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“You’re sure you never have?”
“I mean, not even a little touching when you were a young girl? Or maybe some time when you were half asleep?”
I was having a difficult time believing that my wife of seventeen years had never masturbated. “You know, I do it all the time.”
“I guessed as much. But it’s different for you–you’re a guy.”
“Why is it different?”
“Guys are…well, so horny.”
“You don’t get horny?”
“And…what do you do?”
“Try to think about something else, at least until you get home.”
“And when I’m on a business trip, gone all week?”
“Hmmph,” she sighed. “It’s difficult.”
“If I’m horny I can’t get to sleep.”
“So how often–“
“Three, four times a week.”
“Oh my God! But…where? When? I’ve never noticed you–“
“It’s easiest if I go to bed before you. A couple times you have walked in on me.”
“Really? Honest, I had no idea.”
“Remember climbing into bed and wondering how the towel got under the covers?”
“Oh yeah! I thought it just got tangled up in the sheets when I did the laundry. You mean you used it to–“
“Yep. Makes clean up nice and easy.”
“Hmm. And what do you think about when you do it?”
The topic of sex, especially sexual fantasies, had been taboo in our relationship, so I was treading on some unfamiliar territory. “I’m not sure I should tell you.”
“No, really. I want to know.”
“OK. Sometimes something I’ve seen or read. A sexy scene from a movie, a piece of erotic literature from the ‘net.” The thought of sharing this with my wife elicited a tingle in my groin.
“So you do surf the ‘net for porn.”
“Porn? Not really. Having easy access to it has taught me that I don’t really care for porn. Something about people getting paid to do it is a real turnoff. I do like amateur stuff, though. There’s a couple of websites where women send in nude photos of themselves. The fact that a woman is so secure in her sexuality and so comfortable with her body is a big turn on.”
“Plus they’re not all plastic-looking women with fake boobs. It’s more the ‘girl-next-door” type, which I’ve always been more attracted to.”
“Well, I guess that makes me feel a little better.”
My wife–while very attractive–isn’t exactly what you’d call glamorous or overtly sexual. That’s one of the things that attracted me to her in the first place. “All kinds of women post. Young, old, thin, plump…you name it.”
“And that’s all you need to, uh…get off? Pictures of some naked women?”
“Ummm…sometimes I’ll use a…prop.”
“A prop? Like what?”
“Have you ever noticed ataşehir escort bayan a little stain on one of your bras?”
“My bras! Oh my God!”
“I don’t use clean ones. I’ll pull one out of the hamper. They smell like you, and I think about where that bra has been all day. And the feel–especially the lacy and silky ones–is wonderful.” I looked down at my wife’s generous breasts and my erection grew a little more. She responded by folding her arms over her chest. I decided to elevate the discussion a bit. “How does that make you feel? The thought that when I’m doing it, I’m thinking about you?”
“Good, I guess.”
“Maybe just a little horny?”
“OK, let’s picture a little role play. You know how we play our little ‘sex slave’ game sometimes?”
“Yeah,” she giggled.
“So you make me your sex slave. You tease me all day long and get me so horny that I’m ready to explode. But you say I have to make myself cum. I strip down and start stroking while you watch. You’re wearing that leather bra, and you reach around and unhook it, letting the straps fall off your shoulders. You’re driving me crazy. You slowly lower it to reveal one nipple, then the other one, and finally you expose your whole breasts. My eyes are glued to your beautiful breasts and it sends me over the edge. I start to cum, and I spurt stream after stream of cum all over your breasts. Would you like that? To watch me?”
My wife squirmed a little on the couch. “Uh…yeah, I guess so.”
“And then you could do the same for me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’d feel so self conscious about you watching me.”
“I have an idea. There’s a scene in a Nicholas Baker novel that I’ve always loved. He tells a woman he works with that it’s always been his fantasy to watch her masturbate. And he asks her to fulfill his fantasy. But she’s covered by a blanket the whole time, so all he can see is her face. Would you be willing to help me fulfill my fantasy like that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, hon.”
“Oh, come on. If you don’t like it, we won’t do it again. You know how we’ve talked about trying new things to spice up our sex life? This would really turn me on.”
“Well, alright. But I’m not sure I can do it…you know, make myself, uh…cum.”
I wanted to set things up as close as possible to what I remembered of the scene in the book. I told Carol I would be out for a little while to pick up a few things. I went to the video store and picked up one of those soft-core porno movies. She always objected to porn, but I thought she wouldn’t mind a movie that was a little less graphic. When I returned home, she had changed into a skirt just like I asked.
“Are escort kadıköy you ready?
“I guess I’m willing to try. What did you get when you were out?”
