Monday I posted a blog post about how we had fallen out of our normal sex routine. We were tired and stressed, myself especially. I couldn’t get in the mood; even his masturbation had fallen off its normal routine. We were just weary and sex was so far from our priority.
Irony of ironies, he started sexting me at work that day. Well, at first it was just texts about how he wanted me, but he was respecting my exhaustion level and didn’t want to pressure me in any way to add to my stress. I couldn’t help but smile at his complete concern for me. I told him that I loved that, and I had certainly notice his restraint. Rather than masturbating at night, he was holding me on his chest as we fell asleep together. He never mentioned sex or questioned my complete lack of interest in his body.
I told him that I loved his caring for me, but I kinda wanted to be pursued. Convince me, try to change my mind… in other words, fight for it. In a weird way, I didn’t him to stand aside and wait for me to catch up. I wanted him to fight for it.
This strikes me as rather an insecure, as if I needed him to prove he was still interested in me. I know better, but sometimes old demons of low self esteem come back to haunt you at your darkest times.
As soon as I told him to pursue me, he started sexting me. He turned me on with words, and I felt myself get very wet, anticipating my arrival home.
Some of the sexts:
I want to play with your clit boner.
I’m going to jack off your clit boner like a little cock.
Last week I wanted to get home to relax before going back to work for a couple of hours; I couldn’t even think about that now. All I wanted was him.
I got home and we went almost straight to bed. He started slow, kissing me and cuddling me. He told me he loved me and let his hands wander, complimenting my body. At some point, his hand started to move down my body, slowly. His fingers found my pussy and his middle finger found my clit. My favorite way to orgasm is with my clit, and a handjob is one of my most preferred.
Maybe it was the full month without his hand making me cum. Maybe it was just the dry spell in general. He hit all the right spots. He held me while he made my body twitch and respond to his subtle movements. He held his finger on my clit, not moving, and let me pulse and respond to the tease. He jerked on my clit like he was jacking me off. He told me my clit was so big it might as well be a dick in his fingers. He had three fingers pulling on my clit, making me cry out and beg to cum. On and on until I came screaming.
A minute or two of rest before I started stroking his cock in return. I had played with it while he played with me, but I really wanted him to come. And now I was really cock hungry.
I didn’t waste my time. I pulled his dick into my mouth. It had been weeks, too many weeks. I rolled my tongue up and down his soft cock, feeling it get harder the longer I played with it.
And then suddenly he was hard, and I was deep throating him. His hand was grabbing a fist of my hair at the back of my skull and he was in complete control of my mouth. He fucked my mouth by forcing my head down, cutting off my air supply. He made me hold my breath as he fucked deep in my mouth.
I controlled my gag reflex pretty well, only pulling up a couple of times for more air. I was his to use, and when he didn’t want to hold my hair any more, I still pushed his dick down my throat. I flicked my tongue up his cock while I held it in my mouth. I sucked on the head of his penis, making him beg for more, more!
He came down my throat and I sucked him off until he forced my head to still, dick down my throat still.
Dry spell broken.
We repeated the same routine Tuesday night.