6 comments/ 167328 views/ 0 favorites Exhausted by Hubby Ch. 01 By: angela146 * * * * * Click here to hear GypsyWitch tell Angela146's story.(4.25 min/RealMedia) You need Real Player to listen to this file. * * * * * This was one of my early stories. When I wrote it, I was still struggling with the idea of talking about my kinky side, even anonymously. This was the story that brought me "out", with my husband's help. I wrote the first draft of chapter 1 on the evening of the day it happened. It was after hubby had challenged me in the morning and just before I had to give him my answer in the evening. Mid-summer... Wednesday morning... A dilemma. This morning, I woke up to hubby leaning over me and kissing me as he stood beside the bed. The first impression was of the smell: fresh out of the shower with more than a hint of masculine sweat. I was instantly ready to start my morning touching, but he stopped me. "No touching today, sweetie." I was about ready to strangle him when he laughed and said, "If you're a good girl today, I'll give you something this evening to write about." I had mixed feelings. I was frustrated at the thought of not touching all day but I was turned on by the fact that he was being dominant. "Good girl" is so emotionally charged... It's playfully patronizing. It's mild enough that I know he's taking charge without being overbearing or overly harsh. He wants me to be submissive but to have fun with it. "OK," I said, already thinking ahead to what he might have in mind. Part of me was also reassured that he was comfortable with my writing about our sexual exploits. The icing on the cake was that he was going to "give me something to write about". It meant he was going to make it really good. "There's just one thing," he continued, "you have to write the whole story, not a sanitized version". That gave my stomach a knot. So far, the incidents I've written about have been pretty tame. While they were embarrassing to share, they didn't include anything that was all that kinky. I've also been writing summaries and haven't gone into any explicit details about exactly what was said or exactly where our fingers traveled. Many of the details wouldn't make much sense, unless you knew us and knew our history with each other. So, I wasn't happy about the idea of being more explicit in future stories. I sat up and said, "No, I'm not going to write about which finger I use to stroke exactly which millimeter of my anatomy..." He cut me off with a reassuring touch of his hand. "I agree. What I'm talking about is the part you left out of your story, at the end of our wakeup session the other day." The knot tightened. There was, in fact, exactly one thing that I left out of that "incident"; one little tidbit that a reader might have wanted to know but that I hadn't wanted to share. When I wrote, "all the while caressing with his hand", that wasn't quite true. At the very end, his hand wasn't "caressing" my bottom; it was doing something else to it. There was a hint or two but I didn't come out and say it... and I still won't. Of course, my husband doesn't have to read between any lines. He knows exactly where my buttons are and he knows exactly how to push them. He's given me a dilemma. There are a number of things that we do with each other that would be really difficult to share. If I agree to write about whatever he does, I'm absolutely sure it will be a night to remember. I'm just as sure it will include something that I truly enjoy but would be horrified to have to write about. It's that tension that's really turning me on right now. So what do I do? Well I pondered for a moment while he was still there, leaning over the bed. He made it easier by saying, "You don't have to decide right now. Just tell me what you want to do, when we talk later today. If you decide not to write about it, we'll just go to bed and do our usual." He kissed my forehead and I felt my skin blushing. He had me wrapped around his little finger. He knew it; I knew it... and (God damned fucking bastard) I love him when he does this... He went downstairs. I lay back down and thought about it. Then, I upped the ante. I wasn't a good girl. I haven't told him yet but he knows. Hell, we both knew from the moment he said "good girl... no touching". As I came, I cried into the pillow. I love this man more than you could possible understand. Now the story will have a different twist -if I agree to write about it. Oh, boy! Was I was a bad girl. So, here I sit in front of my computer at 8:30 in the evening still having not decided if I'm going to agree to his terms. Of course, we both know what that decision is going to be don't we. Wish me luck. Exhausted by Hubby Ch. 02 * * * * * Click here to hear GypsyWitch tell Angela146's story.(13.5 min/RealMedia) You need Real Player to listen to this file. * * * * * Part II. Written Thursday morning ... The morning after. One of the many nice things about being in a good marriage is that you have someone who will push you; get you to do things that you want to do... but you're reluctant to do. For me, it's my writing. I've wanted to share some of my intimate, personal life with someone... not one of my friends... I really can't do that. There're too many risks. Even our closest friends, even the people we've share our bedroom with, don't see us as we really are. We open up with them about "normal sex" but we don't share the really deep passionate part of ourselves. The kinky side. But I have this incredibly good husband who drives me wild. And good things in life need to be shared. Writing and posting these stories is my way of sharing it. I'm safe with you. You and I are mutually anonymous. You don't know my real name or where I live. You and I will never meet. You could be a man, a woman, young, old, married, single, attached, gay, lesbian, straight, bi... I don't know. All I know is that you like erotic stories and you apparently don't mind suffering through the ramblings of woman who wants to explore her feelings. Of course, maybe you skip