married sex

We’ve been married a while – we’ve had our tenth anniversary but not our fifteenth. My husband says it just keeps getting better. I think it’s been great but that it has been same-ish for a while. Great, no complaints, or, almost none. We just keep making it up as we go along.



For instance, we make up rules and try to stick to them – garbage, dishwasher, stuff like that. Doesn’t everybody do that?



My favorite rules are about sex. Rule eleven is that neither of us can deny the other twice in a row. The first time, you have a choice. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.



But.



That wonderful ‘but’. I think we love rule eleven. Either of us can create a wonderful sexual tension either by asking when you know the answer is ‘No’, or by answering, “No” when the other thinks you’re going to say “Yes”.



Of course, both of us have agreed to sex the first time just to avoid invoking rule eleven. Sometimes it’s simpler just to go ahead. It’s a lot easier with me, since I can make him come really quick when I want to – men are so easy, aren’t they? He has a lot harder time since I’m more of a challenge. I don’t hold back as that would be unfair, but he has to get me in the mood if he’s going to put me over the edge.



Getting me in the mood can take a while or some effort, depending on how I feel when he starts.



Oh, I see that I forgot to explain the subtext of rule eleven. When you ask for sex, if you get your wish, you have to take the other to orgasm. All the way. Over the top. The little death. Okay.



Anyway, last night I was watching TV. I don’t have that many programs but this one was one of my favorites and I forgot to set the DVR and I was right in the middle, so I’m focused, okay?



“Hey, baby, I need you.”



“What?” I wasn’t really paying attention. There was some bomb and the heroine had just decided she really did love….



“I need you. Right now.” He’s standing by the door to the hallway to the bedroom, his arousal quite obvious given all he was wearing was his pajama bottoms. I love the little bit of hair on his chest – it’s so dark and mysterious.



“I don’t think so – I’m right in the middle of this. Did you feed the bird?”



“Yes, but I want to kiss you, right now, on the lips and …”



“GO AWAY. Not now, okay, I’m concentrating…”



He’s shifting from foot to foot, impatiently, his tent pole wiggling the pjs, his biceps all manly and his shoulders so broad. His butt’s a little big, but that just gives me something to hold on to when he’s on top. He really is a wonderful lover, most of the time, and I’ve taught him exactly how I like him to kiss me and, thank God, he doesn’t always do it like I like, and my favorite is when he….



“Oh, OK, but you just invoked rule eleven!” He stomps off, smiling.



That bastard (the one I love)! Is this what he wanted? I go back to my program. She put the bomb in the evil twins’ car trunk and managed to kiss the one she might be in love with and to let the one she really loved see her ass as she bent over to retrieve her gun and, you know, it’ll be on next week, anyway.



Teach me to remember to set the DVR. Damned TV.



So I get up and go to finish cleaning the kitchen but he’s already put everything away. I’ll never find anything but it was sweet since it was my turn to clean up. He cooked and it was wonderful and I think about how easy he is to live with in some ways (not every way, though.) There was laundry to finish and I had to finish my email and next thing I know, it’s time for bed.



I forgot all about rule eleven.



He was asleep when I passed through the bedroom to the bathroom. I paused just a second to look at him. They look like little boys when they’re asleep, don’t they? He’s so cute when he’s not trying to be anything. Just himself. I took him in, all of him, and shivered, just a little, then went into the bathroom.



I pulled off my top and threw it in the hamper. I washed my face, noticing a few lines that weren’t there last time I looked, and put some special super-duper cream on to make them go away. I pinned my hair back, looking for any gray peeking through, and quit looking soon enough to be sure I didn’t find any.



I unfastened my bra and let my breasts free. Damn, that feels good. They don’t sag too much, yet, anyway and still look almost like when I was twenty (forget sixteen – I just don’t’ think about it anymore, unless I’m drunk). I rely on him to keep my morale up, there – he is totally infatuated with ‘the Ladies’ as he calls them. He will fondle them as long as I let him, and kiss them, starting on my chest just above, loving the edge where they start, then licking and sucking all over, licking the underside and the crease where they stop, slurping me all slobbery and finally sucking my nipple in, first the one, then the other. I’m not coaching him or anything, the man loves his breasts and I’ve learned to appreciate his reptilian brain when it lets loose. I surrender to the pure sensation and throw my arms over my head and let him play.



