a woman properly can tell you that there comes this point when the pussy just gives in. It opens-up, gets all wet and squishy and seems to pull in everything around it. You know it by feel, and when you feel it you know you’ve worked it right. I live for moments like that. You can similarly get the ass to submit, and I live for that shit even more. Although when you beat the pussy into submission it really signifies that your woman is satisfied and probably done, it seems like that’s when I really go to work. One of the benefits of owning the pussy however is that she never even tries to tell me to stop; I do stop of my own volition if things go too long to avoid hurting her (I am a nice daddy), but she holds up her end of the bargain and sincerely submits to her daddy, and I love her to death for it…

My life is completely out of control now, I feel like a drug addict, hooked on the ecstasy that my mommy gives me. My mind is constantly on my last high or scheming on my next fix. It’s starting to really be like a drug, like a sketched-out meth-head, I just mindlessly and robotically keep fucking my girl, obsessively thrusting my dick at whatever my wife throws at me (and she throws it all). My balls went from mildly annoyed with me, to exhausted, and into full-on-revolt. They seriously ache from me just writing this paragraph. My mommy had even forcibly milked out of my prostate even the last of the pitifully small reserves into her mouth, draining them faster than they could recover. It doesn’t make me any less of a man to admit that it took my mommy 28 days to break them completely. And the glowing smirk on her face when I admitted to her that I couldn’t keep up anymore is, now that I think about it, very much worthy of a serious spanking…

My soldiers died a heroic death though; worthy of the songs of minstrels, loading up the cannons for one last glorious volley even as the battery was on fire around them and the enemy was closing in, during my all-time greatest anal session with any woman. Up to this point I suppose the area that had seen the least progress was my wife’s ass-training. I mean, I plugged it and fingered it and fucked it with varying degrees of success, but my wife would say that I was to blame; I was taking it too slow. I wasn’t taking enough time to get her warmed-up. And while she may never tell me to stop fucking her pussy, for safety reasons, I allow her veto power over her ass, and more often than not she tapped-out before I could really get going and I would take my frustration out on her pussy…

The first time I finally got it in all the way was comically interrupted by my oldest child coming into our bedroom, thankfully it just looked like we were lying in bed together, but both me and my wife knew that under the covers my cock was fully up her ass. My daughter was scared, having been recently warned of a child-rapist on the loose. My wife calmly answered (still with my dick in her) that there were no bad-men around and that she should go back to sleep. I had to hide my blush as I thought that the truth was more accurately that there were no perverts of that particular kind around but daddy really is just a different kind of bad-man…

I was hardly in any position to be dissatisfied, I had already gone lengthy stretches without anal before and I was getting so much of everything else I desired. I was the farthest thing from disgruntled (is gruntled even a word?), but it was starting to become a sore-spot for both of us. I had been teasing her that my ass was taking more then hers (though it really wasn’t), she was egging me on by talking about past lovers that had ass-fucked her good. The problem wasn’t desire, it’s probably my biggest turn-on, and to my surprise, my wife seemed to want it even more than me. I only started to fully realize the scope of this undertaking when I noticed that the ‘expert’ sized butt-plugs in the store are still several inches shorter than my dick. It takes not just a special woman, but also one with the right experience and in the right frame of mind. The stars have to line up just right for the magic to happen…

The stars finally lined up on a random Sunday night. Oddly enough we had been having a discussion about hurt-feelings and miscommunications. She was hurt by a dirty-talk fail of mine. Here’s a good tip; don’t ever, even in a roundabout fashion, bring up anything that might invoke your mistress when you are fucking your wife. I was also not pleased with her attempt to insult my manhood by talking about other men. We worked it all out, but somehow she kept steering the discussion back to anal. I guess her challenge had done its job, because I had made up my mind that my wife was getting ass-fucked properly that night…

No sooner had we put the kids to bed and finished up an obligatory (yet always amazing) feeding session, when I got to serious work. I had already made sure that the lube was handy, and I purposefully switched sides of the bed to my strong-arm side. She was lying comfortably on her side as I subtly lubed up two fingers. I slipped them in slowly, pausing here and there, giving her time to adjust. I began to slowly wiggle the tips of my fingers, much like when my mommy works my prostate, adding more curl, slowly separating them, pushing in deeper. At one point I was even sort of doing some kind of around the world motion. I worked it whatever way I could. She was moaning enough now that two thoughts came to mind, firstly that she was ready, and secondly that the ball-gag around my neck was probably best suited for her since she was going to wake the kids…

The fact is that even my two longest fingers are also several inches shorter than my dick, so getting-in is largely an exercise in patience. My wife was definitely not in the mood for patience though, and rose up on her knees and threw it back hard on my dick, gasps and moans could be heard from both sides, hers caused by intensity and mine because my good girl takes it like a champ. I started fucking her slowly, but it wasn’t long before she was begging her daddy to fuck her hard, I wasn’t giving in yet though…

The most amazing thing happened; I had pushed her down from her knees and was on-top of her, pinning her down with my body, restraining her with my arms. I’m no MMA fighter, but this is my kind of ground and pound. I was nibbling on her earlobe and whispering sweet-nothings like ‘take this dick’. I happened to be staring right into her eyes as she again begged me to fuck her hard, I could see it, I could feel it, I knew without a doubt that she actually meant it. This wasn’t some porn-star faking it; this was the woman I love, the mother of my children, truly begging me to fuck her ass as hard as I could (both of us knowing how hard that is). It was one of those glorious ass-submission moments I had mentioned living for earlier…

I stopped holding back and really had my way with her. The sounds that were coming out of both of us were pure sex, impossible to mistake for anything else. It was a magnificent blur of urgent and sexy demands on all sides, the kind of pure unbridled ass-fucking that I’d only ever experienced once in my life before(also with my wife). I came to a world-shattering finish balls-deep in her, commanding her to take my load in her ass in a voice loud enough that I immediately dreaded having to explain what any of those things are to my children…

Aside from a quick argument about who should be thanking whom there wasn’t much to be said. It was written all-over our faces, when you’ve experienced something truly extraordinary together with someone there is just a look and a feeling. It was so amazing that even still I can’t think about it without unconsciously moaning and thrusting my growing-dick at the air in front of me. Like I seriously look like a crazed-pervert sometimes (maybe because now I am)…

Things have only gotten crazier for me since then; here I am supposed to own her (and I fucking do), but she damn-sure owns me as well. She owns it all, my heart, my soul, my dick and even my ass, and I am positive that is what she set out to do from the start. Well played mommy, I knew there was nothing I needed to teach her. I probably am the luckiest man in the world…

4 Comments Add yours

  1. Nurse says:

    So many things here to wrap my head around but such great things. Growth, love, lust, etc. It’s interesting how, as a switch, I see nothing of any s side here but all the D… both D’s….. I’m married to a switch and I’m a switch. This sex you talk about if so familiar to me. Not only in the DD/lg, M/lb, D/lg, etc, but there’s an ebb and flow to it that’s just amazing. I liked reading your journey. Well done.

    Like

    1. Philoveritas79 says:

      We have discovered recently that my wife does have a switch side to her, but in the grand scheme of things 99% of the time, I top and she bottoms, we don’t feel the need to overly conform to strict roles though, our dynamic is our own and we’re ok with that…

      Like

      1. Nurse says:

        And that’s all that matters. I don’t believe in labels. Fuck, if it feels good- do it. But I do think that having labels is easier for the public to understand and for readers to understand. So I get the use of it. But in either case you guys have a good blog

        Liked by 1 person

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