over the ramblings and go directly to the "fun" part, but then, you wouldn't be hearing this sentence would you? You're different from most people in that you're pretty much accepting of the kinds of things I'm talking about. You don't have a false picture of me as a sweet, wholesome wife or a professional career woman or whatever. All you know about me is what I tell you in my stories. Even so, it's difficult for me to write about stuff that's so private and kinky. The fact that my husband "forced" me to agree to write this (before doing it) made it easier. Deep down, of course I know that I don't have to tell you anything. Yes, I agreed to, but hubby would let me out of that "deal" if he thought I really wanted out. But he isn't letting me off the hook, even though I'm begging and pleading with him to not have to share this with you. Am I making any sense? Oh... one last thing: In my stories so far, I've been [I]very[/I] submissive and allowing him to do some, well, un-feminist stuff with me. If you believe in the equality of men and women, you may find yourself gritting your teeth. Don't worry, in some of my stories I'll eventually share the other side of things and show you that I take charge now and then. Despite appearances, our relationship is really one between two equals. We aren't some kind of "domestic discipline" couple. I don't surrender my autonomy to him out of some sort of belief in a wife's duty. I do it because it turns me on. In fact, I take charge of things as often as he does. OK, maybe not as often, but often enough. Some of the things that he did to me last night are things that I do to him at other times. OK, I'm not just rambling, I'm stalling. (Yes, dear, I'll start writing now). Here's what happened last night: It was 9 o'clock, right after I wrote the draft of chapter one. I took a deep breath and went into the living room to sit next to hubby on the couch. I kissed him on the cheek, he muted the TV and we looked at each other. I broke the silence and asked, "If I do this, are you going to be nice?" He chuckled and said, "Not entirely". He wasn't making it any easier. "You already wrote about how I 'forced myself' on you that one time... what's the problem?" [I know, I haven't shared that story with you, yet, but I will]. I tucked myself under his arm and was quiet for a while as he held me and waited. "That was something I did for you... This is something you're doing for me." He understood as well as I did, "It's harder to admit to that you enjoy something really kinky. Giving yourself to me was a noble sacrifice. This is just plain hedonistic." After another minute, I sat up. "OK... I'll do it..." I wanted to ask him not to humiliate me too much but it wouldn't have helped. I had to put myself in his hands and let him decide. He sent me upstairs, telling me he had already laid out something for me to wear. As I walked up the stairs, I started to feel giddy. I stopped and blew him a kiss. "Oh, we're going to start in the 'other' room and move to the guest room, " he said as I reached the top of the stairs. I wasn't surprised. "Our" bedroom has a waterbed. The guestroom has a normal bed (both are king sized). The "other" bedroom (the third bedroom) has a futon. If we're going to be adventurous, it's easier to use the other room. The futon is like a couch with a slight back-tilt to it. It's good for positions where I'm straddling him. The guest room is useful for lying down but not having to keep balanced as we would on the waterbed. No, we don't have children. We have a three-bedroom house all to ourselves. I went to our room and picked up a couple of things, including some perfume, and went into the bathroom. I almost cried when I saw that he already had a small bottle of the same perfume (Poisson) sitting the counter. I have three that I normally wear, depending on the mood. Apparently, he knew what mood I was in. I stripped and freshened up, putting on only a little bit of makeup. Lipstick, however, is a definite requirement. He likes the texture and even the smell (the smell reminds him of crayons). I then closed the door to see what he had on the back of it for me to wear. It was a little bit of a surprise. I had thought he would have me in a babydoll but he had chosen my pair of midnight-blue satin PJs. The top is a big-shirt with buttons down the front and the bottom is a simple pair of pull-on pants. I thought for a moment and decided to overrule him a little. He hadn't included the matching satin bra and panties nor the heeled slippers. I went and got them and a contrasting maroon satin short robe. It would be a lot of layers for him to remove. I thought about you, whoever you are, as I stood in front of the mirror, naked, about to get dressed for bed. I haven't told you much about what I look like and I'm going to keep it that way for the moment. However, I will say that I'm a "full figured" woman, with shoulder-length brunette hair. The perfume went on first, very light and strategically located. Hubby has a very sensitive nose so I don't use much. With that done, I put on the panties, bra, PJ bottoms, top and slippers. I arranged everything for best effect and then slipped on the robe. Men generally like women in heels. There are a lot of reasons. In hubby's case, he likes the way it accents my hips and brings a certain area of my frontal anatomy forward. He also likes the way I walk. Besides that, there is one other aspect of heels, which I'll discuss later. Hubby didn't think of it when he set out my outfit, but I knew he would appreciate it when the time came. That thought made me jittery as I remembered where all of this was heading. I wasn't just going to get laid. There was other business to be attended to. I thought for a moment that maybe he didn't know I was a bad girl, and that's why he forgot the slippers. That lasted for only a couple of minutes, as I left the bathroom, walked back through the bedroom and entered the 'other' room. The moment I opened the door and walked in, I felt the cold. He had left