It puts me in the mood.



They’re not big enough for me to kiss, so I pat them lovingly and add a little moisturizer to put help them sleep. I remain topless and drop my pants.



My legs.



Oh, my legs.



I think they could be a little more skinny, but nature wouldn’t have it that way. He loves them just the way they are and we’re always arguing (discussing) whether I should wear a dress or a skirt (his preference) or pants (my preference). He loves it when I wear hose and heels and always wants me to keep them on when we get home, etc, etc. and not to take them off when he gets etc, etc.



I indulge him in this. It’s pretty sexy that he loves that part of me and it doesn’t hurt to keep things around that help me keep the upper hand. I get a nice massage from time to time and who doesn’t like their feet rubbed thoroughly and lovingly? He doesn’t mind a pedicure every now and then, either. Like I said, men are easy.



I rub some lotion on them, too, (still smooth, nice) and drop my panties in the hamper. I pull on a nightgown from the back of the bathroom door and give my hair a quick brush, then brush my teeth. Ready for bed. I’m getting so sleepy and it’s not quite midnight.



I turn off the lights and snuggle in next to the softly snoring form in my bed. I curl up in my special spot and place his hand on my arm just the way I like it. In two minutes, I’m asleep. That’s thanks to my exercise class.



I wake up when he runs his hand up under my nightgown. His hands stroke my belly on the way up but there’s no doubt as to his target.



I put my hand on his arm, “Hey, I’m almost asleep!”



He puts his other hand up to my face and touches my lips softly with one finger, “Shhhhh!”



I hush and he makes two marks on my cheek with the finger. Eleven.



Ohhhh, shit.



I raise my arms over my head in surrender. It’s dark so I can’t see his smile. He loves it when I submit to him. I’m sleepy, so it kind of fits my mood and come on, it seems so female to just … let … him.



His breast play gets him excited in a hurry. He pulls one of my hands down to feel his erection. It’s like a bar of steel. He cups my fingers around it and moves my hand up and down, up and down. He lets go but I know he expects me to keep rubbing it.



He turns upside-down in the bed and pushes me on my side away from him. His hands part the cheeks of my bottom and he begins kissing my bottom. I would never (well, not ‘never’) start him off there, but it actually feels kind of nice, particularly when a finger begins circling my pussy. I rub his cock head, getting my hand slick with pre-cum, and squeeze it more firmly as I jack it back and forth, back and…



His tongue gets all saucy and starts forcing it’s way into my bottom. In and out, in and out, he fucks my ass and wiggles his tongue inside me. How is it so long? That finger still keeps it’s rhythm, circling, circling, bumping my clit on each round. Over, and over, and over.



I moan and thrust my hips toward the finger. The tongue slips out and I wriggle back that way to get it back in. The finger is pissed because I pulled away and he presses it back to my pussy, missing the edge and burying it deep inside me. I gasp and now I’m trapped between the tongue and the finger. My thrusts become more vigorous and he has me with two hands, pulling me to his mouth, one finger wiggling inside me, one finger caressing my clitoris just the way I taught … him … but there’s that tongue … in …out… wiggle, oh, my….



I come, gushing my pleasure all over him. It really is spectacular, the spasms everywhere, bouncing around. I let go of his cock in time, since I’d have squeezed a dent in it if I didn’t. My pussy is soaking wet, and feels so hot.



He reverses his position and I feel his cock thrust into me. He’s thoroughly aroused, out of control and he gives me the monkey-fuck of my life. He is an animal, totally out of control, fucking me down into the bed over and over and over. I grab his butt and squeeze with my fingernails and he screams, buries himself in me, and shoots me full. He moans every time I feel his cock squirt inside me. It seems to go on for quite a while.



He kisses my neck, lovingly, sweetly, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”



I rub the back of his head, “Why are you sorry? That was great.”



“I didn’t put a rubber on…”



“It’s okay, I’m already pregnant.”



“Oh, good.”



We fall asleep all tangled and nasty. I shove over until I’m out of the wet spot.



He’ll realize what I said when he wakes up.



We can talk about it, then.

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