SI find her upper regions to be dry, but on a whim I
probe deeper, finding a damper environment, but
only the normal body fluids. My incursion, though,
has brought her out of her dream state, though
she's still not fully awake. Leaving my finger
inside of her for the moment, I reach back up with
my other hand and find her nipple, giving ita good
hard yank. This really wakes her up, though I can
tell by her gasps that she's more turned on than
upset. Another twist of her hard nipple confirms
this, as she moans deep in her throat. But she
still just lays and waits for my next move. She
knows only to do what I tell her.
Before I met Kate, I never would've imagined
treating a woman so roughly. But as we were dating,
during what we now call our courting period, we
came to understand what made the other tick. I told
her that I liked things done a certain way, that I
liked more structure in my life. I'm not compulsive
obsessive, or freakish about things not going my
way. But I'm selfish about my pleasures, and I love
sex in all its forms. But nothing ruins it for me
more than begging or even asking for it.
To my delight, Kate agreed. She too liked a lot of
structure in her life, and often felt bewildered by
the many roles women are forced to play in modern
society. Indeed, a man taking her and using her
only enhanced her pleasure. And the rougher I did
it, the better she liked it. When she yelled
"Harder, harder!" during sex, she really meant it.
In the four years we've been married, we've
explored a whole gamut of sexual expression. Kate
has proven that she has a very high tolerance for
pain. And that the Nineties life we've chosen to
lead is the right one for her. I count myself as
lucky to have found a woman who shares my beliefs,
not to mention one as beautiful and sexy as Kate.
Transferring my attention back to her slit, I
wiggle the finger entrenched in her trench, then
use my other fingers to part her pussy lips. The
moisture's beginning to build, but she's still not
wet enough for my taste. Mind you, I could pull
open her legs and fuck her any time, whether she's
ready or not. Sometimes she's dry as a bone when I
stick my dick inside her. It's just that this time
I'm looking forward to the exquisite pleasure of my
cool cock plunging into a hot, wet pussy.
Without warning, I flick on the reading light
that's attached to the bedpost. Before me lays my
Kate, her hair disheveled, her eyes blinking from
the light, her body tensely anticipating another
brutal incursion. A light sheen of sweat has begun
to gather between her tits, and the area around the
nipple I've been playing with is an ugly red. The
sheer material of the babydoll is pushed up around
her neck. And the g-string is still only partially
undone, hiding more than it reveals. I take it all
in hungrily. My cock hardens even more at the
feeling of control that sweeps me. When her eyes
adjust to the light, she looks at me with
annoyance. I don't know why she's annoyed. At being
awakened at one? At my rough handling of her tits?
At not fucking her right away? I don't care. This
is all about my pleasure.
In response, I grab her boob again, squeezing it
hard in my hand. The soft flesh puckers out between
my fingers, and as I hold and squeeze harder it
balloons upward, forming a knob. Yanking my other
hand from her cunt, I slap it down hard on this
boob knob, spanking it with the palm of my hand.
Kate yelps each time, then moans as I lean over and
take the engorged nipple in my mouth. I can suck on
her nipples for hours on end, and have done so on
many occasions. Kate has orgasmed just from this
stimulation, too, although that's not usually my
primary motive. I lick, nip and chew on her brown
nub, before squeezing as much of her tit into my
mouth as I can. That's another game I play, just
for the heck of it.
Releasing her tit, I watch with satisfaction as it
quickly retakes its former voluptuous shape.
Sometimes, just for fun, I'll have her wear a push-
up bra under a tanktop, and then take her to the
mall or some other crowded place. Then I just watch
the faces of the other men as we parade around.
We've even watched some couples start fighting over
their husband's roving eyes. A Nineties couple
would never fight over that. I can look at, and do,
whatever I want.