43 comments/ 61591 views/ 1 favorites Abed By: MungoParkIII "At night, alone, I marry the bed…"                                 Anne Sexton It started as wonderfully as any marriage could begin and the time we spent abed was marked by seemingly endless passion as I wrapped myself around her, as if to consume her. I remember my favorite times were often after I was spent like so many rumpled sheets, and she'd climb upon me delighting me as I watched her pleasure herself. Sometimes she would simply grind herself upon me, running her pussy over me, sliding as her wetness coated me. It was almost a dance the way her hips and ass moved. I loved the way the lips of her pussy rolled over me, her clit glistening in the juices. When she came she'd collapse upon me, her weight pressing me downward as I felt her shudder in the ecstasy. Other times she would lean back on me and spreading her legs wide, letting me see all of her as she slowly began teasing herself, starting with her breasts, running her palms in circles over her nipples. I watched the dark nubs stiffen and, as much as I wanted to take them, I'd remain still as she touched them just as she wanted to be touched, just as she needed to be handled. She teased her nipples for an eternity before her hands slid down her stomach, over her dark, curling hair and with one hand she'd pull her lips apart, reaching for her clit with the other. Her fingers would slide down her slit, slip inside and then return to her clit, glistening in her wetness. Sometimes she came quickly, pumping her hips as her fingers circled over her clit, arching her back and moaning loudly as the pleasure shot through her body. It was amazing how I could feel that intensity as she moved on top of me. Other times she would draw out the pleasure, pausing, resting her head on me as her fingers stopped and the sensations faded. She would then push her fingers into pussy as deeply as she could, working them in and out as I watched her lips purse in and out with her fingers, the wetness sparkling in the light. With her fingers now soaking wet, she'd return to her clit and begin that divine circling motion again. We could go for hours like that, she in ecstasy and me, beneath her, a part of it all. Strangely, just at a time when I thought we couldn't be happier together, she began staying out late, occasionally spending the night "at a friend's." I was torn, but decided I could suffer the time alone because she did always return to me and while our intimacy faded a bit, just feeling her warmth as I wrapped her at night was enough for me. She would smell of someone else, but I ignored it all settling for my time with her. I tell myself it was for me that she brought her first lover home, perhaps as a way of letting us experiment together. That first night she eased me into the idea as she sat by me completely clothed and pulled her lover to stand in front of her. I watched as she slowly unzipped his pants and eased his cock out. Glancing over at me, slipped her tongue out between her lips and ran it over the head, sliding to the tiny hole and slurping in the clear precum that had welled there. Drawing her head back a bit I could see the fluid dangle between his cock and her tongue for a moment until the strand broke and dripped onto her chin. Grasping his shaft with one hand and grabbing his balls with the other, she slid her mouth over the head, taking it in as far as she could. I heard the loud slurping sounds coming from her mouth as she began bobbing her head up and down upon him, her cheeks pulling inward with the intense suction. The man closed his eyes and began moving his hips back and forth, pushing his cock to her as if to drive it deeper and deeper into her mouth. I could feel the damp heat from them and could smell the sweaty smell of his balls as she continued to suck him, moving her hand up and down his shaft faster and faster. From the man's movements and groans I knew he was close to coming, but I didn't expect what happened next. She suddenly pulled her head away while continuing to pump his cock with her hand as he came, spurting his warm, white cum all over me. In spite of my obvious aversion, she continued pumping him, letting the last of his cum dribble onto me as she giggled loudly. She then let him pull away and zip up before walking him to the door. Only then did she return and clean the man's cum off of me with a damp towel. Oddly, she then removed her clothes, pulled mine away and then dove on top of me with a passion I remembered from our first few nights together. We later fell asleep, entwined in the sheets. I must admit, it was a bit exciting the way it happened at first, but it continued and it changed. There were other men, sometimes more than one and while I could always watch, the excitement often became humiliation as she let the men touch her and have her in ways I never could. Before long my involvement waned as I became but a wrinkled bystander and after seeing her brought to orgasm after orgasm, after watching her filled with cum, after seeing and feeling that cum ooze out onto me the most I could do was slide up next to her as she slept with her lover. Loosing count of her lovers, I continued being amazed at how many different ways she found do be fucked in front of me. I watched the cocks slide in and out of her mouth, her ass, her pussy, her armpits, her hair, between her breasts, in the crook at the back of her knee and one man, with a very small