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The Wiener

By: CanIwatch



Edited by BlueEyed5thAngel

The first thing I ever put inside my wife's pussy besides myself was a hot dog. One of the many things I love about my wife is her willingness to try anything sexually I can think up. Her small five foot three inch frame has been put to the test on many occasions. So much so many times after I have had my orgasm, I would sit back and feel a small amount of regret or sorrow. Being called a sick bastard from some of my friends might have sunk into my head and sometimes I have a small amount of remorse after a sex session I know went south.

It is a weird feeling of lust I get when one of my fetishes does not get fed. Several times after we finish, I think to myself, I am never putting her through that again. Out of know where, a week goes by and I start thinking of it again. Two weeks, it is all I can think about and by the third week, my fetish gets fed. Then the process starts all over again. Even when I was single I always had those feelings and fetishes. Most of the time I could keep them under control by frequent masturbation sessions.

A few months after my wife and I got together I let her in on some of the less extreme fetishes I think about. Like this one night we were playing around and I had been stroking her clit very slowly and whispering dirty talk in her ear about how wet her pussy was getting. I asked her if she had ever fucked herself before. 

To my surprise, she answered, "Yes, a couple of times."

"What did you use?"

"My fingers," she answered after a short pause.

I was getting so excited, my dick was like solid steel and I was dry humping her leg like a young dog. I just had to see this for myself, so pressing it further I asked, "Would you show me?"

"I don't think so," was her quick response. 

I could tell this kind of talk was making her uneasy. I had to try another approach so I slowly pushed my middle finger into her very tight pussy before asking, "Have you ever used anything besides your fingers to fuck this pussy with?" 

That did it! I pushed to far. 

In one fluid motion she reached down, pulled my hand away from her pussy, got out of bed and looked me right in the eyes and protested, "I don't know what your thinking, but the only things that are going in my pussy are your fingers, your tongue and your dick, nothing else! Oh and by the way, while we are on this subject, I do not suck dick either." She added before stomping off into the bathroom without another word. 

I was stunned. I did not know what to say, so I said what any man would have said," What about anal sex?" 

She made no comment.

Since all this new information has come to light and staying with this chick would result in me never receiving another blow job for the rest of my life, I did the only thing I new to do, I married the bitch.   

With her promise of never giving head and never doing anything remotely kinky, our married sex life was not as bad as I thought it was going to be. I was able to talk her into the occasional quick blow job about once or twice a year. It either took a whole lot of begging and whining on my part or if she wanted to buy something she really liked, she would offer it up. 

The rules were simple. I could not put my hands on her head and if I ever wanted her to do it again, I had better tell her way in advance of when I was going to cum! The up side to it all, I was getting pussy every night and sometimes on rare occasion, twice! The problem was I still had it in my mind there was more to sex than me getting on top, pumping away for five to ten minutes, then having a smoke. This was not how I had it all pictured. I knew there was a sexed crazed slut in her somewhere and it was my job to bring it out!

That was when I came up with what I thought was my brilliant plan. This plan was going to make me or break me, but it was worth a shot. All I could do was cross my fingers and hope for the best. 

Friday night came and it was time to implement the plan. I was the first one home from work and set everything up for a romantic evening. Candle light dinner, wine, soft music and a fire. I even put a trail of rose peddles leading through the house to the bathroom and into the bathtub where she could bath in roses. 

Oh yeah, sick I know, but the mood had to be just right. 

The lights had to be just the right brightness so she could see herself in the mirror I had hung on the wall near the foot of the bed. She had to drink just the right amount of wine to take away her inhibitions but not be drunk. It had to be perfect or nothing at all. There was no room for plan B.

She arrived home in a good mood and was surprised to see how I had the house all done up. "Wow! You out did yourself. So what's the occasion?" She questioned.

"There's no occasion, I just wanted to show you how special you are to me and how much I love you. That's all!" I answered. 

We had a nice dinner then sat by the fire for some small talk, wine and cuddling. She then walked down the rose peddle path and got into the bathtub where there were candles light and yes, more wine. 

As I waited for her to return, I stripped down and got into bed hoping I would not blow the mood with what I was about to try. 

What happened next was not part of the plan!  

She came out of the bathroom in a sexy new red-laced teddy and posed for me at the door. 

"Wow!" was all I could say. 

Then she crawled into bed and without me asking or begging, began kissing along the shaft of my dick. I did not know what to do. She was sucking my dick! The light was perfect to see when she started to bob her head up and down. I could see my cock as it disappeared into her lovely sucking mouth. This was better than my plan so far. Without realizing it I was running my fingers through her hair and holding on to it. 

"Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to grab your hair." I said trying not to piss her off. I sure did not want her to stop.

"It's ok, you can grab it if you want." She said with a slutty little grin.

"What did this chick do with my wife?" I asked myself, but at this point, I really did not care. 

