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Foxy Lady
Star
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2014
- Location
- United Kingdom
I'm wearing a bow tie, in black velvet, tight round my throat.
That's it, nothing else.
I'm kneeling astride my husband, who is sitting on the bed leaning against the pillows. He's naked too.
His cock is in my cunt. Not all of it, just the head.
We've been like this for, well I'm not sure exactly because checking the clock rather spoils the occasion, at least that is what I've found. Unless, of course, you want to put the guy under some pressure. Let's say 5 minutes, could be more, could be less.
I'm barely moving.
I will eventually, he knows that, and he's waiting, but waiting is half the pleasure, or maybe even more than half.
This began just after supper when I walked into the sitting room, fully clothed, but wearing this tie. He noticed rightaway and smiled at me. He knows something is going to happen when I wear this tie, but he is never sure what. The uncertainty adds to the pleasure, so I've found.
I wandered out and left him there. Let him wait, let him wonder.
When I came back, I was dressed just as I had been before, but this time without the dress. Now he could see the whole ensemble. Bra, thong, suspender belt, stockings.
I went about my business, clearing things up and taking them out to the kitchen.
When I came back, the bra had gone. He likes my tits, not that there is much of them, but they turn him on. Which is very gratifying for me after being married to him for this long. I stomp a little to make them bounce as I walk around the sofa, keeping clear of him. He mustn't touch. Not now, not later. He knows that. This is going to be all about him and he likes that. So do I, as it happens, otherwise I wouldn't do it. And that is very gratifying for him.
Let him wait for a while. There is no hurry. Which gives me time to stack the dishwasher. I hate coming down in the morning to a sink full of dirty dishes.
With the washing up sorted, I come back and stand in the doorway until he notices me. Still in thong, belt and stockings. He finally realises I am there, which is when I turn and walk away, upstairs.
He follows. Close. So close I can feel his breath on my buttocks. It's hot.
In the bedroom now, and I ignore him. This is my technique. No fancy dancing or slow reveal striptease. I'm no good at that. I just disrobe as if he were not there, making no attempt to turn either of us on. Which of course makes us both horny. He is the voyeur and I am the victim caught unawares. I unfasten the suspenders and wander around for a bit, straightening a chair, folding the clothes that he has discarded.
Time now to slip out of the thong. I turn my back and bend forward as I do so, a concession to his fetish, well one of them, giving him a good view of my ass. He may as well enjoy the view, because that is as close as he will get to it tonight. I pay him no attention as I place the thong into the basket for washing.
Another tour of the bedroom, suspenders swinging, white thigh flesh flexing.
He has no idea of what I am planning. Not yet. Let him guess. Let him enjoy guessing.
I sit on my stole and roll one stocking down my leg and over my toes. A quick trip to the laundry basket and it joins the thong. For variety, I put my foot on the end of the bed as I roll down the remaining stocking. I trail it along his leg and over his balls. He shivers as the silky material glides along his cock before heading up stomach to tickle his nipples.
A quick flick and it is away, landing in the bin. Perfect.
Which leaves me in my belt. He likes watching me stride around with those suspenders swinging, so I give him a treat and put on a parade for him. But all good things must come to an end, so I unfasten the belt and hang it over a chair. No need to wash that.
We are now both naked, apart from my bow tie. His cock is rigid with a nice curve. For those who are interested, it is not particularly long or thick, but it fills me nicely. I have no complaints about what he's packing or what he does with it.
This is where I started the blog, more or less. I climb astride and lower myself until his head is inside me. And there I stay. Not completely still. I move as I breath and, as time passes, I get a little unstable perched up on my knees, so I sway a bit.
He's not touched me, and he won't. He knows the rules and the consequence of disobeying them. I will walk away and leave him to sort himself out. He doesn't want that, however desperate he may get, what I do to him will be better, much better.
Time to move this along. Time to begin to circle, small at first, each getting larger as I swivel my hips. Still only gripping that head. He wants to thrust up, penetrate me deep, but he has to restrain himself. He can cum whenever he wants, that's fine, but he must just lie there and take it until he can't hold out any longer. As the circles widen, his cock is thrown around, I can feel it throbbing.
My thighs are burning. It's been some time since I did this, or did it for this long anyway. So, every so often, just to allow me to relax my muscles, I sink down the length of his shaft and grind a bit before climbing back up to the head. The first is swift. The next slow. Then I vary it, making sure he never knows quite what will happen next.
I'm sitting on his hips now, cock deep inside me, as I play with my nipples. Pulling, twisting, pinching. His eyes are following my fingers. I wait until his eyes come back to mine, and then I mouth a message to him. It is just one word, let out slowly. My mouth articulated its clearly, so there is no mistake. I change the intonation each time. My expression changes to match, my mouth moving to match.
'Fuck.'
That is all I say, over and over, in every different way.
I don't lose eye contact, but out of the corner of my eye I see his finger clutching at the sheet. Through my buttocks and thighs I feel him trembling. Inside my cunt, his cock is throbbing.
His eyes are closed now. No point mouthing words to him. I can only talk now with my vagina. I clench my muscles to get his attention, then I send a ripple through them.
'GOD FUCK YES,' he screams and as he screams his buck me and as they buck me his cock fires hard and fast.
I hold his cock as it softens.
At last his eyes open and he smiles, but quickly apologies, because he knows I did not cum.
'Sorry,' so easy to say.
I lie down on top of him, still holding him inside me, and kiss him.
'No need,' I whisper as we kiss, 'that was just for you.'
That's the sort of person I am, the kind of lover I am.
