The chain clinks and my heart melts

There is definitely something hot about the sound of a chain, not a dainty one that suspends a pendant, but a heavy chain like my collar.

I love it when my Husband grabs my collar, whether that is simply holding his hand across the back of my neck during a passionate kiss, or the sound of it cinching tighter and tighter if he pulls on the padlocks. Just recently I have discovered a love of pleasing him, rather then simply being a selfish lover. I have discovered I actually rather enjoy giving him blow jobs and he certainly isn’t complaining. Over the last few months we have ended up having more oral sex than standard sex, yay.

Why am I telling you this? Well, I’m not really sure, but as a lady that used to Hate giving head, I guess I’m writing about this for myself. It used to make me feel physically sick, the idea of ramming a penis into my face. The idea of swallowing his semen, gagging as my tonsils get covered in salty sticky goo, it was vile to me.
But now I enjoy it – I enjoy watching his body move and react, the glint in his eyes, that look of almost pain as he climaxes. It is rather bloody satisfying if I’m honest with you all. That feeling that my mouth can do so much to his entire body, almost make him dance. When I try to make love, be that loving gentle sex or fast and furious fucking, I feel awkward and clumsy. I really cannot move my whole body as easily or gracefully as my tongue.

But my Husband had to go one better, and be in charge still. He will grab my hair, and direct my head down the bed. Then after several times taking the control back by using my ponytails, he started using my collar. Grabbing my collar firmly and pulling my face up his shaft, and pushing me back down with the other hand. Up and down, and up and down, harder and harder until I am stifling tears from the pain of my gag reflex versus forced deep-throat.

It is glorious, the sound of my chain clinking as my head bobs up and down fast. My padlocks hit his balls, and my nose bashes on his belly. It feels like it lasts for hours, but it is just minutes. I roll my eyes to the side and glance in our big mirror – the joy on his face would make me smile if I was able to, but, yanno, penis stuffed in my mouth and all that.

I lift my head away after he cums, and he releases his grip. I snuggle up with my head on his chest, he will stroke my hair, wipe my tears and kiss my forehead. In those moments, I feel special, I feel overwhelming love from him. It’s not just sex, it’s so much more than that. It’s like blind trust, the pulling of my collar, (which is a symbol of trust and love) and restricting my breathing. All the time I could tap out (safeword) and stop it, but I don’t.

There is a beauty in brutality.

Kink is my Mindfulness

Today I had to go to a “mindfulness” group. We are all sat on chairs in a circle, like an AA meeting. The group leader says to sit still, close your eyes, and slowly goes through a script, which he knows off by heart. Concentrate your mind on a certain type of feeling, a certain type of sensation, or a certain body part. Try to declutter your mind, to free your body. It all feels a bit silly at first.

Mindfulness is a sort of meditation almost, thinking yourself calm as things around you go belly up. Every time I go there I get asked “how did home practice go?” and I say something evasive like “ohh, I forgot” or “I just did mindfulness in the bath” when what I really want to say is I kinked the hell out of it.

One of the exercises we often do is called a body scan – this is a slow meditation thingamybob where you almost over concentrate on your breathing, your movements, automatic sounds your body makes – almost to the point of ignoring everything but the instructions on the script (or app, or podcast or similar). That is how is supposed to be done.

What we do….

I will tell my Husband I want kink time, maybe directly, maybe by being bratty. Either way, it’s ending up in bondage, impact play, role play or some other kink. More often than not, impact and sensation play. Instead of laying on my back on a yoga mat pondering why my leg hurts, I’ll be laying front side down on my bed, knowing exactly why I am feeling that. The script is my master’s voice “well done Wife”, the gentle caress before a spank, the whispers near my ear to check I’m listening. The firm grip on my wedding hand to remind me I’m loved.

My normal vanilla stresses are pushed aside whilst he’s in charge of my body and mind. For all I care there could be a hurricane outside, I wouldn’t hear. He makes me laugh, wriggle, talk, cry, smile and so much more.

I wish I could recommend kink to the mindful group, but I suspect I’d be considered a freak. I mean, why would a seemingly strong woman WANT her Husband to hit her? Believe it or not, it’s about controlling my own life, not being controlled by him, which is often the assumption if folk ask why I wear this chain around my neck, this padlocked collar. I am going to suffer everyday, the exhaustion, all over pain and everything else that goes with my illness wether or not I want to. Yet when he spanks me, or runs a pinwheel across my skin, that is the only part of my body I feel.

