I’ve been remiss about updating details about our relationship. Do not take that as a lessening of excitement or passion.
Our relationship is confined to weekends in person and a constant stream of one on one and group texts. The upside is that separation builds the tension in a good way. It makes the dirty talk during sex, raunchy. It makes the anticipation nearly unbearable. And it makes the inevitable sex even more exciting.
We spent a long Labor Day weekend together. N came to our place for the first time and we had slight apprehension our suburban vanilla lifestyle, so different from her urban sophistication, may stifle her interest. It didn’t. We found our interest is independent of where we were. It is fully dependent on the dynamic of pleasing a common person, of pushing our sexual limits. It’s also about the intellectual enjoyment of someone bright and articulate and curious.
N migrated south towards Washington, DC the Friday before Labor Day. East coast weather is typically bipolar this time of year, alternating between warm days and cool nights to sweltering days and humid nights. This weekend was mostly the former. We decided to go out that evening to a local spot for dinner only so we could climb into bed together quicker. I need to fully admit something. We love sex and we love it more with her. I would rather order in and have hours of orgasms than go to a 3 star Michelin restaurant. Our sex is that spectacular. And all along I keep wondering if it’s possible for this to subside. There are no dull moments, no uncomfortable silences. It’s always stimulating.
My husband is the dominant in this relationship however that does not mean there are moments our pleasure is not first and foremost. Hardly. His desire to please is as strong as ours and this desire makes him no less a dominant. It’s that level of confidence and self assuredness that makes him the dominant figure in this triad.
The evening was a bit of a blur and it’s impossible to remember the order in which things happened. I remember him taking N at some point, pushing his erection into her prior to her becoming fully wet and forcing it in. She loved it and the friction between her legs drove her wild. She fucks hard. She’s learned how to find the orgasms through internal stimulation and the discovery of her cervix, the length of his erection and ability to penetrate deep into her, making her hurt in that wonderful, aching way as his cock touches that little spot in her no others have touched. I’ve mentioned before that watching them have sex is like having my own personal porn show. I’m a voyeur at heart and being able to watch two people I care deeply for have intense sex and orgasms is an immense turn on for me. It gets me excited and wet. It makes the air thick with the smell of sex and I love that smell. I would turn on my little pink vibrator and just watch, sometimes becoming so engrossed in their sexuality that I’d literally forget to place the vibrator on my clit.
What I also love is his voracious appetite for sex and the ability to make one of us cum and then take the other and make her cum. I love being on top, riding his erection facing away from him as N lowers herself onto his mouth for oral pleasure. I love that look and feel of my dominant under me striving for my pleasure and allowing us to take as much as we want. This is not sex. It’s nirvana.
The sex is beyond intense and what makes it so wonderful is the length and intensity of the orgasms continues to grow. Even when it’s just my master and me, I’ve now had orgasms that made me weep with joy. How can I say that it’s not due to what’s happened the past two months?
The rest of Friday evening, until we fell asleep, was better than we ever had with N. I knew that sometime in the early morning hours N would get fucked again. I looked forward to hearing the soft rustling of sheets, the whispers, the gentle rocking of the bed as N and my master would fuck. I mentioned that this was like having my own personal sex show but it was more than that. Porn is contrived. Sex between us is not. I do not care about watching girls falsely moan and act for a cameraman. I want to see the real thing. I want to see a man look into a woman’s eyes as he cums, I want to see the sensual exhaustion as she falls onto his chest, completely spent.
As we drifted off that Friday I once again felt contentment and satisfaction about what just happened. There is an easiness and comfort about being in a relationship where all parties strive for the happiness of the other two.
Later that night I vaguely remember hearing N waking up for another round of sex. There’s a distinct pleasure in sharing someone with another. It makes the bond stronger between us all. It didn’t last as long as previous encounters but it was equally as sensual and I was turned on. When they finished I remember the scent of sex and I snuggled up to him as she lay her head on his chest.
Our Saturday was a relaxing day with plans to go into the city to smoke a cigar. It’s not the phallic representation that turns me on but rather the represention of a dominant man in charge, a mob boss or politician or executive at the top. A man of confidence and control, knowing what he wants with his life and his woman. Or women. It gives me a sense of power and control. I’m the gatekeeper and you don’t get to him without going through me. Maybe it is phallic. I think so. Sitting on that couch in the cigar bar, sharing that with my master and N makes me feel like a chess master. I’m playing this to perfection for all of us.
It’s also our chance to dress for him. I don’t care what other women think. I care what he thinks. Part of the beauty of this relationship is the collaborative nature. I now have another woman to share ideas with, plan with, be intimate with and ultimately, please a man with. Most do not grasp the beauty of this arrangement nor will they ever.
To be continued…