I haven’t had sex in two weeks (and then some). I know people who have gone for longer, but I don’t like to, especially since my libido has been off the charts since October. But recently we have been very limited due to a rash Henri incurred. He has very sensitive skin and any change in activity or temperature, sometimes even stress, will cause a small break out. Only now it has affected his nether regions, thus making it difficult for us to have sex. He went to the doctor and got some cream to help, but the doctor suggested no sex for at least two to three weeks.
It was like getting a death sentence from where I was sitting.
I couldn’t have sex with my husband or anyone else. The doctor was explicit in stating that neither of us have sex; seeing as we live and sleep together, it is not impossible for me to get the rash. I am living in a crawly, itchy, reddened nightmare and the only thing I can do right now is wait…
But I’m not that patient.
I feel just fine, no irritation and Henri had stated that he feels so much better compared to last week. That was all I needed. I told him to meet me in tub, we would shower together tonight. I left the night-light on, the only light in the room, and made sure the water was nice and hot, but not scalding. I stood inside by myself for a few minutes before he joined me and stepped aside so he can enjoy all the warmth to himself. I pressed up behind him, breasts to back, my hands caressing the sides of his arms while the water veined in streams throughout his body. His skin prickled immediately. I love to cause his goose bumps; it is a signal of relaxation and enjoyment.
I moved from behind him, and grabbed his favorite bar of soap (some oatmeal and vanilla mix he bought at a specialty shop) and began to wash him. Beginning at his shoulders I move downward, scrubbing under arms, stomach, and fingers; moving lower I squatted down, hinging on the balls of my feet. White frothy soap quickly entailed the tiny pubic hairs on his crotch as I fixated solely on his fleshy friend. I couldn’t help it; I thought I would be able to finish washing him and come back to it afterward, but once I was there, it held my gaze, and I felt my cunt contract with the longing of him. I pulled and stretched him, feeling him grow harder in my grasp, my hand always re-lathering, slipping over and under his groin, nurturing his balls as well.
He was rock hard. So I stopped and opened the bathroom curtain, reached into my towel on the sink and pulled out my concealed vibrator.
“Soap up your hands and finger fuck my ass.” I told him, which I had to repeat twice because either he thought he heard wrong or he really couldn’t hear me. I turned on my pink Rabbit and teased my clit with it, taking the head of the silicone cock and pressing, but not entering, while he finger fucked my ass. Right here, I can’t help myself. I want to stand there and enjoy this, but I needed a dick inside me, anywhere. And though I’m not against anal sex, I’m also not a big fan. I figured the finger fucking would open me up and make it easier; but my sick mind was working in unison with my vagina, and less than a minute after holding my Rabbit, I placed it on the edge of the tub and told Henri
“Please fuck my ass.” He lathered up his hardened appendage and I turned to face the tiled wall. I placed my hands on the wall, and arched my ass as far as I could go, standing on the tips of my toes. He found his way at the opening of my ass and pushed his head in, little by little. I shouted a bit, slapping the wall with my hand. It hurt. But I wanted it. I thought I was going crazy. It stung a bit, I felt the head stretching me, opening me up more than I thought I was comfortable with. Henri stopped, a bit fearful by the wall hitting and yelping. I grabbed the soap and lathered him up, more soapy suds emerging between my fingers. I held onto the bar, just in case, and assumed the position again. He entered me and this time was much better than the first. I moved my hips in circles, helping him go a bit deeper at a time. I kept my hands above my head, my nipples swiping the cold beige tiles; it was a delectable feeling, and when I told Henri to pinch them, my hips gyrate more, my moans increasing an octave.
“Punish me baby….please hurt me!” It did hurt; but the pain would ebb its way into pleasure, causing me to push into him more and more, his dick almost fully inside. He made long strokes, momentarily holding on, until his dick was all the way in. I began to move my body on his cock, and then we swayed together. I fell into step, a writhing passion in me that I usually released by screaming, scratching, or grabbing onto sheets. But there was nothing to grab onto in this position, at this location, and the soap in my hand was already taking the brunt of my unbridled distress, my fingers carved into it. The only other way of release for me is through words:
You love fucking this slut baby?
I’m your fucking slut! This is your asshole.
Please fill it with cum? Fill me please!
It’s hurts so good baby.
Cum in this fucking ass Daddy!
I wish I could say that I over exaggerate, or that I say these things to make him feel good. But that is not the case; I honestly say these things because this is what is running through my mind, and in moments of ecstasy as this one, I can not control it unless I physically hold my hands over my mouth. Whether it assists in the act or not, Henri has never complained, and in moments I can feel his stroke slow to a stop and his hands dig into my hips, as he buckles slightly. I feel the pressure still at my anus, now covered with his sweet milk.
He unfortunately was in a bit of pain. His dick was very sensitive and a bit sore.
“It’s both a blessing and a curse to marry a woman who will fuck you until your dick falls off,” he said, putting some cream on it. I laughed and washed myself off, completely surprised to feel my pussy so slick with my wetness. And still feeling the aftershock of our anal fucking, I was not through.
I beat Henri to the bedroom, only for him to find me splayed out on the bed, Rabbit buzzing away between my swelling cunt.
“Fuck my ass some more please…”
He laid down beside me, pinching a nipple and smacking it, his hand only hitting the hardened nipple.
“You want more you little slut? You like when I train this ass?”
He placed one finger, but I asked for more. Two fingers and I arched my back unto them. Three fingers and I heard a rumble in my brain. My body reacted and I again moved against him, fucking his fingers. My legs shook, and I couldn’t feel anything for a few seconds. And then the sensitivity hit. My veins were electrified, a synaptic ricochet occurring in the confines of my bones.
Henri left the room and I masturbated again.
This is my opiate. I need this. I am desperately addicted. How am I going to go another two weeks?