And besides, the night is still young, and he owes me one.
That's it, nothing else.
I'm kneeling astride my husband, who is sitting on the bed leaning against the pillows. He's naked too.
His cock is in my cunt. Not all of it, just the head.
We've been like this for, well I'm not sure exactly because checking the clock rather spoils the occasion, at least that is what I've found. Unless, of course, you want to put the guy under some pressure. Let's say 5 minutes, could be more, could be less.
I'm barely moving.
I will eventually, he knows that, and he's waiting, but waiting is half the pleasure, or maybe even more than half.
This began just after supper when I walked into the sitting room, fully clothed, but wearing this tie. He noticed rightaway and smiled at me. He knows something is going to happen when I wear this tie, but he is never sure what. The uncertainty adds to the pleasure, so I've found.
I wandered out and left him there. Let him wait, let him wonder.
When I came back, I was dressed just as I had been before, but this time without the dress. Now he could see the whole ensemble. Bra, thong, suspender belt, stockings.
I went about my business, clearing things up and taking them out to the kitchen.
When I came back, the bra had gone. He likes my tits, not that there is much of them, but they turn him on. Which is very gratifying for me after being married to him for this long. I stomp a little to make them bounce as I walk around the sofa, keeping clear of him. He mustn't touch. Not now, not later. He knows that. This is going to be all about him and he likes that. So do I, as it happens, otherwise I wouldn't do it. And that is very gratifying for him.
Let him wait for a while. There is no hurry. Which gives me time to stack the dishwasher. I hate coming down in the morning to a sink full of dirty dishes.
With the washing up sorted, I come back and stand in the doorway until he notices me. Still in thong, belt and stockings. He finally realises I am there, which is when I turn and walk away, upstairs.
He follows. Close. So close I can feel his breath on my buttocks. It's hot.
In the bedroom now, and I ignore him. This is my technique. No fancy dancing or slow reveal striptease. I'm no good at that. I just disrobe as if he were not there, making no attempt to turn either of us on. Which of course makes us both horny. He is the voyeur and I am the victim caught unawares. I unfasten the suspenders and wander around for a bit, straightening a chair, folding the clothes that he has discarded.
Time now to slip out of the thong. I turn my back and bend forward as I do so, a concession to his fetish, well one of them, giving him a good view of my ass. He may as well enjoy the view, because that is as close as he will get to it tonight. I pay him no attention as I place the thong into the basket for washing.
Another tour of the bedroom, suspenders swinging, white thigh flesh flexing.
He has no idea of what I am planning. Not yet. Let him guess. Let him enjoy guessing.
I sit on my stole and roll one stocking down my leg and over my toes. A quick trip to the laundry basket and it joins the thong. For variety, I put my foot on the end of the bed as I roll down the remaining stocking. I trail it along his leg and over his balls. He shivers as the silky material glides along his cock before heading up stomach to tickle his nipples.
A quick flick and it is away, landing in the bin. Perfect.
Which leaves me in my belt. He likes watching me stride around with those suspenders swinging, so I give him a treat and put on a parade for him. But all good things must come to an end, so I unfasten the belt and hang it over a chair. No need to wash that.
We are now both naked, apart from my bow tie. His cock is rigid with a nice curve. For those who are interested, it is not particularly long or thick, but it fills me nicely. I have no complaints about what he's packing or what he does with it.
This is where I started the blog, more or less. I climb astride and lower myself until his head is inside me. And there I stay. Not completely still. I move as I breath and, as time passes, I get a little unstable perched up on my knees, so I sway a bit.
He's not touched me, and he won't. He knows the rules and the consequence of disobeying them. I will walk away and leave him to sort himself out. He doesn't want that, however desperate he may get, what I do to him will be better, much better.
Time to move this along. Time to begin to circle, small at first, each getting larger as I swivel my hips. Still only gripping that head. He wants to thrust up, penetrate me deep, but he has to restrain himself. He can cum whenever he wants, that's fine, but he must just lie there and take it until he can't hold out any longer. As the circles widen, his cock is thrown around, I can feel it throbbing.
My thighs are burning. It's been some time since I did this, or did it for this long anyway. So, every so often, just to allow me to relax my muscles, I sink down the length of his shaft and grind a bit before climbing back up to the head. The first is swift. The next slow. Then I vary it, making sure he never knows quite what will happen next.
I'm sitting on his hips now, cock deep inside me, as I play with my nipples. Pulling, twisting, pinching. His eyes are following my fingers. I wait until his eyes come back to mine, and then I mouth a message to him. It is just one word, let out slowly. My mouth articulated its clearly, so there is no mistake. I change the intonation each time. My expression changes to match, my mouth moving to match.
'Fuck.'
That is all I say, over and over, in every different way.
I don't lose eye contact, but out of the corner of my eye I see his finger clutching at the sheet. Through my buttocks and thighs I feel him trembling. Inside my cunt, his cock is throbbing.
His eyes are closed now. No point mouthing words to him. I can only talk now with my vagina. I clench my muscles to get his attention, then I send a ripple through them.
'GOD FUCK YES,' he screams and as he screams his buck me and as they buck me his cock fires hard and fast.
I hold his cock as it softens.
At last his eyes open and he smiles, but quickly apologies, because he knows I did not cum.
'Sorry,' so easy to say.
I lie down on top of him, still holding him inside me, and kiss him.
'No need,' I whisper as we kiss, 'that was just for you.'
That's the sort of person I am, the kind of lover I am.
And besides, the night is still young, and he owes me one.