direct request

“I need something different,” I told my spouse.  “Something very different.  So I’m going to write down my direct request.”

He was in the mood to please me, even more than usual.

“Ok, sounds great,” he said.

a mood

I had been experiencing intense grief.  I was in a mood, and I needed sexual pleasure on my terms.

Don’t get me wrong.  I enjoy sucking dick and my spouse fucking me daily.  That is heaven, and I never want to take him for granted.  Or take for granted his desire for me, with sweet loyalty, kindness, and care for my well-being as part of it.

I get the best on a daily basis, and my gratitude is endless.  His gentle dommy sex kitten willingness to please is a joy to live with.  But I wanted my breasts touched in a different way.  More the way I touch myself.  He goes for the nipple like a bulldog pup.

Yes, it’s fun to make me that horny, watch me squirm, and get off on my transformation from regular Nest to drooling whore.  I can’t blame anyone for liking that.  Then slipping their dick into one of my holes, to fuck my mouth or cunt, and come inside me.   Or beating off in front of my eyes, then ejaculating on my face or neck or armpit or pubic hair–wherever he likes.

That’s all good for sure.  But this is the direct request of what I ask for.

direct request

Please look at my breasts for a long time.  Tell me they are very pretty and you want to come on them.  See them from various angles.  Then lift them.  Feel their weight.  Sniff them.  Gently touch the areolae.

Then kiss my breasts–the top parts and all the non-nipple areas.  Thank them with words or just with your mouth, for your 11 years of acquaintance with them.  How much they have done for you, as you’ve touched them, sucked on them, watched them jiggle, fucked them, come on them, admired them, and even taken me to radiology appointments for annual mammograms, once I turned 40.  All the love in all the ways.

When others have touched my breasts, you have supported me unconditionally and cherished my freedom.  Even when things went bad, you supported me and let me make my own mistakes.  Your respect is unfathomable.

Like our housemate told me, you are a mensch.  I had to look it up.  Yes, you are of noble character, to emulate.  Watching clueless dudes break my heart, then cleaning up their messes.  Yes, you are the best possible ENM spouse, and I love you.

listen to me beg

Listen to me beg for more, then look into my eyes, a long gaze.  In that moment, I’ll see you as you are  Mortal, aging, brilliant, struggling.  Genius, disabled, tender, enby, made of integrity.  Hot, beautiful, sexy, and destined to die.

Yes, lotsa death on my mind lately.  The fear chases me–fear of your death, mine, everyone’s.  During that moment of gaze, I will dwell in my fear for a moment, with you as you are right now.

Not as you were when we met.  Not as you’ll be at the end.  But this specific, irreplaceable moment of you.

I’ll drink in a lesson of who you are.  Then please hug me, whatever kind of hug you like.

turn over

Then tell me to turn over.  Touch my legs gently from ankle to thigh in long lines, like we used to brush, to help my body process the lymph that was getting stuck.  Touch my back in a circle for some moments, and tell me I’m safe.  Tell me you’re proud of me always, and my mom is proud of me from the other side.

Touch my head gently–pet my hair and the back of my neck.  Then grab the back of my neck pretty hard until I moan.

You know what I’m thinking about: your erection pressing against my lips.  Then the head of your dick pushing into my mouth.  Then the length of it sliding in, hurting my throat how I want to be hurt.  When I gag, you grip the back of my neck harder, and my throat opens wider for you, as little tears form at the corners of my eyes.  My cunt aches with arousal as you shove yourself down my throat again and again. 

Yes, this is how I like being used.  Your hand tight on my neck is some kind of sweet perverse heaven for me.


Then you move your other hand down my back and touch the upper part of my butt lovingly.  You caress me there, and you continue to my ass proper, caressing the curves of my ass cheeks.  Then you begin to hit me there, with soft slaps on the fat.  You’ve never held my neck while spanking me, and it’s almost sensory overload.

Then you start hitting me harder, and I’m so aroused by the combination of feelings that I begin to quiver.  You hit me medium-hard, then back to gentle.  I try to predict how hard the next spank will be, but I can’t.

I shake and moan until you decide I’ve had enough.  You let go of my neck and caress my ass soothingly, noting its cute impact pink.


Then you tell me to turn over again, and you rub your dick on my tits.  The fat curved expanses, the nipples, the edges of my areolae.  Your dick looks so pretty with my tits, nudging them.

Then you rub your dick on my face, especially my lips, cheeks, forehead, third eye, chin.  I feel like you’re marking me.  You push more against my lips, and I want you inside me.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” you say.

I look up at you, and we share another moment of eye contact as you ease the head of your dick into my mouth and slide it into my throat.  I feel the truth of your mortality again, mixed with intense arousal, plus a delicious slutty used feeling.

what I want

You wet your dick in my mouth, fucking me there for just a few thrusts, then pull out.

“What do you want now?” you ask.

“I wanna come,” I say.

You arrange the pillows to support me as I settle in to rub my cunt.

“Touch yourself,” you say.

I’m relaxed and happy.  I reach into my wet slit and feel the swollen, slippery tissue there.  You hold me and lick one of my nipples while touching the other with your hand.

love me

“Do you love me?” I ask as I touch my wet clit.

“Yes, I love you so much,” you say.

“Will you love me for a long time?” I ask.

“Yes, I will love you always,” you say.

“Will I always be special to you?  Even when others are sucking your dick?” I ask.

“You’re always special to me,” you say.  And I believe you.

When I get close to coming, I ask you to hold me tighter.  You feel me thrash around–the arch of my back, the way my head moves from side to side, the wild movements of my limbs.  I try to stay quiet and ride the overwhelming pleasure, happy with you.

dear reader

What do you think of my direct request, dear reader?  It was supposed to be a list but turned into more of a fleshed out fantasy.  So be it.  The bdsm is slight, but the emotions are big.

I’d like to slow down how we have sex and let it heal me a little deeper.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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