My spouse washed some fruit for me and put it in a bowl. Raspberries, blackberries, and strawberries, fresh from the farmers market. Yum! But it was too much. I ate them in order of how much I like them, saving the best for last. First I ate all the blackberries, dark and plump. Then the
Hello, I’ve been thinking about how my vulva smells. The smells can be informative, appealing, embarrassing, delicious. yesterday I was lying in bed in the early morning. My vulva felt extra wet. Why was that? My spouse and I had not had sex the night before. Maybe I was ovulating. My cervix had been sore
“I wanna put my dick inside of you,” my spouse said to me. We were in bed, and he was very horny. “Why do you wanna do that?” I asked. “To see if it still fits?” “Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to put it in all the way, and see if it still fits. And
“Tell me you want to be kind to my body,” I told my spouse. “I want to be kind to your body,” he said. “Tell it to me…provocatively,” I said. “I want to be kind to your body,” he said slower, with a smile. Yes, this is love, shared kindness for a long time. curious
Lately my spouse has been fucking me daily. But today I wanted to give him a blow job. Strange how different it can feel each time, the same act with the same person. Moods, needs, feelings, health, energy level, and desires all fluctuate. Then when we meet in bed to do the deed, the alchemy
“Tell me you want your dick sucked,” I told my spouse. We were in bed, naked and close, and his dick was in my hand. “I want my dick sucked,” he said. “Tell me you want your dick sucked,” I repeated. “I want my dick sucked,” he repeated, with a little more emotion. Feels good
Lately we have sex every day after lunch. It’s been a month or so like that. Rarely there’s a reason we have to do it later. This reliable date is comforting and good for my mental health and my spouse’s also. There’s nothing to consider, just joyful siesta. We refer to it as post-lunch, post-lunch
We checked into an old hotel. I noticed our bed had a mirror on the ceiling, over it. It was octagonal and quite a surprise. Immediately I began singing in my head the Eagle’s song Hotel California that says “mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice.” This song is about a creepy decadent
“Does your dick need comfort?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. “Dicks have to do a lot of work,” I said. I grabbed his dick, as he pulled down his chonies. “Getting big and small over and over again, all day. Dang. Exhausting!” “Right!” my spouse said. “And you have to be enthusiastic, but not too
“I want you to tell me it’s after lunch, so it’s time for me to suck your dick. Whether I want it or not,” I said. More sex helps me. “Would you do that for me?” “Yes,” my spouse said “Would you like that?” I asked. “Yes,” my spouse said. “I want to shove my