cock actually tried to fuck her ear. My only consolation was that she didn't leave, each night she came back to me. I would be covered in her and her lover's mingled cum as it oozed out of her, but she was there with me. Wanting more, I knew there was nothing I could do. I had become a piece of furniture to her, a bed for her and her naked lovers to frolic in, a headboard for her to grasp as the men pummeled her, banging me against the wall, a sheet for them to ooze their hot, stinking cum onto, and something soft for them to sleep upon as they dreamed of more lascivious things to do to each other as I watched. I wanted to hate her, to deny her my love but I never could. It always seemed when I was my most resolute, when I was most prepared to simply ignore her, she would spend the night alone with me, rolling her body over me, sliding her breast and pussy through my wrinkles, moving over me so I creaked and groaned with her every movement. I forgive myself the cliché when I think, "Love conquers all," and since I love her I will endure her nights of lovers just to have her wake upon me. Each morning I forgive her as she so gently makes me, carefully brushing out the wrinkles and ever so softly tucking the spread under my pillows. She'll then drift off to work while I dream of once again being abed with only her. Abed Ch. 02 The boys and girls are one tonight. They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies. They take off shoes. They turn off the light. The glimmering creatures are full of lies. They are eating each other. They are overfed. At night, alone, I marry the bed.                               Anne Sexton It has always been one of my ways to spend a night between a person's sheets before letting myself think that I understand him or her, much less to criticize that person. I guess that is why I am shocked at the general attitude I receive when I describe my marriage in such lovingly intimate detail. It is so amazing how anyone can judge me for remaining as silent as a bedpost as she brings home lover after lover. Sure there are times I get tired of being treated like furniture, but how can I or anyone else expect anything different. I mean it is clear, she owns me, as a matter of fact she keeps proof of that locked away in her closet. So yes, I have to simply watch as she slowly guides another man's cock between her legs, I have to feel her movement as he drives her against me with each thrust, or even worse, when she is on top, driving his ass against me. I watch and feel the cum spray across me, feel the dampness of their sweat, saliva and sex. Sure, occasionally I'll groan and complain, but in the end it's only so much squeaking and banging on the wall. But that's my problem, not anyone else's. Hell I don't see anyone complaining about the sofa and damn, from what I can see in the mirror near the doorway, she has done things with men on that sofa that I know are illegal in several states. I imagine if Kafka's cockroach would hide beneath that sofa it would have some amazingly promiscuous tales to tell. But no, no one has anything to say about the sofa. And hell the carpet, it had left more rug burns on knees and asses during her escapades than I could count on my legs. Even the carpet cleaners are amazed at the stains and still I get all the grief. Then there is the table, yes, the kitchen table, I can tell you of a Thanksgiving where the entire feast hit the floor as some guy filled her with his own special stuffing. I heard the turkey was dry that year, but she certainly made sure her lover was well basted in her juices. Of course what pisses me off are those who insinuate that I am lacking something, calling me a wimp husband. Well, let me tell everyone here, I am king size, not a tiny twin size or queen size, I am a full blooded king size. Can any of you limp dicks out there who are criticizing me honestly call yourselves "king size?" No, I thought not. Not only am I king size, but I am an honest to god Serta Perfect. Not "sorta perfect," I am Serta Perfect in every way. So sure she plays around scooting others around the floor, in the end, when the lights go out, she sleeps quietly in my grasp. Now, that's true love. It might even be different if she would settle down and just fuck one man in front of me, then I might question our relationship, might be afraid I'd end up on the curb, or in the back of some truck or in the junk yard, but no, she plays the field when she plays around. You know, she's even been known to bring the occasional woman home, something I'll never complain about. It is her playing around that keeps me secure in the knowledge she'll always end up in my arms, no man can give her what I can. In closing, I do admit that it does bother me some, having to witness all this, feeling it happen all over me and though I do enjoy the times we do frolic alone, it still hurts me some each time she shows up with another lover. I have tried to take the high road, forgive her for her lusts, but frankly, being treated like just another piece of furniture does wear on me. I must now confess that I have, in fact, lashed out at her and each one of her lovers. Now I don't have the means to blow them all away like some might want, nor am I capable of really standing up to any of them, but in spite of all that, I'm sure you'll agree my revenge, though subtle, is wonderfully insidious. It seems almost poetic that I can sum up my plan of revenge in a single word: BEDBUGS!