Obviously, I am not saying kink cures illnesses, it so doesn’t. But when I’m in his loving hands, my normal pain melts. Just us in the room, just us in the universe, and nothing else matters.

I adulted at Pride

As friends know I was at Pride in my local town this weekend. One of the stalls in the park was a sexual health charity, (https://www.eddystone.org.uk) a very nice bloke on the front had spoken to me earlier in the day so I went back later…. they were offering free testing for HIV and I knew I should.

I’ve always had low immunity to viruses going about, I swear I have a cold, flu or sore throat about half my life! Low immunity is a symptom of HIV or Aids isn’t it? No harm in getting checked out.

I didn’t want a test due to drugs or sexual promiscuity, as neither of those things is me. No, my worry is BDSM play parties. I play rough, blood has been spilt. You never really know if your play friends are medically fine.

The test showed negative, I’m all clear But I want to urge anyone reading this to get tested. It wasn’t a needle type blood test, it was a finger prick type. He just did the clicker against my finger and squeezed the dot of blood into a tiny pipette to use in the test. I can’t even see a mark…. you could do this test in a few minutes in your lunch break and your other half wouldn’t know unless you told them.

Go on, get tested please? Might save a life!!

Am I offering or demanding?

I thought I was offering myself to you, Husband. I came downstairs in a sheer lace nightie, so short my white lace pants were on show. I was all cuffed and I had even put a lead on.

I went in to the kitchen, chains rattling as I walked. I washed up, in full view of nosey neighbours and I made you a cuppa, because, well, we are British and I wasn’t planning on sleeping soon.

As I bent down, I gave him the cuppa and point out I’m HIS. Implying strongly I want to be used. He looks at me and says “Are you asking or demanding?” Then he carries on reading! Ouch! It was an offer, almost naked – just enough fabric so I don’t shiver but all the access still. Collar, wrist and ankle cuffs all with D loops to tie me or drag me easily. I think even a vanilla bloke with a pulse would go for that kind of offer from their partner.

I offered myself to you, without conditions or exclusions, my body and mind placed in your hands Husband. Yes, okay, I wanted fucking eventually, but my main gift was being a willing victim. A bit over willing.

Without warning a few minutes later you say “I’m going upstairs. When I come back I expect you to have moved the furniture“. We have a leather foot stool, it’s rather large and it’s our spanking bench hidden in plain sight. I turn on a Motorhead CD to disguise noise a teeny bit and to make a nice mood.
“Now to see how much you trust me Wife” he says as he is in the last few steps down stairs. As he walks I recognise a few things, rope, floggers and the big blindfold. “KNEEL!

Where Dear, isn’t not a clear instruction?” He didn’t seem mega impressed, and I was directed to my knees at the bench. The blindfold was tied on, rather fucking tightly too. Face down in the leather, I feel rope pass my wrists, he runs rope between my ankles and wrists, using the cuffs, this prevents me from full movement but still keeps me down.

Several toys struck my arse, and his hands. Spanking me with spiked gloves and then massaging me with the vamp gloves I crafted for him. I’m not sure wether to scream safe words all over the place or just cum hard. I’m guessing I chose the later as I kind of spaced out in happy pain, and bit of almost primal sighs and noises. I was genuinely dribbling into the leather… I’ve no idea how long I was face down but I know there was blood. Gawd I love it when I feel tiny drips of blood roll across my hot flesh.

He pulls my ropes to make me stand, “follow me Wife” the ropes are still on my wrists and he escorts me to the stairs. He says “open your mouth” and makes me carry my pants in my mouth. I’m still totally blind and follow him up the steps… I’m trying to count my steps so I don’t fall or rebreak any bones in my feet. He kindly informs me when I’m on the last step though. Into the bedroom we go. “Lie down” so I lie diagonally across the bed “WIFE! You know that is wrong” so I mumble a bit and lay in the centre of our bed, head on the pillows, face side up. The ropes get removed but I’m not allowed to touch him yet.

He kissed me and his wandering hands send me into a few orgasms. Infact he plays so damn well the duvet becomes wet. Holding me in a big, full body shaking orgasm for what felt like hours. I desperately want fucking, hard.

Husband says “if you want fucking, pick a hole” so I flip around and go down on him. My stomach is against his, and I’m moving my whole body up and down on him not just moving my head. I really want his hands inside me, or his face. The idea of his fist going inside me was winding me up, getting more than a bit carried away I stretch his balls and bite his penis. I drop hints, I push down harder if fingers went inside, but the swine just wouldn’t finish me off like that. Instead I’m fingered up the pussy and arse. I swallow for him and we fall asleep in each others arms.

