There are some hoops that are definitely worth jumping through…
The other day, while scanning through some of the blogs and sites I frequent, it occurred to me that I ought to give MW some sort of sexual surprise.
During the naissance of our relationship, it was something I did with a certain regularity. I remember how, during one extended session of sweat-slicked foreplay, I surreptitiously reached under the pillow, and shortly afterwards introduced MW to the delights of a vibrator (though it’s only right to state that she’s since gone on to attain the proficiency of a Jedi Master when it comes to wielding her personal mini-light sabre). Another time, I slipped inside her, then whispered that she ought to look over at the television. When she did, she glimpsed her first ever hardcore sex scene. I can still her eyes, wide and fervent, as she watched the nameless couple on the screen fucking in the same way as us.
It was all part of my half-assed attempt at broadening her horizons. MW was never reticent about conceding that I’d enjoyed a somewhat more expansive education when it came to matters of the flesh. I only wanted to show her that there was more to sex than the selfish in-and-out-and-finished fumblings of her last boyfriend, to give her a glimpse of some of the exciting possibilities open to us both.
Over time, her level of experience caught up with mine. From then on, we were exploring uncharted territory together, both of us wide-eyed and nervy. It hoodwinked me into forgetting that there was still room enough for one of us to be surprising the other.
Complacency appeared to have bitten deep into the creative parts of my psyche.
Last Saturday evening, we were in the bedroom before 9:30. Indulgence time. MW undressed slowly while I watched, telling me that she wanted to give me a massage. I stripped naked, stretched myself across the bed and surrendered myself to her soft hands. The baby oil was chilled, forcing me to suppress a shiver as it splashed against my shoulder blades for the first time. MW’s fingers worked my neck, my shoulders, my arms, down the line of my spine, pressing the tension from my body. She spent an inordinate amount of time working my ‘glutes’ before descending to my thighs and calves, but then she does have a strong attraction to my backside.
Eventually, she told me to turn over. She worked her way down my chest and my abs towards my loins. Tantalisingly, she arrested her descent just past my navel, preferring to work her way back up my body until her lips were scarcely an inch from my own. As we kissed, she rubbed her breasts against my chest, our hard nipples colliding electrically. I was desperate for her to take me in hand, to feel her lightly oiled palm sliding up and down my shaft and over my balls, but MW evidently had other plans. In the end, I took the job on myself, stroking myself slowly, my hand moving against the outside of her thigh to let her know that I still remembered how to be self-sufficient. Her throaty gasp of realisation and pleasure told me that she wholeheartedly approved of my endeavours.
It was the perfect moment.
“Would you like me to buy a cock ring for us to try?” I whispered.
“A cock ring?”
I cleared my throat. “A man wears it around the base of his shaft, either in front of or behind his balls. It’s supposed to help keep him harder for longer.”
She reached out and stroked my cock along with my own hand. “You don’t seem to need any help in that area.”
“It can also make the cockhead and shaft more sensitive, and because it’s pressing on the underside of the shaft, it can make orgasm for the man more … intense.”
MW smiled. “Sounds good. So how do you know all of this?”
“I did a little reading online.” I swallowed. “You know, you might even find you’re aware of it too, pressing against your clitoris and your lips when I’m all the way inside you. Could be quite pleasurable…”
She looked at me dreamily. “So where can we get one?”
I nodded across the bedroom. “Chest of drawers. Top right.”
Her eyes widened, and then she laughed. She found the new acquisition without further guidance. She held it up as she walked back to the bed, a seamless metal ring, bright chrome winking tantalisingly in the soft lighting.
“Which sort is this?” she asked.
“The sort that stays in front of your balls.” I know, I know. I bottled out. But I would have needed nuts the size of a gerbil’s to get all of my equipment to leap through this particular hoop.
MW cocked her head. “And how does it go on?”
“Like a condom. But without the risk of anything tearing. I hope.”
She greased my glans and my shaft with her lightly oiled palms, then placed the cock ring over the tip of my cockhead, balancing it atop my straining flesh as though it were some lewd Frisbee. The metal was cool, but I hardly noticed. It warmed quickly.
“The Saint!” MW laughed.
Then she set about the serious business of my coronation, easing the ring all the way down my shaft to my balls. There was a little resistance, but no pain. When it was in place, she asked how it felt.
My cockhead looked redder, fuller than normal. The shaft seemed especially unyielding. “Snug,” I answered.
“Not painful?”
I shook my head. “I suspect I’ll pull through.”
MW swung one of her thighs across both of mine. “No sense in letting this go to waste then, is there?” she sighed, already descending, the velvet wetness of her hot cunt enveloping me in one lecherously fluid motion. I watched myself emerge and disappear, emerge and disappear within her flesh. My cock ring had quickly lost its lustre, already wet with her juices. It’s never likely to look better.
She rode me to three orgasms, then half-climbed, half-fell off me, panting wildly, pulling me with her, turning me even as she was offering her glorious pear of an arse to my still rampant cock.
“Quick!” she gasped. “Fuck me from behind!”
Never one to leave a belle dangling, I obliged with gusto.
I always come hard when I take MW from the rear (IMHO, that particular birds-eye view is nothing short of spectacular - but take a gander at the image on the left if you’d prefer to critique my tastes for yourself). But as I approached climax, I could already sense that it was going to be different, more intense, that our new friend was going to live up to more of its pre-match billing.
As the first pulse let rip, just for a millisecond, it felt as though it had caught on the ring pressed tight against the underside of my shaft, the semen having to force its way past. Each pulse of my seed added a spike of pleasure above and beyond the norm. I gasped harder and louder than I’d expected, causing MW to gasp in turn, “Oh God. Is it good? Is it good?”
From somewhere, I managed to find enough saliva to lubricate the word “yes”. Whether it was the thrusting of my cock, the explosion of my come, the affirmation of my pleasure or a combination of all three, I felt MW shudder beneath me as her own orgasm bloomed.
We lay still for a while, my cock still embedded within her, our breathing and racing hearts settling back towards pre-lust levels. It was only after a few minutes that I realised I was still hard, and remembered the warnings about prolonged use and numbness and priapism and necrosis. I eased out of MW and beheld my cock. To all intents, it was still fully erect.
MW turned over and regarded the marriage of white metal and hard, slightly damp flesh. “Impressive,” she cooed. But I wasn’t about to be flattered into commencing round two. An ache was building in my cock, and I wanted to make certain that I could disengage myself from my new crown without difficulty. I remembered only too well what happened to Franco in the ‘Rescue Me’ episode Inches. As far as I could see, there was little erotic potential in a panicked drive to the local accident and emergency ward. Sliding the ring up felt tighter, more awkward, but with a little impetus from my right bicep, the ring popped off. Almost immediately, my cock began to relax, as though with relief.
I settled back, the pleasure washing over me as MW curled into my side. “How did it feel for you?” I asked.
“You felt good. I couldn’t really feel the ring.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “I might feel it more if you were on top of me…”
The ring’s a keeper then. A regular? Who’s to say? I’m not even sure when it’ll be making its next appearance. But it’s already achieved its primary mission: reminding me that there’s always a necessity for introducing a pleasant surprise.
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