the door shut and opened the A/C vents. I quickly closed the door to preserve the feeling. My nipples were going to be hard despite the summer weather and the layers of PJs. Then I saw the paddle and my pulse quickened. The knot also started to return to my stomach. Most women understand "the feeling" but I don't think most men get it. It's like having something squeezing every part of your body. I feel like I'm about to be lifted up by some powerful force and swept away at high speed on an invisible roller coaster. I knew I was going to loose control and have it "done to me". It's scary as hell but that's part of the pleasure. I like not having to decide anything and not having any choice in the matter. I give in, he takes over, and my body does the rest for me. I've been teasing you with this long enough, and you've figured it out by now anyway, so here goes: in addition to getting laid, I knew from the beginning that I was going to be spanked. Hubby and I are "somewhat" into SM. We like spanking and rough sex but not much more than that. Neither of us likes other kinds of pain. For me, I like the release and the warm burning sensation on my bottom and the backs of my legs. I also like being dominated, as long as it's for a short duration and I know that I'll get my free-will back when it's over. Again, enough stalling... the paddle: It's black, about the size of a ping-pong paddle but thicker, heavier and harder. It's specifically designed for use on bottoms, not ping-pong balls. On one side, it's flat and smooth. On the other side, it's furry and soft. You can use the furry side for a long time with a hard swing and it won't hurt. It's kind of like what a "Nerf Paddle" would be if there were such a thing. The hard side is deadly. Anything more than a light "tap" stings. A good swing hurts like hell. What's particularly nasty is when he uses the soft side really hard and then suddenly uses the hard side without warning. Five soft-side thuds followed by a hard-side smack is scary, especially when you don't know which one is going to be the hard one. Actually, that's my favorite thing to do [I]to him[/I]. He generally uses one side or the other and stays with it. The paddle was sitting on the end table, right next to the door. We normally keep it in the bedroom. The fact that it was right in front of me was a not-at-all-subtle sign. Now, how did I know I was going to be spanked? Of course the paddle was a give-a-way. But even if he hadn't planned on doing it, I had ensured it when I "touched" yesterday morning. He had told me to be a "good girl" and "no touching". The moment he was gone downstairs I did it anyway. I was planning on telling him if he didn't already know. When we first got into SM, we needed an excuse to punish each other, something that neither of us was really upset about but something that would be a bad-boy/bad-girl thing. We eventually agreed that we each needed to get the other's permission to masturbate if the other wasn't present to watch. I have blanket permission (pun intended) to do it in the morning after he leaves. I usually also do it in bed with him at night or near him when we're downstairs. Yes, I know, a woman masturbating twice a day. I have a high libido. Sometimes, I do it late in the afternoon just before he gets home. I deliberately try to time it so he might walk in on me. If he's too late, and arrives after the orgasm, he usually figures it out anyway. Those are the times that I get spanked. He does the same kind of thing in his own way when he wants it. By the way, if I really want to get off privately, I just start doing it earlier in the afternoon. If he figures out later, well... that's the way it is. So, even though I normally do it in the morning after he leaves for work, he told me yesterday morning that I wasn't allowed to. I then had a choice - and a very easy way of getting spanked. When I did it, I was setting myself up for a spanking. He had the paddle set out already, probably assuming I had done it. If I hadn't... Well, there really wasn't much chance of that, now was there? For my part, I was trying to focus this whole incident a little. I knew he was going to do something kinky to me so that I would be embarrassed when I wrote about it. This was a way of making it not too kinky but kinky enough. He still had the option of doing something else (or something in addition) and that kept things edgy. There were several other things he could do that would be much more difficult to write about. I was at his mercy. So, there I was in the "other room", wrapped in satin and ready for him. I was nervous. Every fiber of my body was on edge. He had me right where he wanted me - and right where I wanted to be. Then I heard him coming up the stairs and I started breathing heavy. Exhausted by Hubby Ch. 03 Written over Thursday and Friday. The events happened Wednesday Evening. OK, I'm going to ramble just a little bit more, and then I'll get on with it. When I originally wrote the first draft of this chapter, I realized something about my relationship with my husband. We don't actually talk to each other very much when we're having sex or getting ready to. When we do talk, it's usually to share fantasies or to light each other up by saying something erotic or reminding each other of things we've done or things we've thought about. It's hard to capture what we said to each other Wednesday night and write it down. There weren't many actual words that I can remember. Worse yet, most of what I can remember is stuff that I would have to explain to you. We "dance" with each other, knowing what we're going to do, knowing how we do it and not having to say much. So, I have a couple of options: I could write it the way it happened and explain everything as I go along. That would be really choppy and disjointed. Or, I could invent some dialog for the stuff that was unspoken - but that would feel unnatural. I'm choosing a middle ground. I took a tip from the movie "Finding Forester" and just wrote the first draft straight from the