Still the question lingered, am a demanding or offering?

I don’t do canes

Canes are a hard limit of mine, the look and feel of them gives me flashbacks and triggers panic in me.

However I felt my sadist was missing out. I decided I should make him a cane. I took a branch from one of our fruit trees (morelo cherry) and I spent a couple of hours whittling it away with a Stanley knife. All the bark is gone and the bumps where new branches jutted out are now smoother. The surface is not utterly smooth, but it is now safe. Along the “cane” you can see darker bits of wood grain that have been sliced into.

Cane
The branch itself was not straight and perfect, but the bends and kinks add to the pain. It has a gradual curve along the branch which makes it good for flicking too.

I presented it to him as he got in from work and I almost regretted giving him a new toy. I was shrieking. I had tears in my eyes and was tempted to safe word, then I caught a glimpse of his face. His face had a massive grin and was clearly loving it. A few more strikes and he rolls me over in a dominant manner and passionately kisses me. I feel safe, warm, protected and loved.

No words were needed but he let’s me know he’s proud of me. I melt in his arms, feeling utter love. He is my Top, my sadist, my Husband, but he’s also my safe place. I’m learning to trust him as much as I love him.

How did this happen? Freedom

A long long time ago my life felt like it was over. I had no future, no freedom, I did as I was told, I barely existed.

Yet here I am, with my body draped over a lovely chap that respects me, head on his chest feeling almost blessed. I’m pondering how unlikely it was that we even met, let alone that we would end up with each other. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking as he says “happy happy happy”, “what are you happy about?”, “that I’ve got you!”.

I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. we’ve been in love for 15 years now, but the last year has definitely been the best. We’ve been vanilla(ish) most of our relationship, with things getting gradually more fun as I learnt to trust again. I learnt to live, and how to be free.

I proposed to him in January, married in June and got collared in September. Since being married I’ve felt such love, protection and acceptance that I suggested that he collar me. Now that sounds strange, finally able to feel free, and I ask for a virtual chain.
But it is not a desire to be chained, shackled or hurt – it’s a deeper level of trust. Husband pretty much owns my soul, and my heart, why not my body too?

It’s a strange feeling of liberation, being collared. I feel stronger and happier knowing that we have such a connection. Even when vanilla types glare at my (very unsubtle) collar and seem disgusted or offended by it, I feel proud. I chose my Husband. I asked his parents permission. I dropped to one fucking knee and told him I wanted him. I married him. I submitted to him. And all as my own choices.

I never thought I’d be here. I truthfully didn’t think I’d live past my early twenties – I escaped from the danger I was in, but I still got death threats. I still had meltdowns and nightmares – part of myself was still there, locked in to my own home and being raped, abused and hurt. I never thought I would have the strength to run. To survive. To make it through the suicidal times. But somehow I did. It wasn’t easy, and I have no idea how Husband coped with me in the early years of our relationship – I know I was a fucking wreck. But now I feel completely over it, safe, happy and settled.

I still pinch myself sometimes, I’m alive and married. Respected and loved completely. I matter and I’m so much more than just a survivor.

I’m HIS.

Bloody good sex 

A few days ago Husband went shopping online after I dropped hints. By dropping hints I mean I put my phone in front of him on the checkout page of Lovehoney. After the kids went to bed we went shopping properly and chose a few more things. A collar for me, fleshlight for him, stockings, a new flogger, lube and specialist fisting lube.
When the parcel arrived poor husband got several “can I open the box” messages from me, “patience Wife!” and “self control Wife!” were among the replies. I bet he was giggling at work with my begging messages.
When he eventually got home he didn’t open stuff straight away but I got my toys in the end.

We went to the gym late that night, with me collared. I was being a bit of a Brat, “I don’t wanna do that” – “it’s going to hurt” and similar, to which I got quietly reminded “if you don’t I won’t flog you” so I did as told, sort of. He made me do monkey hanging bar pull ups, which made my hands blister and ache, I needed slight revenge, so rather than just lifting my legs off the ground, I swung my feet and kicked him in the stomach/chest whilst still hanging. So technically still doing as I’m told here! After a bit more mucking about with exercise we go home (after midnight) and to bed. Not for sleep obviously…

I got the fleshlight on him, I wasn’t sure at first but I think it’s a hit. There just aren’t enough sex toys for men out there are there, it’s mean. Anyhow I seemingly overdid the lube as I wasn’t sure what was correct for this toy, the noises were comedy gold, squealching and bubbling everywhere. His hand wanders to my throat, so I move my chin up in silent submission, and he grabs me gently and pushes down. Not a violent suffocation, a sensual reduction in breathing, taking control. He shudders and wiggles and I go down on him whilst still using this toy on him. I can confirm that got him happy.

