In recent years, the stigma surrounding the use of sex toys by men has significantly…
It could have been any other weekend for all I cared. It was Saturday night. I was home alone. My husband was out with “the guys” doing their usual thing. He had invited me to go along but as usual I said no, trying to hint to him I wanted to go out with him and spend time with him. But just like every other guy I ever knew, he didn’t take hints very well.
I sat on the couch bored out of my mind just flipping through TV channel after TV channel. You all know exactly what I am talking about. Of course it is nights like these that every time you pass by a movie channel after a certain hour the only thing on is soft porn. Resolved to my movie choices I decided to just go ahead and watch one of them. It had a really silly plot, where the wife was pimping out her husband, who had recently been laid off of work, out to her friends to earn the extra income. And wouldn’t you know it they realize their marriage is in jeopardy when the wife becomes jealous of all her husbands activities. How do you think it ended, with the two of them in the fastest apology between a husband and a wife and making crazy love all night long? If only it happened that easily.
I guess even through its ridiculous plot, something in it must have turned me on. I found myself flipping through the stations a little more vigorously looking for something else to watch. Aha. Found something. HBO’s ‘Real Sex’. It’s funny how I don’t really like that show all that much but always seem to end up watching it anyway. Like being an addict. An addict to sex more likely, definitely not the show. It was my luck too, that the episode happened to be about masturbation. Well I must’ve been their target audience that night.
As I sat and watched the short segment, I guess my hand had slipped down between my legs. Not that it was unusual for me to masturbate. Hell I did it almost everyday, sometimes twice a day. Lord knows hubby wasn’t supplying the goods like he used to. Anyway, I sat there in my husband’s boxers and tank-top t-shirt on petting myself through the side of the leg opening of the boxers. Just twirling my finger around my lips slowly and lightly. It was just relaxing. I decided to flip the TV off and get a little more comfortable. I opened a bottle of wine, turned down the lights and figured I’d romance myself. I lit a cigarette took a big puff, and with that sat down on the couch in a big slump.
The leather had stayed nice and warm from where I had been sitting which felt great against my exposed thighs. I took another drag of the cigarette in my left hand, and slid my right hand up to my breast under my shirt and felt my nipple. I caressed it slowly and around and around. Slowly I moved my hand down my stomach to the top of the boxers and played with my own belly button for a few minutes. I grabbed a sip of wine, put the glass down. Dabbled my finger in the wine glass and rubbed it around my belly button. Oh how I wish hubby was home to lick it off. Oh well, what else are fantasy’s good for but imagining what it could be like.
I put the cigarette out in the ashtray, knocked off the remaining wine in the glass and leaned back to get comfy. I decided to just slide the boxers off so I could feel the leather right against my butt cheeks. I slid them off to the floor and left them right there at my feet. I could hear the leather scrunching under my butt cheeks as I sat back. I wiggled a little bit on the sofa just to hear the squeaking noise of flesh on leather again.
I spread my knees wide with both feet flat on the floor, and I could feel the cool air of the house wisp over my crotch. I pressed back further into the sofa cushions hearing more of the leather noises. For some reason the sound of leather and flesh on a sofa usually annoys me, but that night it was nice, actually quite pleasant to hear.
I lifted my shirt up so both of my breasts were exposed, and I just looked at my nipples for a moment just hard and pointing to the sky. I put a hand on each of my thighs and massaged them slowly. I slowly moved them up till I could play with the little bit of stubble that was on my crotch since I hadn’t shaved in about three days or so. The grittiness of the stubble just felt so nice against my fingertips. Stroking it against the grain of the hair sent tingles all down my skin to my clit.
I was feeling hot, wet and starting to perspire a little bit between my legs. I ran my right hand down to my inner thigh to feel the combination of all the moisture and heat. Mmmmmm, I wanted a man so bad right then. A burglar could have come in the house and he could’ve had me right then I needed so bad.
I began to stroke myself slowly, and I don’t know what made that night so special or so memorable or what was in the air. I remember hearing the leather cringe and squeak against my flesh as I arched my back slightly and tensed my leg muscles. The leather was hot and sweaty against my butt cheeks now and against my back, almost uncomfortable. But every time I heard the noise, it just seemed to heighten my climax. I was petting myself rather aggressively at that moment, not like me. I usually like it slow and light, but that night I was going to town on myself. I knew I’d be soar from it. Wow it felt so good. Such a release I needed.
I stayed exactly where I was. I didn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I felt so good right where I was. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
It was about 2:30 am when I opened my eyes. I looked in front of me and the first think I could make out of my haziness was a cock in front of me. I was startled partly, then looked up quickly and saw my husband standing there right between my legs. I must have been sleeping hard; my body was in the exact spot it was two hours before when I must’ve fallen asleep.
There he was with his cock in his hand, pants around his ankles, smelling like cheap cigars and alcohol. He was stroking his cock very slowly and it was extremely hard. His eyes were closed. I still wonder what he was fantasizing about but whatever it was it seemed like a good one. He was stroking so rhythmically, trying to keep control. He didn’t even notice I woke up. I didn’t move, I didn’t want to disrupt him. He was rarely if ever this bold sexually.
I could feel my crotch getting hot again, yearning and longing for his cock inside me. I thought about moving, but he seemed to be in such a good state. I saw his stomach muscles tense up. I started to smile a little. I knew he was about cum, and where he was standing it was going to go all over my stomach and my crotch. His hand moved even slower then stopped right at the base of his hard erect cock. Then I saw a little pre-cum ooze out, followed by a quick burst of semen. It landed right in the middle of my stomach. Wow I was so stimulate and so aroused, just a brush of anything on my clit would have sent me into an orgasm. Then more came out of his cock, and landed on my belly button right near where I rubbed the wine earlier…The last bits were coming out now, but not strong enough to spurt. It was dripping down onto my thigh and around my crotch. He was stroking again, his eyes open and staring dead at me. We locked in a gaze for a moment, me still smiling. Him out of breath trying to calm himself and regain composure. And some cum was still falling from his cock onto me, and as any luck would have it, a big glob dropped right onto the tip of slit, right onto my clit and really sent me into an orgasm. Slight at first, very slight, then he kneeled down, rubbed the tip of his cock lightly against my clit, and sent me waves and waves of pleasure. I had a pleasant orgasm. I think some of my juices gushed out, I felt so slimy wet. He put his hand down between my legs, wiped with a couple fingers, put them to his mouth, and sucked them off.
He stood up. Pulled his pants up. Looked down at me and smiled. Then he just turned walked away and I heard him go upstairs. I pulled up the boxers still on the floor under me. Some cum had dribbled on them, which I felt against my legs as I pulled them up. Cold feeling now which was kind of gross but a turn on at the same time. I flicked off the light and trotted upstairs as fast as I could to the bedroom.
I opened the door, and there he was. Passed out face down on the bed. Just like any other any other weekend. It was Saturday night. I was home but up alone now. My husband was out cold on the bed, the usual thing. He had invited me upstairs with those eyes but as usual I by the time I got up there he was out. But just like every other guy I ever knew, he couldn’t last more than once for the most part.
So now I am sitting in bed. Not alone, but I might as well be. I wonder if there is anything else good on HBO.