Experiencing the 1970s: Chapter 8
"I believe," I expressed, smiling towards her, "that I'd want to observe you sometime."
Her eyes broadened at that.
"David," she stated, her eyes expansive, "Honey," and she drew back.
I kept her eyes.
"What else would I like?" I questioned.
Her eyes broadened again, and I observed comprehension there.
"David," she began again, yet didn't continue.
I waited her out.
"David," she instigated once more but then halted.
"I wish to be the first, Monica," I said, "because I understand it's very prevalent amongst this group."
"David," she said again but instead of commencing, she swiftly ascended, headed to the refrigerator, grabbed a Budweiser, placed it on the table, and opened our tiny box in which we stored our cache of marijuana. She took a tremendous gulp from the beer, cautiously filled the homemade pipe, one of my inventions concocted from brass plumbing components, and took a hit, hissing at the smoke as the pleasant burning aroma of fantastic marijuana filled the air.
Another gulp on the beer and another strike on the pipe before she passed the pipe to me.
It's remarkable marijuana and I detected the minor tickling behind my eyes near immediately.
I took a gulp on her beer, chuckling as she swatted my hand.
She concocted breakfast then, navigating the kitchen comfortably even though typically I do breakfast. She appeared enchanting, maneuvering in her T-shirt, her adorable derriere peeking out, her hair still somewhat disheveled, her breasts jiggling under the material. Indeed, my Monica is an alluring sight.
Eventually, she had a short pile of pancakes, two sausage patties, and orange juice before me, to accompany the beer and marijuana.
However, it felt unusual. Monica and I are well-acquainted enough to tolerate companionable silences. But this wasn't "intimate," or "cold," nor "angry." Yet, it wasn't "companionable" either. It was, in fact, "awkward."
Moreover, the issue that perplexed me was, I couldn't discern why. After all, Monica and I have been wedded enough to understand that, according to the proverb, "no means no," and I would respect it.
Nevertheless, I was unable to fathom what was wrong and that exacerbated the strain further.
She gathered up the plates and I attempted to help, but she pressured me back, still silent.
Dishes cleaned, dried, and put away, she arrived at me and took my hands.
She gazed into my eyes for an extended ten-count.
"All right," she declared.
And I genuinely wasn't certain what she meant.
"Huh?" I queried, portraying my instant, ready repartee.
She snickered.
"All right, pervert," she stated, "have me in the ass."
When I declared nothing, she said, "That's what you desire, isn't it?"
"Sit," I instructed.
She somewhat snorted and seated herself.
"Are you sure?" I inquired, "Or is this breakfast beer and marijuana speaking?"
She winked and caressed my hand across the table.
"Well, I'm not quite a virgin," she remarked.
I chuckled, reminiscing about that time, not long after we got married. Of course, newlyweds are susceptible to such occurrences. We were lounging on the bed and watching some pointless sitcom when we became amorous. Naturally, it was me who started it.
Before long, we were embraced, my stomach to her back, the television still going. When I slipped out, I surmised the mishap without realizing it until she began shouting "Take it out, take it out."
I extracted myself hastily, patted her back, kissed her neck, and subsequently slipped back in, vaginally.
Since that instance, I had never even proposed anal sex until, well, in the past half hour.
And now she was saying, "Yes," and it startled me.
She was holding my eyes in that manner I recognized meant she was enthralled.
I consumed another hit on the marijuana pipe, another gulp on the beer, stood, and provided my palm.
"Well, then," I remarked, "bring that attractive derriere along."
She arose and embraced me, kissing me, a highly satisfactory kiss, embracing her body to mine, her palms on my bare glutes causing me to realize I had perhaps forgotten to don any apparel.
"Admittedly," she said, smiling and giggling, "what's good for the goose is good for the gander."
At the memory of what she expressed, I actually acquired an erection.
"Agreement," I said, kissing her back, passionately, reaching down and clasping her derriere with both palms, elevating, dispersing her cheeks, and touching where I would soon be.
In the bedroom, I removed her T-shirt, relishing her body as I had customarily. Her breasts were rather sizable compared to her small frame, but she had somehow managed to avoid pregnancy, resulting in no sag. Her areolas were somewhat diminutive and very pale, her breasts rock hard, and the areolas vanished under them. I found it crucial to kiss them now. [ END ]
She hummed softly. She enjoys her breasts being touched.
Her fingers found my nipples and played with them before kissing and then suckling, biting a little, making me gasp.
We embraced each other like that. We exchanged a quick hundred kisses. We touched one another gently, lightly caressed each other, discovered sensitive spots, and tickled and pinched a bit.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
She smiled then, got down on all fours, got a pillow, doubled it, put it under her hips, and settled down on it. She was posing then, quite enticing, her back arched dramatically and her ass pointing right at the ceiling.