So I did what she said. I gently grabbed a hand full of hair and at first just held it. The longer and harder she sucked the tighter my grip got and the more force I was pushing down on her head until she was taking my whole cock down her throat.

After a little over a year of marriage, this was the first time she had ever done this and of course, I could not last long enough to enjoy it to its fullest. 

"Oh shit I'm about to cum!" I shouted.

She lifted her head off my twitching cock and said, "We can't have that. It's your turn to service me now."

I did just that, the plan was back on track now. Damn I would love to have shot my cum down her throat, maybe next time.

I tongue fucked her pussy for what seamed like an hour. I never put a finger in it because I wanted her to ask. I sucked on her clit, spread her pussy lips apart and stuck my fat tongue in as far as I could, when she asked, "Please use your fingers baby."

This was it, the moment of truth!

I slowly reached under the blanket and found 'it'. I had placed it there when she was in the bathtub. I even went as far to put a condom on it because I did not know if it would sting or feel weird, so I took precautions. I gently spread her pussy lips back apart and in the dim light you could see her dampness from the licking I had just given her. Then I placed it right at the entrance of her pussy and with one fluid motion, pushed the hot dog in all the way. Before she could say anything, I placed my mouth back on her clit and started to suck. She started to trash her hips up and down and I started to really fuck her hard and fast with that little wiener. 

"Oh my God, That's not your fingers, what is that?" She asked while lifting her hips to meet my thrusts.

I stopped sucking her clit just long enough to answer, "It's a hot dog" and went right back to what I was doing.

She said something I have always wanted her to say. "Oh yes, fuck me with that hot dog."

That's just what I did, I fucked the shit out of her with that hot dog. I moved out of the way so she could see me slamming that round piece of meat in and out of her hole in the mirror I had hung up earlier. 

She really got off on that. "Oh yea, keep fucking me, I'm going to cum."

That was when phase two of the plan kicked in. Right in the middle of her begging me to fuck her harder and with her on the verge of cumming, I stopped and told her to do it herself for a second while I got on the other side of the bed. I do not know if it was because of the four glasses of wine or because she needed to cum so badly, but without missing a beat, she took hold of the wiener and started ramming it harder and faster than I had been, into her pink little pussy. With her other hand, she reached down and started frigging her clit like a mad woman. It did not look to me like this was her first time doing this.

It worked! I finally got to see my prudish wife fuck herself and damn was she fucking herself! My dick was like steel. I could not help myself, and started stroking my cock as fast as she was stroking that hot dog in her slippery hole. 

"I'm cumming I'm cumming I'm cumming!" She yelled out staring straight at my hand flying up and down my dick while a huge load of cum erupted all over her stomach and chest. One glob of cum hit her chin, but she did not even noticed.

Catching our breath we sat in silence for several minutes while we both watched the cum splatters start to dry. 

She finally said, "Wow, you made a mess."

"That was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. What did you think about it?" I asked.

"It was not that bad," She said as a matter of fact. "But, can we use something a little bigger next time?"

"I don't see a problem in that at all," I smirked, grinning from ear to ear.

The Wiener Connection



You want to know something pathetic? Imagine you're a middle-aged man. You're slowing down. A little. But you've got this new, cock-crazy, nymphomaniac of an on-line girlfriend who wants to get off with you every night. She pouts you a kiss, her sensuous red lips framed by shoulder length curls of silky black hair. Then she tells you, "as soon as my husband falls asleep, I'll meet up with you here. Can you wait twenty minutes or so?" 

You say yes, even though you are tired, because your new Cyber-girlie is volcano hot! But she is more than just that. You are rigid in your faith that the two of you share an ethereal, otherworldly, spiritual... connection. Yes, that's it. You connect with this girl in ways you had never imagined, a soul-fusing connection that rushes fire to your muscle and heat to your bone. So, you wait.

And you wait.

And you wait.

You give your head a vigorous shake, like a swimmer clearing water trapped in his ears. Bleary-eyed, you glance up at the clock on the wall. It's one a.m., you're naked, and the furniture is swaying. The ottoman tipped over an hour ago, and now you swear you can hear it snoring. 

At a quarter past screw-it, you look down at your cock. You shake your head again, and then for good measure you flap it around. "By god, there's a pulse!" you exclaim, thankful if only for this lone stroke of luck. Then you follow that up with several strokes more. Before long, a chorus of trumpets is blaring. Invisible fans unite in a cheer for the ages, as Rocky Balboa slowly rises from flat on the floor. 

Tick tock, tick tock. Yawn.

Searching for something on Hulu to watch, you happen upon an old episode of Will & Grace. "Okay, cool." You say it out loud to make sure you're awake. "I can give the sexiest vixen alive twenty-two minutes more." Such is the powerful hold of otherworldly connection. 