I didn’t get my flogging, but I did feel loved, desired and needed as he hugged into spooning, grabbing carefully at my boobs. Normally I hate his snoring, not tonight though, it sounded like grateful exhaustion. Cute chap woke up a few times and adjusted his grip to keep me pulled close. Thank you husband, the love is mutual, it’s not just sex.

Last night
Bloody sex. As I’m sure you know if you’ve been reading my diary, I like fisting a bit too much. Well if you’re a bit blood squeamish, stop reading…. that’s your only warning folks.

It is my period. We are no strangers to shagging during bleeding but I wanted to push things. I want fisting whilst bleeding. A big soft bath towel goes on our bed, and I lay naked waiting. A bit of mutual masurbation and a whole lot of dampness, I catch a glimpse of his Red bloody hand a few times. Blood is a bit of a phobia for me, owing to a nonkink near death experience, so for me this is edge play. It’s more than just a physical wank. He moves down the bed to get into his usual comfy position for fisting. Half of Me wants this desperately, for him to take my fear and turn it into a massive clusterfuck of multiple orgasms and trust. Part of me is terrified of dying, of bleeding to death, of saying goodbye in hospital again. He is respectfull and knows it’s more than sex, way more.

Sadly a combination of gym related pain from overdoing things and possibly the phobia it hurts to much to fully get his arm inside me. I’m disappointed in myself that I can’t do this… but we will at some point. He’s not grumpy or nasty as I call the game over instruction, he moves back up the bed and kisses me hard. His stubble feels like it is ripping my face. Then his hand comes up to my neck. His hand has my blood on it, and he’s carefully stopping my breathing with it. My mind is a ablaze. My blood is being spread on my body, and rather than being terrified I want more. I wish for a moment he was less caring, and he hadn’t stopped the fisting attempt. I want my blood all over my own tits, I want his happy wandering hands to paint me happy.

I keep wanking him as he presses harder with that damp hand on my throat, he stops me breathing long enough a couple of times to feel slightly light headed, and I’m ridiculously horny.
He shoots all over me, warm and sticky, satisfied and messy. He pops to the toilet for a quick wash, I just lay there grinning. I hold him as he sleeps, watch him as he breathes in and out and think about just how lucky I am to have such trust in my Husband. How the hell did I find someone like him? I’m a happy bunny, but too sexually high to sleep.

Fire play

The weekend was fun, we went to a “peer rope” event in the daytime. If you have never heard the term peer rope, think of it as open adult education session, an exchange of rope bondage ideas and knowledge. I got tied by Husband, he’s a total rope novice, which is why we went to learn. I also got tied by a single friend of ours, he’s tied me before, but this time F is telling Husband how he’s doing things – step by step. After some cake it’s time to leave for a play event.
The rope event had been in vanilla attire so it didn’t upset the nieghbours, at the organisers request. The play event is far from vanilla, and they are strict with their dress code. I once saw a guy who arrived in jeans forced to remove them if he wanted to come in, even though he had no other trousers. Lesson of the day, read the dress code. It us about half an hour drive from where we are to the evening play event, and F is following us in his own car as he’s not too sure about how to get there. As husband is driving I get changed whilst driving. From gym leggings, a hoodie and a tunic top into a Hell Bunny dress, stockings, suspenders, high heels and lingerie.F had a puzzled face when we’d all parked up “you weren’t wearing that?” He say and I just grin.

This event is in a nightclub, but it is not open to general public tonight. Just the kinky. We played with fire after some socialising, which meant I had to strip and lean against an A-Frame and promise not to move or my long hair might catch fire. The fire play expert waves flaming torches (like fire jugglers use) over my skin, lingering near my nipples for extra burning. When I say burning, it’s more like scorching than proper burns. Husband is given the torch and shown what to do. The fire play expert is commenting on how tough I am, and how I’m giggling and smiling rather than grimacing, screaming or flinching.