"Yes, Love," she said, smiling, "I feel it's time I grew up."
I chuckled and said, "I'm not sure this makes you a grown-up."
"No, Sweetie," she said, "that first time I was just a girl and I panicked. But I've been told many times that it's wonderful, so I'm ready."
"Alright, then," I said, smiling.
It's interesting, really, but despite Monica and I having a somewhat active love life, and yes, we both like the doggy style position, I'd never really looked at her butt hole before.
If you've never taken the time to look at your spouse's (or your spouse's for that matter) butthole, you definitely should. There's an intimacy about it that is unbeatable. You know what I'm talking about? You see breasts and nipples when you take a woman to bed. You see her vagina, if you're a Missionary Position type or more intimately if you appreciate giving cunnilingus. And you see her ass.
But the anus is always hidden, deeply tucked away in the gluteal cleft, the butt crack. To see it you have to put forth some effort. You need to spread those cheeks and depending on the woman's size, that can be quite simple or quite the undertaking.
Since then, I've heard the anus described as a "rosebud," a "star," that "suckling chute," and probably a dozen other things.
As I placed my hands on Monica's ass and parted those cheeks, I knew why one of those descriptions was "balloon knot."
Monica isn't a particularly hairy girl, but she's not smooth either. When I spread her cheeks the first thing I noticed was a round, perfectly smooth circle with a very darkly stained and puckered balloon knot, with a rather distinct growth of tissue highlighting the image. I wondered if it was some kind of oversized skin tag or maybe a hemorrhoid protruding. It was kind of cute and I leaned down, blew gently, and then licked it, causing her to shiver a little.
Her vagina was glistening with her excitement, her natural lubrication altering from the mucus membranes lining her vagina to a thick milky color as other glands deeper in her body started producing. I brushed my finger upwards, starting at her clitoris making her catch her breath, up her labia getting my finger wetter and slicker as I moved, and then sliding my finger into her anus, stopping at the first knuckle.
"Relax," I said.
She took a deep breath as I remained still, maintaining that pressure, and instructed her to relax.
She shivered and a sudden little gush of that thick white liquid indicated a minor orgasm.
The second time I did it, I used two fingers. By the time I reached her anus, my fingers were coated with that skin lotion she often used.
"Relax," I said, using my left hand to gently massage her lower back, almost caressing.
I could sense the tension.
"Relax," I said once more, just my fingertips now, tickling her lower back.
She breathed deeply and relaxed.
As I sensed the tension leave her body, I pushed my index and middle finger in, their smooth surface generously coated with her natural lubrication, but I felt resistance from those powerful muscles.
"Oh, Jesus," she murmured.
"Relax," I said once more, my fingers deep inside, feeling an amazing warmth inside her rectal vault.
I didn't move my hand, my fingers holding her stretched, but began using my left hand to massage the fullness of her ass.
"I'll quit if you tell me to," I said in my calming-animal voice.
She took a deep breath, slowly inhaling and then exhaling just as slowly.
"No, Darling," she said, "I'm okay."
And I could tell she was. She was completely relaxed.
I took advantage of what we both wanted.
I moved closer to her, guiding myself in and entering her vaginally. I stopped for several seconds, letting her wet excitement surround me and envelop me.
I withdrew, very slowly, feeling how wet and slick I was.
I lined myself up again.
"I love you," I said, and in one smooth movement, I entered her anally.
But it was much more than that.
I glanced down in awe at how distinct her body felt, as I entered her anally. The sphincter muscle's band stretched taut, and as I observed, I noticed her tighten those strong muscles for the first time, completely comprehending the "anal thing" concept.
She started speaking - it seemed unconscious, resembling a religious chant.
"Oh, God, oh, Jesus, oh, Christ," and suddenly, I felt her tense up and wetness on my legs as she reached orgasm.
"Oh, God, oh, Jesus, oh, Christ," and her body clenched again.
"Oh, God, oh, Jesus, oh, Christ," and she came once more. She experienced a true female ejaculation. I felt her splash against my thighs.
"Oh, God, oh, Jesus, oh, Christ," and she shuddered, squeezing so hard it hurt.
She shifted position, now being on all fours, subtly changing angles and pressures.
"Oh, GOD, oh, JESUS, oh, FUCK!" she cried out, coming a fourth time, hard, squirting hot fluid on my thighs.
She altered position again, sitting up, grabbing my hands and guiding them to her breasts, forcing me to pull her back against me, changing angles and pressures once more.
"Oh, GOD, OH SHIT, OH FUCKKKKKK!" she screamed, coming a fifth time. Her forceful ejaculation seemed like she'd lost bladder control.
She maintained this stance, breathing quickly and shallowly, using her hands to force mine to her breasts.
I felt her relax, her breath regaining a more normal pattern, and the tension in her body fading.