heart. Most of it was what I was feeling and what was going on in our minds. Some of it was dialog but not necessarily what we actually said. I didn't worry about that. The funny thing is that the first draft read as if we were communicating telepathically for part of it. Someone once said that a good marriage is like conjoined twins, joined at the mind. That's the real essence of our relationship. It feels like magic but that's the way it is. We react to what we know the other is thinking, sometimes without really knowing how we know. A lot of it is shared experience and some of it is non-verbal stuff that we aren't conscious of. Maybe some of it really is telepathy. Probably not, but it sounds romantic. When I was done with the first draft, I went back through and added some words to make sense of it all - since you aren't part of our collective mind. Most of those added words are the "whispers" (you'll understand in a moment). I hope it works. Please let me know. ---------------- Wednesday Evening ... continued... There was a feeling of impending dread as I listened to him coming up the stairs. I almost wanted to sit down, but then I also wanted to be on my feet to hug him when he walked into the room. The door opened - my breath caught as he walked in. He closed the door, reminding me somewhere in the back of my brain that I wasn't cold; despite the very cool A/C. He's a little taller than I am, even when I'm wearing heels. He had on his black silk boxers and matching black silk kimono robe. (That's something I worked on before we were even married: getting him to wear matching clothes). Oh, and he wasn't wearing anything else. The robe was partially open so his hairy chest was exposed. I went to him like a magnet and buried myself in that big hairy chest, purring and moaning as he wrapped his arms around me. "Hmmm you smell nice... and you feel nice." He said it quietly in my ear but since I was so close, it felt like thunder. He ran his hand up and down my back, enjoying the satin and pressing me into him as he gave me a back rub. There was a little chuckle as his hand crossed my bra. "Hmmm... girl stuff." It's funny how he can be so childish and so... so much of a hunk at the same time. I slipped my arms inside his robe so I could wrap them around his bare skin. He groaned, so I slid my hand down his back and just inside the waistband. Immediately, he took my arms away and put his hands at my sides. He held me out a little and I looked up at him. His face was a little annoyed - playfully annoyed. "That will be quite enough of that, young lady." I stepped back and looked down at my feet, trying to look contrite but failing miserably. I giggled. I felt giddy again. This was good. "I love you sweetie," I whispered, as I looked back up at him. To Hell with contrition - I wanted him to touch me. I swallowed hard and just looked up at him, anticipating. His face softened. He wanted this as much as I did and was having as much trouble trying to act serious. I didn't care one bit about being serious. "Now... you were not a good girl this morning, were you?" I laughed, "Of course not, silly, you knew I was going to do it as soon as you told me not to." We both smiled, looking at each other. He pointed to the floor in front of the futon. I walked over and stood there. "Back up", he said. I did. He sat down. I took that to mean I was going over his lap, so I moved to his side. He stopped me, whispering, "Nope, lose the bra." I went back to standing in front of him; now I was embarrassed. He sat back and relaxed, ready to enjoy the show, so I gave him one. I moved in close and shrugged the robe off of my shoulders (it was already open). He seemed to like that. Then I started to unbutton my top, staring at his eyes the whole time. His eyes, of course, were on my hands and what they were uncovering. When I finished unbuttoning, I opened the blouse and leaned over him, letting it gape open. The bra is smooth stretchy satin and shows a fair amount of cleavage. I leaned in a little more to give him a nice close view (and a good whiff of perfume). Then, I decided to go further. I nudged his legs together and straddled him, putting my hands on the cushion above his head. This was going to be a lap dance, with the exception that he was allowed to use his hands. He opened the blouse a little wider and put his hands on my sides. It felt good and I leaned in to kiss him. As I did, he moved his hands up to cup my breasts and slide his hands on the bra. I couldn't feel it as much as I wanted to, but I knew he was enjoying it. Our lips locked and our tongues started wrestling (toothpaste... he had brushed his teeth, that reminded me of where this all began). He moved his hands back and started to lift the blouse off of me. I lifted my arms and tried to make it easier, but it didn't work. I had to break the kiss and help him slide it off of my arms. I almost fell off of him onto the floor (yes, married couples get awkward sometimes). Anyway, that left me naked from the waist up, except for the bra. He took hold of my upper hips to steady me and I reached back to unhook it. (This is something I used to practice in front of a mirror when I was growing up. I love the sexiness of it and what it does to a man who's watching). Once the bra was unhooked, I brought my hands forward and slowly slid the straps off of my shoulders. I watched his face; he watched the cleavage. I decided to just let it drop into his lap. Well, that didn't work; I had to tug a little on the straps to get it out from underneath my breasts. At that point, I was freezing and my nipples were sticking out. He reached out to touch them. I rose up on my knees and leaned into him, pressing his warm face right in the middle. I felt his hands move to my back and down my sides and to the sides of my breasts. Then he put his hands on my bottom. I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him in. After a bit, he pushed me back and breathed a couple of times (yes, I can smother him in there if I want to). He