Next up I’m allowed to do the same to Husband. This is fun, I’m an exhibitionist, he’s not, and there he is in black trunks in front of a packed room. Eyes are on us, I get to singe his chest and back hair off. It’s cathartic for me, I hate that chest hair. I didn’t leave him bare chested, but I certainly got a lot of it. I enjoy tapping him with the end of the torch and watching him jump and squirm as I move, like a sort of control game, with a bit of danger thrown in. The torch runs out of fuel and I help him get dressed again as I thank the fire play experts.

I like this game!

What a way to wake up

This morning we were supposed to wake up reasonably early but I was sleepy. I didn’t want to wake up. I was not waking up. Husband shuts the bedroom door and grabs a few toys, my eyes slightly open and I realise his intentions. I smirk in a cheeky way, which basically means “go on then”. 

I as a bit blurry and can’t really remember what happened first, but first thing I was being flogged. A nice gentle (almost tickling) flog. He didn’t stay gentle for long though. The wooden spoon, a spatula, the riding crop, a looped rope flogger, the jute rope flogger, bare handed spanking and who knows what else get used on me. Mainly my back and shoulders, but also my arse and legs for a short while. 

Whilst the crop was slapping on my skin it was hurting but it was a lovely pain. I wanted to tell him to hit me harder, but I didn’t want to speak. I was very happy, in honesty I was having a weak orgasm from the crack of pain. The noise, the feeling… I’m going to have bruises but I’m past caring. I am pretty much begging with my body language, despite being non verbal right now.  I want him.

I start talking, but only to be demanding. I want fisting, I pretty much need that release, I am too wound up. Sex alone ain’t going to cut it, I need more. He does as he’s told, even though people think he’s the dominant. I get him where I want him, cold lube on his arm and I am having fun. It’s my period, so things are a bit more intimate. I lose control, albeit not completely, he is my boss right now. It feels like only a few minutes to me, but I lose all sense of time when excited, then he orders me to move to my knees. If I drop his hand as I struggle to flip my body over he will stop, utter denial. Being left like this IS torture. 

I move slowly and carefully, clenching every muscle I can to keep hold of him. Success, I’m proud of myself, but no chance to celebrate. Barely chance to breath in fact as he rewards my efforts with pretty vicious thrusting. I’m on my knees, face down in our pillows, my hands are down just in front of my head. For a few seconds I wish he would be gentle, but then the euphoric feeling hits and that idea is gone. I’m in sexual heaven, and my fingers are scratching down our leather headboard. I cannot focus on anything, all I can do is scream. He spanks my arse with his bare hand, and my hand wanders to my crotch. I tough myself as he fists me, I’m screaming in pleasure but I want to lose control. 

Husband lets me fondle myself for a short time and then grabs me by my collar, gently at first. Then he pulls harder, he disrupts my breathing and time feels like it is slowing down. The pressure in my lungs, the delightful weakness throughout my body after a long and sustained orgasm, then the dizzy feeling from oxygen deprevation kicks in. Just at the right time he released my collar, I breath deeply and scream in delight.

It wasn’t negative screaming, I’m not worried, I was just very in the moment. He could hurt me badly, in this state I am pretty vulnerable, but I trust him completely, I’ve no need to be afraid. I know that if I shout a safe word he will stop immediately. Trust allows for some wonderful sex that’s for sure. 

When he decides I’ve had enough he pulls his arm from inside me and starts scratching my back with metal claws. My blood is on his hands. It feels like he wrote his initials on my back before going for a more wavy random scratching style. I love the feeling of claws – like little knives moved with care all over my body. They are cold metal but cause heat on my skin when he’s done. They aren’t actually super sharp, if used right they feel almost blunt, but if they are pulled across your flesh fast enough they feel delightfully sharp. He moves down and also scratches my arse and legs, in a more sensual way, tickling almost, he rolls me over. I’m now on my back. Husband is sucking then slapping my tits, it’s hurting but I am laughing, I enjoy playtime pain. He even slaps my face. 

I plead for sex, I am half expecting to be forced to beg, I am desperate to feel him inside me, for him to cum inside me. Missionary position – yes okay, it sounds dull but it so was not boring. It was loving, and close, and sweaty, the perfect fuck. But he doesn’t stay – he pulls out and says I should get on my knees. Doggy now, this I like a lot. He again grabs me by my collar, moving me into the position that causes the deepest penetration. Pulling hard, this sends me into another orgasm.

Eventually we stop playing and just hug. I’m not sure how long we hugged, but then we had a shower together to wash away the blood, sweat and spunk. We get dressed ready for our vanilla day. Which today was going to a rugby match with friends. Back to boring…. 

