Kinky and filthy things that have happened to us, all explicitly told

Month: September 2019

A Love Of Spanking

My husband sat upright on the chaise part of our sofa, and I bent over his knees and upper legs. My 34H tits hung down to the left side of his legs and my hands and elbows rested on the sofa on his left side (keeping my body horizontal). My feet touched the floor on his right, my legs spread so that my weight rested on his upper legs, and so that he had great access to my cunt. My white marble like ass was then proudly sticking up to the right, and his right hand gently stroked my ass cheeks.

The anticipation kills me every time. Just waiting the eternity for that first strike of his hand. I was ready. I wanted to be spanked. I needed to be spanked. This was a recreational spanking, a spanking for fun, not for control or discipline. We both spank each other, and today it is my turn to be spanked. I love the acts of contact, I love the attention my ass gets as he’s spanking me, I love the bright red ass in the mirror, I love my tits swinging in response to each contact and I love the throb that reminds me for many hours of what has happened to my poor defenceless ass. I even love that phrase “my poor defenceless ass”.

I felt his hand leave my ass and then a second later felt the full force of his hand landing on my right cheek. I sometimes count but didn’t this time. I wanted to focus on my ass. He hit his favourite spot, at the bottom on my cheeks in an up and under manoeuvre. The second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth all hit the same spot on alternating cheeks with increasing force. This was the start of the warmup before he moved on to the main event; to the implements he had chosen.

I knew the drill – we’ve done this a lot. I stay in position. If I happen to move by the force of the strike, I have to retake the position as quickly as possible. I need to not say anything other than numbers or to answer a question, and I need to muffle and stifle as much other sound as possible. On no account do I try to protect my ass, either by moving it or with my hands. Once I bend over, he’s totally in charge. He decides how many strokes I get and with what implements.

He got to twenty on each cheek and started rubbing my ass with his hand, a sure-fire signal that I was in for a long spanking. We have found that if he rubs my ass occasionally with the hand or paddle, it means that I can take significantly more strokes. (Most of the time I want a higher number of strokes, even if they are delivered with a less painful implement). The act of rubbing seems to rub the pain across my cheeks, allowing them to take more punishment.

After about 30 seconds of rubbing with his hand, he started again, each stroke as deliberate and forceful as the previous one, each stroke delivered precisely to that same area. I looked across at him and smiled at the concentration on his face. He enjoys spanking me as much as I love being spanked.

To deliver a good spanking is skilful, and over time he’s honed his technique to what gets me going. Slow and deliberate strokes, each delivered with a maximum force are much more effective than quick rhythmic strokes. The slowness gives the effects of the stroke time to take hold, helping to build that fire that denotes a good spanking.

He reached forty strokes with his hand on each cheek and again rubbed at my cheeks, before switching hands and rubbing my cheeks with his left hand and dropping his right hand between my legs to sample how wet my cunt was. He called me a slut because of how sticky a spanking made my cunt and he sucked my wet sticky juices off his fingers, before playing with my cunt for a bit. He wouldn’t let me cum, as if I did, a switch would flick in my head, and I wouldn’t want any more strokes. No, it was in his interest to keep me wet and excited, nearing orgasm but not getting there.

When he thought I’d had my cunt played with enough, he picked up my go to paddle. It is purple satin, with a hard side and a soft side, and the soft side was his next warm up phase.

The feeling of the soft side is different from his hand. It is a more even contact, with the force over a smaller area than the hand. He said my ass was starting to go a nice pink colour. He knew I always want a proper red, and he knew what he had to do.

I glanced up at the big screen on the wall. He had two webcams set up, one pointing at my tits (so that he could watch them swing away in time with each stroke), and another pointing square on to my ass and cunt (so that I could see first-hand how red my ass was without moving off my comfortable position).

The paddle contacted both cheeks at the same time, and we were back to slow deliberate high-power thwacks. He accelerated the paddle head all the way down and stopped its progress only with my poor ass. Twenty of those were followed by a rubbing of my cheeks with the paddle. The caress is different with a paddle too – it is rougher and less sensual – it is almost a warning of strokes yet to come. My ass was starting to sting now, but there was a long way to go before this spanking was completed. Once the thirty seconds is over, he started with the full thwacks again.

The final twenty with the soft side of the paddle led to more left-handed rubbing and right-handed cunt playing. I was very slick by then, and he spent a few minutes getting his hand sticky with my juices, then licking them off. If Victoria was here, her mouth would be licking and sucking at my cunt, but he didn’t want to move me to do so himself.

Once upon a time, that would have been enough of a spanking, but not now. I still have the final part of the warmup to do, twenty thwacks with the hard side, more ass rubbing and another twenty with the hard side. By this time, each strike with the paddle certainly got my attention, and my ass was getting a deeper pink all the time.

He took another chance to scoop my cunt juices out, whilst soothing my ass with his left hand. I knew I’d been spanked, and he judged that I was suitably warmed up, so it was time to start the main event. I was desperate for some cunt relief (but I wasn’t about to get an orgasm) and some ass relief would have been nice (but my poor defenceless ass was going to get more punishment not relief).

I was about to find out what he was going to use on my poor defenceless ass now. It was expecting more painful and more unforgiving. I was breathing quite heavily, a mix of my heightened sexual situation and the anticipation of the working over my ass was about to receive. The anticipation kills me every time.