nibbled each nipple briefly and then slid forward to push me off of the futon, back onto my feet. It was too soon for me, I wanted to keep going... but he was getting overheated. When he stood up, his erection was sticking out of the fly of his boxers. I reached out to stroke it but he stopped me and made me put my top back on. I did as he watched but now he was impatient. He didn't even let me button it, instead turning me back around to face the futon, with him standing to my left. That meant that my spanking was about to start, and that I would be leaning over the futon. He whispered, "I had planned on putting you over my lap, but I don't think I could handle it right now." I looked over at his boxers and confirmed that he truly was in no condition to have me over his lap (giggle). Then I noticed something behind him, to his left, on the opposite end table (the one farthest from the door, to the left of the futon). I was instantly frightened. I looked at him aghast. "No... you're not going to use that are you?" He smirked, knowing he had the upper hand (OK, knowing that he had even more of an upper hand). "Well that depends on your behavior." He picked up the paddle from the futon. Somehow he had laid it beside where he had been sitting. He tapped his hand with it, making a smacking noise. "If you behave, I'll only use this... otherwise..." He looked over his shoulder at the other thing. "No, honey, I can't." I panicked, I turned toward him and put my hands on his arms, resisting. He put his hand on my back and gently, but forcefully, turned me back toward the futon, leaning me forward to put my hands on the wall above it. I backed up and turned toward him again. He was still on my left side. "No! I can't write about that! There's too much... stuff... involved." I could feel the tears welling up. "PLEASE DON'T!" I cried. He set the paddle down on the futon in front of me and put his arms around me, turning me away from him. He was so strong but so gentle. He kissed the back of my neck and nibbled my ear lobe as his hands crisscrossed in front of me and moved inside the blouse to my breasts. He whispered, calming me down. "It's OK, sweetie," his words were barely louder than breathing. "I won't use it on you as long as you cooperate and don't give me any more trouble." I started breathing heavy, partly because his hands and body were turning me on and partly because I was scared. He wanted complete submission. The price for resistance was something I couldn't bare. I'm sorry, but I can't even bring myself to tell you what the thing sitting on the end table was. It's another thing that he uses to spank me sometimes. It doesn't hurt any more than the paddle; in fact it's a little less painful, physically. But... it has a lot of emotional baggage. It brings back some serious memories that I just do not want to share with anyone. I tried to get my breathing under control and tried to calm down. He was nibbling on my neck and saying soothing things in my ear like "it's all right, you can do it". I took a deep breath. He said, "If you relax and do exactly what I tell you, no arguments and no resistance, the [other thing] will stay right where it is." In the back of my mind, I understood. Somewhere along the line, he had to do something to make it uncomfortable and scary for me. I was getting used to the idea that I would be writing about the spanking, so that was losing a little of its edge. His added surprise put the edge right back into it. I was scared. It was an irrational fear. In the end, even if he did use it on me, he wouldn't force me to write about it. Well, he would, but I would have an out. Anyway, I felt exposed. I felt as if you were an invisible audience, munching popcorn while he was getting ready to paddle me. In addition to everything else, I had to be ultra-submissive. I usually complain, resist, put my hand behind me; all of the things you do when you get a hard spanking. This time, I had to cooperate, or the "audience" would find out what was sitting on the end table. I took a deep breath and stood up to the futon. I put both hands on the wall above it and kept my knees straight. Now for the part about the slippers: When I bend over the futon, the slippers elevate my hips and stretch my legs. It gives me just a little bit more of a "bottom in the air" feeling. We both like it. He likes the way it looks, I like the way it stretches me and I like the effect it has on him. He hadn't put the slippers in the bathroom because he was figuring on having me over his lap. I had assumed it would be like this but that he forgotten the slippers. He nudged me, telling me to move my feet apart. The paddle was still on the futon, right below me on the seat. I was staring down at it. He stepped up to me and put his left arm under my chest, inside the wide-open blouse, cupping my right side and pressing his arm below my breasts. It gave me a little bit of support and it let him hold me close to him. He slipped his right hand under the shirttail and slid his hand down to on my thigh. It was the first step of the "invasion". I closed my eyes and started breathing heavy. My knees were weak, no longer from fear but from excitement. He whispered, "I love how smooth this is." I felt his hand slide up, cupping my left thigh, until it reached the top, right where the panty line was. As he crossed that threshold, his fingertips stroked me between the legs. It was through two layers of satin but it was wonderful. I think I remember saying "Oh, God, Please!" His hand moved up and down, cupping my curve while his fingers caressed the very center of my, um... well, you know. I wanted his fingers to keep going, to Hell with everything else. SMACK - "Ahhhhhh!" My bottom stung. I didn't even notice him pull his hand back. It caught me off guard - SMACK, "Owwww!" Three more. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK "Owwwwwwwww". I couldn't think, couldn't get my bearing. He switched from caressing to spanking so suddenly that I couldn't shift gears. I started crying almost immediately. I couldn't get my "defense mechanisms" up to relax and take it. He had snuck in under my emotional radar and gotten to my fear right away. The spanks kept coming, just as hard, just as fast. They didn't let up for even a moment so I could catch my breath. I couldn't resist, couldn't even ask him to wait. I had to avoid that other thing. Thank God it was only his hand and thank God for the PJs and panties... at least for the moment. I usually count the swats in my head, but this time I didn't have time. I cringed, cried out loud, sobbed, and I hurt. I think he was surprised that I cried right away. It usually takes time to build up to that. I was also getting excited. His spanks were alternating back and forth, two on each side. On the left-side strokes, he was cupping just enough to put pressure between my legs; he didn't hurt me there but I felt the pulsing of his fingers probing me and getting me really turned on. Then he stopped. I have no idea how long it was. There was no rest, however. I had to stay in position. My PJ bottoms felt smooth going down to mid thigh - and immediately the swatting resumed. All of this spanking was with his hand. As before, he started so quickly that I didn't have time to prepare myself. These were stinging on the now-bare tops of my thighs and slapping my bottom through the panties. I started crying again. Actually, I don't know if I ever stopped. He kept going at the same speed and same pattern and same force. All through this, his other arm was under me, holding me and, now, caressing the side of my right breast as it dangled and swung in time with the spanks. He slid his hand over to cup it and ran his fingers over the nipple. I felt him very clearly groping me even though all the while he was still spanking relentlessly with his right hand. I also remember seeing the paddle on the seat as a reminder of things to come. His head leaned down behind my ear and nuzzled in my hair. I could hear him breath deeply through his nose, taking in my scent. He nipped me a little to the left of my neck, I think with his teeth. It was all too much. I was getting the electric feeling in my inner thighs. He could sense it too. He stopped spanking just long enough to slide the panties down and retrieve the paddle from underneath me. This time I was prepared and bit my lip as the first hard smack of the paddle landed on my bare bottom. Biting my lip didn't help. I screamed. My knees buckled but I forced them back. He kept going. These, I was able to count. They were much more painful but slower, probably one a second. And, there were only twelve of them. Each of them burned and made me scream in pain. When he stopped. I was able to catch my breath. He stood up, releasing my chest. He pulled the PJ bottoms and panties all the way off and told me to kneel into the futon. I did. I put my knees all the way into the cushion and held onto the top of the back of the frame. He removed the slippers. It tickled a little. I could feel the cool air on the back of my legs. He knelt beside me and put his hand back underneath. The closeness was intoxicating. Then I felt his fingers gently stroking the underside of my breasts again. This position is much more comfortable. I don't have my legs stretched and don't have to hold myself up as much. I closed my eyes and waited for the spanking to resume. Instead, I felt the soft furry side of the paddle on my lower thigh. It was climbing up my leg toward the center. On the way, it accentuated the burning sensation in my bottom and thighs. The stinging feeling adds more energy to it all. When the furry paddle reached the top, I could feel it all over my whole pubic area. With my knees tucked and my panties all the way off, my body was bare, and that whole section was completely exposed. The fur fluffed together with my fur and almost took me over the edge. My knees were even weaker. I started to slip downward and couldn't quite pull myself up. I felt the paddle move away and heard it thud on the floor. I breathed a sigh of relief. No more spanking. His hand replaced the paddle and held me back up. The pressure was nice. Then, almost immediately, his fingers pried my lips apart and opened me up. The instant he touched me there, I felt the climax begin. It started much faster than I'd expected. "More" I whispered and he did more. His hand went right to the source and drove me over the edge. His thumb (it had to have been his thumb) went inside and massaged from the other side. I lost it. I screamed, moaned, said all sorts of things - mostly incoherent - and I stopped worrying about holding myself up. His hand (behind me) and his arm (under me) supported me. It quickly became more intense than I could handle. I tried to pull forward but he "had hold" of me between the legs and kept with me. He pushed my building orgasm up and over the top. I came, I held it and then I relaxed. He didn't stop; he pushed me to another one and a third... I said, "OK, OK, OK... stop, Ooooohhhhhhh" and that was number four, "Nooooo, noooo, nooooooooooooo," and that was five. There was no sense of time. I think it took a lot longer than this, but who knows? "Wait wait wait wait wait, Araraagggghhhh", that was six. All the while he was doing this, he was also squeezing (make that groping) my breasts and hugging me to his body. He also had his head up by my ear and I could feel his breath on my neck. On top of that, he giggled a few times as I came. He loves torturing me. After the sixth one - I think - his fingers slowed down and stopped. They held still, in the same place, right on the center. [By "the center" I mean right on the spot where it would make me go nuts if he moved. I think it's the underside of the clit. I don't really know. It doesn't feel like that when I do it]. I breathed deeply for a few breaths. Just before I was ready, he flicked his fingers for an instant and sent me over the edge again. Then he kept the pressure up but didn't move. I rode the wave of number... seven... I think, but who's counting [I found out later that he was, damn him]. My legs tightened and I leaned back into his hand. I came again from that and took a couple of breaths... Again, just before I was ready, he flicked his fingers and thumb again, just for an instant of motion, then stopped. I went right over the edge again. Exhausted by Hubby Ch. 03 It's like coasting on a bicycle; just a little push and you go over the hill and down the other side. Then one more little push and you're over the next. He did it again and again until my muscles ached. At this point, I was doing all of the work. He flicked my "button" and my muscles and body did the rest. Thank God he was holding me up. The palm of his hand and most of his fingers were cupping me and his thumb was still inside, squeezing. After some number of waves [he tells me it was a total of fourteen, six big ones at the beginning and eight "flicks", I can't argue, I really don't know] anyway, after about three too many, he finally stopped. I was done. I relaxed and tried to roll over onto the futon. He held me in place somehow and said, "Stay there". I did, although I was barely able to keep my balance while he twisted for a moment. His hand returned underneath my chest and I relaxed. Then, SMACK SMACK SMACK (Oh, my God! He was using "that other thing"!), SMACK, SMACK. I cried. I was in shock, but it was over before I knew it. I tried to look up at him, but he held me and whispered, "It's OK, you don't have to tell them." I felt a wave of relief, but, still, I groaned, "You, bastard!" and then started laughing hysterically. I thought I was done after the five swats, but I should have known better... [He told me later that my paddling was much shorter than he had originally planned. You can plan a sexual encounter all you want, but you have to be ready to ditch the plan when your lover doesn't react as you expect. He said that I was dripping wet and I was ready to come long before the spanking was over. I don't doubt it, especially since I did start coming as soon as his fingers were on me. He stopped the spanking after just twelve paddle-swats because it was "time for my orgasm," as he put it.] Exhausted by Hubby Ch. 04 * * * * * Click Here to listen muse33 tell angela146's story. (10.25 min/RealMedia) * * * * * A lot of authors post the first chapter of a story and tell you that there are more to come. Just to be different, I decided to post the final chapter of this story first. The other chapters will follow, in some sequence yet to be determined. Many thanks to Muse33 for creating the audio version of this story. I was exhausted. I'd had as much as I could take. He helped me off of the futon. My muscles were aching and I needed him to hold me up. He slid his arms under mine and wrapped them around me. That felt good and I lay my head on his chest, content to go to sleep right there (the fact that I was standing up didn't seem to matter for some reason). He, of course, had other ideas. Unfortunately, I'm too heavy for him to just carry into the bedroom, but the guest room is the next one down the hall so it wasn't much of a walk. He helped me get there and put me under the covers. I relaxed. It's incredible how good it feels to lay back and not have to expend any amount of energy. The afterglow was in full force. The mattress tilted slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed. I was in a daze, half awake/half asleep. Somewhere along the way, my PJ top had come off. Maybe he took it off of me as he helped me into bed, I don't know. All I know is that I was naked. I opened my eyes and realized that there were several candles lit in the room, and then noticed the smell of vanilla. He was looking down at me and admiring my body. It sent a shiver through me. I stretched and quivered. Then, his hand pressed lightly on my “V”. I arched a little. It felt good. "Ready?" he asked. "I don't actually need to do anything, do I?" His smile answered my question. He descended on me. We were now face to face with his body pressed lightly against mine. He had most of his weight on his elbows. I barely had enough energy to reach up with my fingers and touch his hips. His forearms slid under me and his hands gripped my shoulders from underneath. His lips were about two inches away and every other part of his body was touching me very gently. I could feel the head as it pressed against my still elevated mound. It slipped in just a small fraction, just enough to part me but not enough to enter. My legs instinctively opened and my knees bent slightly. They seemed to have energy all their own. I was lined up, secured in place and ready for the taking. He kissed me very softly, his tongue opening my upper lips the same way his shaft was opening the lower. My feet dug in and my hips rose a little more, taking him inside just a little. The sting in my bottom and thighs burned and excited me. I reached for him and took more. Now the head was inside me, but motionless except for his lips and tongue, barely exploring me. His arms were pressing my breasts together and compressing them into his chest. He broke the kiss. I opened my eyes and his face was right there. "This is for me," he said. I smiled. That meant that I was going to get it really good. It's funny how doing it for his own pleasure makes it so good for me too. Part of it is that he gets bigger and fills me more and part of it is just a matter of gusto. "I'm all yours." In one fluid motion, he pressed all of his weight on me, entered me, kissed me, pulled my shoulders down, invaded my mouth with his tongue and kept going. The weight of his thrust rocked my hips up and opened me wider. My knees and legs met him, giving him an anvil for his hammer. He filled me... and then he went deeper... and deeper... I gasped as he went past the dead end and into the tight, deep recesses of my secret cave. He didn't belong there. My body flinched; the pressure was intense, but I wanted it. I pushed harder to drive him deeper still, now feeling the lump against my lower bottom. One more thrust