Rubber duck and bubbles

Yesterday Husband had a day off work as he had to attend hospital. He normally commutes almost 2 hours each way, so coming to our home town to hospital and popping back to work after is impossible. This meant he had free time where he wasn’t working and I wasn’t looking after our children, adult time, oh Yay!

It started nicely, he took the kids to school and left me sleeping. When he returned it was with croissants and pain au chocolate, he made some fresh coffee and sneaks upstairs to wake me.

I see him walking up the stairs holding a big blue tray, two plates, two cups and a cafetiere. Apparently breakfast in bed is like an aphrodisiac to me, as shortly afterwards we are hugging. I went to sleep wearing a nice Ann Summers bra and thong set with a fishnet dress over it. I knew that he’d wake up wanting me.

 

The hug got close and I suggest a bath together. Husband doesn’t take baths, he never has, he always has showers. But he accepts my offer, and I run us a bath with lavender bubble bath and call him in. Our cd collection is playing via MP3 from Husband’s mobile phone on the windowsill, this not only means we have nice sounds, but it also hides noises from the neighbours.

He gets in and brings Duck with him. I’m sat facing him, Husband’s back is towards the tap end. I starts off as an almost vanilla shared bath, but soon enough it gets naughty. His broken arm is holding Duck by my clit, his other hand is stroking around the entrance to my vagina. He slips two fingers in me but things are not moving smoothly, I joke that lube is pointless as it’s pretty much all water-based these days, and suggest the shower gel might be a better alternative. He rubs shower gel over my legs and tummy, and then dribbles it over his good hand. My mind goes naughty as it’s thick creamy shower gel, and it is white. The prefect choice for a kinky bath – I’d advise strongly against the use of tingly bath products for this purpose (never ever get Original Source on your genitals, trust me).

A few more gentle fingers and then he goes for it, his arm is deep inside me, the smell of coconut is in the room. I am happy and encourage him to do as he pleases, that I trust him and nothing he can do will be too rough. Relentlessly he keeps fucking me, with his broken arm tickling and teasing elsewhere. I was almost sat up for a short while as I react to the strong movements inside me, but then I relax and allow myself to sink backwards, to utterly relax and submit. I’ve hit the sexual high stage, all I care about right now are the orgasms, and I move instinctively rather than thinking about things first. As we are a couple who like breath play (AKA strangling or asphyxiation) the idea dawned on me that I’m in water, I can do the breathing thing myself. Mid-orgasm I smirk at him, gasp to take a deep breath and I go under the water holding my nose. I don’t stay under a very long time, I just want to test if it works for me. It does, it totally does.

I wait until the next time I want to call out, to moan or scream and at that point I go under, with Husband still thrusting his arm into me. I hold my nose and dive, the feeling is overwhelming and I am moaning underwater, I can see bubbles of air leaving my mouth. I know this is going to be good! I stay under longer than Husband was comfortable with and his foot pushes my neck and head out of the water in a gentle way. I didn’t think it was too long, I was still cumming! This game continued for around an hour and a half until his broken arm was going a bit stiff, causing him too much pain to carry on much longer. It was honestly the best sex I’ve had in my life.

He releases the plug to drain the water, and removes his arm from me. I’m euphoric, and high as a kite. We get out and help each other dry, He has a hospital appointment to attend for his arm, so we can’t just lie in each others arms, which is all I want to do when I am in this state. I adore what Husband can do to me, how he makes me feel. I walk downstairs with a massive grin on my face, and off we go to my car for the vanilla hospital trip.

Later we play on the kitchen table. It might sound basic, but it is fun. A wooden kitchen table is such a harsh, solid, unforgiving surface to lie on during sex that it makes a good place for making love in a more naughty way.

What was more naughty is it was daytime still, we weren’t home alone, so I had to attempt to keep my excitement quiet. I am a very vocal lover, so this ain’t easy. Our kitchen is at the front of our house, near a shared “green” where kids play and dog walkers frequently pass our window. There was some risk of getting caught, even if our genitals were facing away from he window, the blinds were not fully twisted to closed. I don’t think anyone saw, but next-door probably heard me shout “harder” at least once.

The wood was creaking and wobbling, I was climaxing and rolling about – every now and then I’d worry about falling off of that table. Husband is going faster and firmly, and ejaculates into my body. Nothing is as comforting to me when I’m horny as his semen inside me, an act of love resulting in warm dampness.  It was great fun, but my back did not agree as I’ve been in pain since then.

Next time, a pillow is needed. There will be a next time.