It’s Like I’m Always On Heat

When I first got with my husband, we had lots of sex. Over our first six months, we fucked an average of twice a day and we didn’t miss a single day over that time. But after that initial euphoria, once life started getting in the way, at certain times in my menstrual cycle I lost interest whilst at others I was insatiable. I would first jump him the day before my period started, expect to be fucked right through my period and then for around a fortnight after, right until I ovulated. Then my desire dropped off a cliff and at the same time, my PMT kept building and building. I was either a slut on heat or a PMTed up bitch.

I used to get so horny during my period that I needed a fuck no matter how much of a mess it made. Luckily for me, he loved it and was never put off by the sight, smell or taste; it was pretty much the only time I wanted him to go down on me, and I wanted his cock in my cunt on my heaviest days several times a day.

We had a good two years of that, but my PMT was getting worse month by month, until finally we had to make a decision. My GP suggested a Mirena coil might help to reduce the PMT, but it would also likely reduce the period and probably reduce how insatiable I was. It was a very hard choice: reduce the PMT, reduce the periods and risk having a lot less sex, or have a mega-PMTed up bitch.

In the end, we chose to have the Mirena. That was how bad it was.

It took the Mirena a number of months to bed in, and there were several consequences: the PMT was massively reduced, which was a relief for both of us. My periods stopped completely, which was lovely, as I hate the whole big panties and sanitary towels thing. My natural panty style at the time was thong, and I loathed having to wear anything else. But with no period meant no period sex. Sometimes things have a high price, and that was it.

The other thing that happened was that my desire for sex reduced overall. I really had to be in the mood, and that made my husband really have to work on me. He did, and we fucked an average of twice a week.

But fundamentally, that isn’t enough for either of us. Sex is a very important part of our relationship, of who we are as a couple. Touch is very important, and even that was slipping away. I would be lying if I said it didn’t start to cause a little friction between us. One night over a bottle of wine, we decided things had to change. But we didn’t really know how.

That night, we did make a first critical decision though. We had both fallen into a rut that we couldn’t be bothered to fuck. So we decided that if one of us wanted a fuck, we would fuck, unless the other one really didn’t want to. We took indifference off the table, and defaulted to fucking unless one of us actively said no. We actually still practice that to this day, and that proved a useful start back then.

Within a few weeks, we were fucking on average every other day, which was a great start, and the more sex I had the more I wanted. I knew my husband liked me being pantyless, and when my husband found out, he always wanted to fuck my brains out. When I went pantyless, it made me feel frisky and I really enjoyed the feeling and the freedom. I didn’t go pantyless that often, and I wondered if I could increase my amount of pantyless time without reducing the effects. So I started increasing my pantyless time, gradually getting to most days, if even for a short while, including most times I went out.

That worked really well. I was more and more frisky, and wanting to be fucked more and more. My husband started checking if I was pantyless, often by putting his hand up my skirt when I was in the car, and he took to making me cum when we were parked somewhere shortly before we arrived at our destination. I loved it, and I never objected to his efforts.

It was around this time that I had started to reliably and slowly lose weight, but my body confidence was still zero. My husband was working on that. He got me to try on more figure hugging clothes, clothes that really showed my curves, clothes that flaunted the tits that were important in him first noticing me, and the dresses I showed an interest in, he bought for me, with me ending up with a number of very shaped dresses that I loved. Banishing unsexy clothes had an effect, so I began wearing stockings and suspenders more, as that always made me feel sexy.

By this point, we were back to fucking daily, and our relationship was much better. I think my husband would have been happy at that, especially as his ability to read me was getting better and better, and therefore so was the sex.

But my mindset was changing. I loved feeling more horny more of the time. I loved how it made me want to fuck again and again.

I decided to up the ante – I decided to go pantyless over that one Christmas as not only a treat for my husband, but to see if the sexy feelings it gave me wore off. They didn’t, and I’ve never worn panties since. Not only that, but over the following months, I also got rid of all sorts of clothes that covered my cunt, like trousers and leggings, and had an excuse to buy more figure hugging dresses and stockings, including thick woollen ones for the cold, and we sourced my proper metal clipped suspenders.

With snow on the ground, thick stockings and my cunt seemingly having an unstoppable source of heat (meaning it never seemed to get cold), I felt incredibly sexy and naughty. It was during this time that we started more regularly fucking multiple times a day, and we both realised that we had more and more appetite for sex, and for interesting sex and kink.

In our early days of exploring kink, it was always a hot and cold thing for me; sometimes, kink was a no-no, as I wasn’t in the mood, and sometimes I was uber-kinky and it was all I wanted to do. But as I had turned into this always horny slut, I was finding I wanted kink more and more, and I wanted to expand kink from being part of a sexual encounter to including little bits of kink into our daily lives. For example, me crouching over his mouth and pissing into it seemed as natural as making the bed, us spanking each other’s asses seemed as natural as doing the gardening and me pegging him with an enormous strap-on seemed as natural as me doing some crocheting.

What I have done (very intentionally) is to do a number of things that make me horny, feel very sexy, and that encourage multiple small bits of kink, all as part of my daily life. This is an attitudinal switch and is over and above our many prolonged sex sessions. I’ve turned myself into a slut who is craving sex and kink all the time, and who is only truly satisfied when I get it. It’s like I’m always on heat, and yet I’m not, because of my Mirena, and I fucking love it!