from him and the knob clicked in place. I squeezed, bearing down hard to keep him there. He groaned. He felt it. His tongue was filling my mouth, trying to reach the same place from the other end. My arms encircled him and I held on, completely lifting myself off of the bed. He stayed there for an eternity, expanding, pulsing slowly enjoying a long visit. His tongue withdrew, but only his tongue. His lips lifted just a fraction to break the kiss, while the rest of him was inside of me. From somewhere, I heard him whisper, "I got off about an hour ago. It's going to take a lot of work to do it again so soon." Some part of me that could actually move smiled and jumped for joy. The giddy feeling returned. I took a deep breath and squeezed my arms tighter, afraid to fall off. His arms wrapped me tighter still... and then he started... slamming in and out like a jackhammer over and over and over and over. He went faster and faster. Then I stared coming. The whole lower half of my body squeezed in unison like a bear crushing its prey to death. He had to be feeling that. He moaned louder. My convulsions continued along with his battering ram slamming into me, bruising me somewhere I'm sure. His pace slowed; my orgasm paused as he shifted gears; his strokes lengthened; the feeling became even more intense; my orgasm started up again. If I'd had any breath or any room in my mouth, I would have screamed. As it was, he did the screaming for me. My whole head was filled with the sound. I became light-headed and floated within my body, sampling all of the sensations and noting them one by one. Somewhere along the way, I felt my legs splay even farther and my feet went up in the air. I vaguely remembered something about breathing and that it was important for some reason. Ah, I'll deal with that later, I thought; right now I'm getting fucked. The orgasm flowed through the rest of my body. Every inch of skin on my scalp and arms tingled and quivered. His mouth released me briefly and I gasped for air three or four times. Ooooo, air, it tasted good... back to the kissing, his tongue and lips filled and sealed me again and still the fucking continued, now back to high speed. His screams turned deafening, still inside my head. He slammed harder and harder, faster and faster, trying so very hard to come... he couldn't... Another change in tempo... longer strokes, I'm still coming, by the way, fingernails digging into my back, my chest pushing up harder, he moaned again... another breathing break... the long strokes continued... he was frustrated... he sped up, keeping the long strokes; there was a lot of friction now; it felt like he was going to start a fire... I dug my fingernails hard into his back, drawing a line alongside his spine from his neck to his tailbone... he screamed and fucked even harder and faster... that did it... I'm still coming, by the way... Over the edge... his point of no return... another release for my mouth, more gasps, the cry of a suffering soul released to salvation... was that me or him? The tongue re-invades, the lips re-seal and more thrusts... his voice now angry and violent in my head... victory... the spoils of war... claiming of his prize... shivering, throbbing, probing and wet sloppy squirting of a fire hose inside my lower body... I'm still coming, by the way... That moment lasts another eternity. His lips release; his tongue exits, I drink more air, feeling the full hit of the drug: Oxygen, it's a wonderful thing... another orgasm... or maybe the same one... His body collapses, flat on top of me, he groans in intense pleasure, something about loving me or something... whatever... I'll figure it out later... Splat. He's drooling... No... giggle... he's licking my face. Oh, God I love him... I should tell him that some time when I have a moment... For a brief moment, the practical side of me kicks in. Are all of my limbs still attached? Yup... Am I breathing? Yup... Am I leaking anywhere? Nope... OK, the rest can wait... and... by the way... I'm still coming... and... he's still inside me, still throbbing... I lick back, tasting his face, his cheek, his neck, biting his neck; it tastes good. He yelps. Who cares? I wrap my arms back around him and throw him on his side. We face each other and kiss. My face is wet. "I'm sorry I didn't make you come," he says. I hit him, hard, somewhere on the arm I think. In my mind, I try to decide if it was, still is, actually, one long orgasm or three separate ones with little spaces between. He tweaks my nipple, hard. I yelp. Oh, yeah, something about my not getting an orgasm... idiot... I use my fist to stamp an invisible "seal of approval" on his chest. That reassures him that I did find the experience satisfactory, despite the apparent lack of enthusiasm (get real). We start tickling each other and grabbing whatever is handy, licking things when we can, anything to make the feeling even more intense. I'm wheezing, still gasping for breath... wait a minute, I didn't know I was gasping in the first place... I start coughing. He stops tickling and rolls me all the way to my tummy. I get up on my elbows and gasp for breath as he rubs my back... then fondles my bottom... and tickles my thighs. I laugh, then collapse, grabbing the pillow, kicking my knee to the side away from him. The blankets arrange themselves over me. I'm nice and comfy. The smell of candle wax is in the air. The room is dark. Time must have passed or something. My husband snuggles behind me (I assume that's him). I must be on my side. Yeah, that's it; I'm on my side. I cry a little; happy tears. My bottom still hurts... it hurts real good! Hell, it's the best we've had in... maybe... two months... There's a wet, slippery erection prying its way between my wet slippery thighs. It slides its way upward between my cheeks and slides around a little. I laugh inwardly. If it can find it's way in, it can have me while I sleep. The last thing I remember is saying the words, "I'm five minutes pregnant." It's wishful thinking, but... who knows.