“Just a movie.”
“Not porn. I won’t watch that.”
“I think you might like this. It’s not really porn. Just kind of erotic.” I told her to sit on the couch and went to get a couple blankets from the hall closet. I covered her up to her neck with one of the blankets and popped the tape in the VCR before sitting at the other end of the couch and pulling the other blanket up to my neck. I was a little nervous as the movie started. I hoped that it wouldn’t totally turn her off. And to my pleasant surprise, porno movies had improved a bit from my bachelor days. The acting was a little better than cardboard, and there was some semblance of plot. “When you see something you like, something you think is sexy, go ahead and start. And remember, all I can see is your face.”
Carol watched the movie intently for a while as the plot (such that it was) developed. “It’s not exactly ‘Gone With the Wind,” She said. The scene showed a house painter up on a ladder while inside the housewife ran around in very little clothing. The voiceover shared her thoughts as she wondered if the hunky housepainter could peek in the window. As the housewife became more daring and exposed her breasts with the painter just outside the window, I heard a rustling sound from the other end of the couch. I turned to see Carol lift her panties from under the blanket and lay them on next to me on the couch.
“So, you like this?” I asked.
“It has some merit,” she replied.
I detected some tentative motion in her right arm as she continued to watch the movie. The housewife’s voiceover told us that she was getting more and more bold. She put her flimsy top back on and walked outside to look up at the house painter from the bottom of the ladder. The housewife was sure he could see right down her top as she told him to knock on the door if her needed a cold drink. The housewife went back inside and took all of her clothes off with the painter’s feet visible on the ladder just outside the window. She jumped into the shower for a very sexy rubdown with plenty of soap bubbles. I looked over at Carol to see that the motion in her right arm had picked up in both speed and intensity. The housewife dried off and left her lower half covered as she stood in the hallway and watched the painter’s feet. She waited for several minutes before the painter climbed down, and she timed the descent perfectly. She passed by the open front door just as the painter approached. The housewife feigned surprised as the painter peered through the storm door at her bared bostancı escort breasts.
Carol was apparently enjoying the on-screen exhibition, and her right arm now furiously stroked away, her hips thrusting to meet it. The look on her face was priceless; she bit her lower lip while her eyes stared at the screen in intense concentration.
“You DO like this,” I said.
“Mmm hmm,” was all she could mumble.
“Let me see your hand now; I want to see how wet you are.” The motion in her right arm stopped and she lifted her hand from the blanket to show me two fingers drenched in her juices. “You look great, hon,” I said, before she returned her hand and continued to watch the movie. With the housewife and the house painter on screen now engaged in an erotic coupling, my wife began to moan softly. I slipped my jeans and shorts off and began to stroke my now rock-hard cock, watching the wonderful expressions on my wife’s face the whole time. Carol’s soft moans elevated to guttural groans, and I began to vocalize in response. Her eyes finally left the screen and turned to look at me, my left arm hammering away at my stiff dick beneath the blanket.
“Oh God!” she shouted. “You’re…you’re…”
“I’m jackin’ off watchin’ you, babe. You look so incredibly hot.”
“Ooooohhhh!” She cried.
“Are you close?”
“Yeeeesss! But you first! I want to watch you cum…now!”
That was all it took for me. I slid my hand to the base of my cock and grabbed my balls as I spurted jets of cum all over the blanket. Watching me cum was enough to send Carol over the edge, and I watched enthralled as her face contorted in ecstasy, her arm stroking and hips thrusting furiously. She threw the blanket off and I could see her skirt bunched up at her hips, her fingers stroking away on her clit.
“I want you to watch! Look at my pussy! Watch me fuck myself! Mmmm. Yes! Yes! Show me your cock! I want to see it covered in all that cum you spurted!”
I lifted the blanket and exposed my still-stiff cock. It was indeed covered in cum, several rivulets dripping down the side.
“I did that! I made you cum just from watching me!”
“Yes you did, babe.”
“Oh God, yes!” she shouted as she slipped two fingers of her left hand deep inside her pussy, using a finger on her right hand to furiously massage her clit. “Are you watching me play with my pussy? Watching me fuck myself?”
“Your pussy is beautiful. You are soaking wet, and your fingers are covered in your juices. Cum for me, baby! Fuck your pussy for me!”
My words sent Carol over the edge and she exploded in a screaming orgasm before collapsing back on the couch.
It was several minutes before we had recovered enough to notice the housewife on the screen was engaged in her own orgiastic ecstasy. I grabbed the remote to stop the tape, but was interrupted by my wife.
“Wait,” she said, her wet pussy still exposed beneath her skirt. “I want to see how it ends.”
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