When I began thrusting, wanting to finish, she squeezed my hands and stated, "No. No, honey, stay still."
So I stopped.
She held that position for a while, me inside her anally, her back arched to allow me entry, and her hands covering mine.
Finally, she released my hands and said, "Take it out, Honey, please."
I pushed her shoulders gently, guiding her forward, then gradually pulled out, observing a small stain on both of us.
"Are you okay?" I inquired.
"Oh Jesus, yes," she responded, "I heard women talk about that 'extremely full' sensation, but now I understand."
"Was it better?" I asked.
She doubted, thought for a moment, and then said, "Not better, but different and incredibly gratifying."
Then she smiled and stated, "Your turn. On your stomach, Honey."
I complied, moving to the center of the bed and carefully placing my hips on the doubled-up pillow. I nestled my face into my folded hands on the pillow, wiggled my rear, and said, "Ready."
Christ, when she maneuvered so that her knees were between mine, I was on the verge of climaxing just from the anticipation.
And then she began massaging, gently spreading my cheeks, and I experienced air where I've never felt air before.
I couldn't control my hands as they morphed into claws and scratched at the sheets, as her lips touched and tongue explored vulnerable areas.
I felt her finger tip, slick with what I assumed was her natural lubricant, and then slip in just a bit, making the inaudible humming noise equally impossible to hold back.
"Relax," she whispered, softly stroking my upper back.
However, I couldn't relax. Instead, I gripped tighter.
She laughed, gradually advanced forward while her finger remained inside me, and then her mouth was near my ear. "Relax," she whispered again, this time pairing it with her tongue tracing my ear's outline.
I responded by arching my back, and suddenly, she was completely inside me and when her finger pressed against my prostate, I couldn't breathe.
As she stroked my finger, I gasped and trembled.
"Do you like what I'm doing?" she inquired.
"Ah, ah, Jesus, I like what you're doing," I gasped, pushing my hips back, offering more exposure to her.
"What am I doing?" she questioned.
I felt a surge as I realized what she wanted.
She probed and I almost came.
Yet, what's the point? We're alone and enjoying, right? Not able to resist, I came.
She laughed and began moving her finger in and out.
"Not yet," she stated, clearly excited by the situation.
With every finger thrust and prostate stimulation, I gasped and shuddered.
"Tell me you love what I'm doing," she requested.
"Ah, ah, Jesus, I love what you're doing," I gasped, pushing my hips up.
"What am I doing?" she asked again.
I was overwhelmed with this revelation.
She probed and I almost climaxed again.
However, we're here and alone to enjoy ourselves. Moreover, I'm pleased with what's happening. So I climaxed.
She giggled and continued probing.
My dearest, your fingers are pleasuring my behind, stimulating my prostate, and I'm utterly ecstatic.
"Shall I make you cum?" you inquire.
"Oh, please," I beg.
You oblige, pressing my prostate with more vigor this time, not mere teasing touches. The pressure mounts and makes me moan with pleasure. This sensation continues.
It persists and intensifies.
You relent, exerting the pressure once more, and I reach orgasm again. As my prostate and balls contract, it causes a throbbing sensation, which prompts me to exclaim.
I desire to remain close, yet I am unable.
You apply more force, and I climax a third time, groaning loudly due to the extreme strain.
You ease the pressure on my prostate but maintain your finger inside.
"Mouthwatering," you remark, lightly fingering me, causing me to squirm.
"Satiated," you say, repeating the same motion.
"Yes, dear," I assure you, "I adored the experience."
As you begin to withdraw, I squeeze your hand against my will.
You chuckle, extract your finger, and spank my behind.
"Plaything," you tease, swiftly rising from the bed.
I remain motionless, contemplating for a moment. Then, I experience an unexpected urge to defecate.
We've been together long enough that we've lost any sense of bodily modesty surrounding toiletry matters, but upon walking in and spotting you sitting on the toilet, the foul odor hints that you share my dilemma.
I approach and kiss you as you sit.
"Aren't you finished?" I inquire.
You smirk, rise, turn, and look at me before flushing the toilet.
"I was concerned that after our activities, I might have passed a turd approximately two inches in diameter," you share with your choice of vocabulary. Your upbringing in a Catholic school instilled in you more refined grammar and language, so your occasional dips into crude language were always surprising.
I chuckle and sit, then we enthusiastically kiss while I attend to my restroom needs.
In the shower, we follow a routine: washing our faces, hair, and bodies, but we also devote special care to cleaning our rears.
Shampooed and dry, I embrace you and kiss you goodbye, driven off to class with a smile on my face.
Read also:
- Strange and Wild Chapter 2: The High Priestess
- Anu's Merging: A Harmonized Combination
- My delight: Chapter 1
- In Bangalore, overlooking the omission of Trisha
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