But now your stomach, that well-rounded advisor who never betrays you, informs you you're hungry. So you drag your septembering cock into the kitchen to make a sandwich, or anything fast. You swing open the refrigerator door at precisely the moment your vixen rings out that she's finally back. Somewhere adrift in the sea of your mind, island-tanned breasts nipple your face; a pink slit of hope, slowly unfurling, shimmers and sings you her sweet siren song. 

Ring! Ring! Rrrring! 

Your dick swells to erection in pavlovian response, pointing you back to your laptop world. 

"But you're fucking starving!" your stomach reminds you.

Forces at war set your body trembling. You snatch at the first thing you happen to see: a package of Ball Park Franks torn open sometime last week. The franks don't look very fresh, but there's no time to waste. Buns, ketchup, mayo, mustard. Check. You toss everything onto a tray as fast as you can, then shimmy on back to your digital date. You set your tray on the end table, just out of sight, thinking you can dress a hot dog or two and eat on the sly while she's busy rubbing her clit or selecting just the right vibe. But all this thinking lulls Rocky Balboa back into penile soft slumber.

That's when your, "Aha!" moment arrives.

You swivel your camera upward a bit. Then you pull a stale wiener from its plastic wrap pack. You carve a circumferential groove into its flesh with a knife, an inch or so from the tip—all off camera, of course. Next, you tuck your limp dick between your thighs and stuff your sculpted wiener, hardened with age, into your lap in its place. You soften the focus a tad more than a little before aiming your camera back to Cyber-girlie's favorite hotspot locale. 

And then you go through the motions. On-camera fingers slicken with chilled wiener juice, while your off-camera hand assembles your late night snack.

Covert culinary creation complete, you sneak a bite and then a glance at Hulu. You recognize the episode that is playing. It's the one where Grace tries on the revolutionary new WaterBra. You LOVE that episode! It's now at the part where her bra has just sprung a leak while she's inside the watercolor exhibit of a snooty art gallery.

This strikes you as funny. More so than ever before.

You're suppressing a laugh while your spiritual connection is bounce, bounce, bouncing on her suction cup dildo. Her raven-black hair swishes to as her golden nipple chain lashes fro. Soon, all thoughts of laughter are completely consumed in the swaying rhythm of her naked, toned torso. 

But oh! That nut ball Grace springs another leak. And then another. And then Will plugs a leak with his hand on her boob... and that's when you lose it.

You lunge to your left to cut off the mike, but you're not fast enough. A half-second burst of your laughter peals in Cyber-girlie's ears before guillotine silence slices it dead. She freezes. Her eyebrows pinch down to an unbroken V. It takes no effort at all to read her lips when, in slow motion silence, she mouths, "what...the...FUCK?" The gallows swing of her nipple chain creaks slowly to rest as she continues to glare. Your otherworldly connection is now decidedly more ethereal than spiritual.

And then there's another leak! Now, water is gushing from Grace's left boob, drenching the painting she was admiring just seconds ago. What was once ethereal beauty is now smearing and dribbling in rivulets of mud as it runs down the wall. 

Like an orgasm you can hold back not one second more, you throw back your head and let yourself explode in a cackling, storm of laughter. Your chest heaves and it shudders, tears well in your eyes, and your face glows red from the blasts of your laughter. You're laughing hysterically at the Will-and-Grace mess you're in now. Meanwhile, some crazy, delusional demon within you clings fast to the fantasy it can reign you back in and explain away...everything. But your thrashing has upended your condiment tray. A toppling mayonnaise jar bangs against the edge of the table, launching a shower of jiggly white goo that spatters in ribbons and splotches on your crotch and your thighs.

You're screwed and you know it. But your demon is cunning and thinks lightning quick. He has you flick on the mike while you're still gasping and groaning and panting for breath. Commanded once more, you roar out your mandated strains of ecstasy. "Ohhh, yesss! Baby, yesss! Uhh! Uhh! Uhh! [theatrical pause] Uhh! Uhh! Uhh! [theatrical pause] Ooooo...Aaahhhh!" All the while, the non-demon You fights down the urge to say the "theatrical pause" part.

She's not buying any of it. Across six thousand miles of ethereal space, your spiritual connection stares bloodstained daggers into your face.

Your groans of "ecstasy" are so passionately loud, your slobbering Rottweiler Max bounds into the room thinking it's playtime of a whole other kind. But then he smells food. Cyber-girlie's mouth gapes wide at pure insanity now, her breasts hidden behind the smash of her elbows. With eyes clamping shut, she pulls clumps of her hair in her fists. The moment she dares to re-open her eyes, Max leaps into your lap and begins licking mayo splatter off of your thighs. Then he bites your wiener in half and prances off camera with it clenched in his teeth.

Tick tock. Tick tock. 

Somewhere out west a tumbleweed blows across a dusty dirt road of a long forgotten town. 

Tick...tick...tick....

"So... are we still on for tomorrow night?" you ask in the moment before your chat window snaps icy cold black. And then bold letters blink up at you from Hell's darkest abyss: Connection Terminated.

- End -