Monogamish sex

Over the last thirty-six hours, T and I have been blessed with a couple of unusual sex opportunities, due to a confluence of playdates and grandparental custody.  Friday at 7 pm, we lay on our bed, typing on our computers next to one another.  I scoped out a future (grownup) playdate with another couple we haven’t seen in a while.  She was typing a fantasy to the male half of that couple (it involved her giving him a blowjob in his car).

While she was typing out her fantasy, I folded up my laptop, removed her jeans and panties, and sunk my face into her pussy.  “Do you want me to stop?” she said.

“No – go ahead.  Just tell him what I’m doing.”

“I will, but afterward,” she said.

I licked, slobbered, nibbled, pressed.  My fingers were in her, in her ass, in her cunt.  My palm was pressing on her pubis, my nose pressing against her pubic bone as I feasted.

“What do I taste like?” she asked.

“Well… you don’t taste like anything else,” I said, between licks.  “Salty, sweet, musky….”

She read me a bit of what she was writing while I was pressing into her, and her voice quivered as she read.  It made her so hot to imagine what she was writing about.  “Does it make you hot to hear that?” she asked me.

I came up for air.  “Well… it makes me hot to hear how it turns you on.  But no, no, it doesn’t turn me on to visualize you going down on him.”

This is how it goes for me:  I have a combination of envy and jealousy when my wife tells me about sex with another guy, or when I see it.  My “compersion” – my ability simply to take pleasure in her pleasure – is inhibited by my own ego and craving.  Not prohibitively:  it did turn me on to hear her being turned on – more than it turned me off to imagine the actual fantasy being described.  So – a net positive, to be sure.  But a complicated one.

Anyway, after a while, it became clear that, in spite, generally, of being hyper-orgasmic, of cumming pretty easily, pretty quickly, T wasn’t going to cum any time soon.  And the window created by the (children’s) playdate was closing.  “Would you suck my cock for just a few?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said, and she did.  She lowered her head to my cock, took my balls into her mouth, licked my shaft, and did just a bit of sucking.

“I don’t want to cum either,” I said.  “I want to be hard all night.”

In the course of the evening, we received occasional (very hot) updates by e-mail from the male half of the couple with which we were planning our playdate (and whom T was fantasizing about auto-fellating*) who were out drinking, and then sucking and fucking.  The high point, as far as I was concerned, was a refraction of the e-mail T had sent him earlier:  he wrote to us about the blowjob his wife was giving him (a delightful-sounding blowjob, I must say).  I’d love to include the words he wrote, but they’d never go for that, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.  The hottest part?  How this over-educated guy who prides himself on his writing fell apart at the keyboard – grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, typos abounded.  But of course – his cock was being ravaged by his wife’s mouth.

T and I passed out early, bypassing our conclusory sex, knowing that we were going to have another expanse of kid-less time in the morning.  My sleep was fitful, punctuated by a lot of rubbing myself against the bed, against T’s leg.

And then it was morning.

While T went swimming, I began a chat with the woman about whom I wrote yesterday.  It was VERY early for her, but she had sent me an unanticipated gift:  a recording of her orgasm, moments earlier.  (I had sent her some photos she had requested – photos I had taken, apparently, just as she was stroking her clit and cumming into her phone for me.)  So I played her orgasm on my laptop, and set iTunes to play it over and over.  And we were chatting – mostly chastely, as I recall, but still – there’s something about chatting with a woman who’s just cum for me while her orgasm is playing on an endless loop.  My cock was rock-hard, and I was stroking it idly while we chatted.

I warned her that T was going to be home soon, and that when that happened, I was going to turn my attention away.  But then, when my wife got home, I had an inspiration (or rather, I remembered what had happened twice in the previous twelve hours).

I turned to T.  “Would you mind if I kept chatting with xxx while you suck my cock?”

“Not at all.”

I typed into the chat box:  “I’m going to ask her to suck my cock in a moment. Would you like to continue to chat with me while she does that?  (No is fine.)”

The reply:  “Does anyone ever say no?”

“I’ve never asked anyone that before,” I typed.

And then… “Of course. Yes.” she typed.

We chatted semi-chastely.  T looked at the pictures I had on the screen.  “She’s cute!” said T.  And then the fun began in earnest.

“Would you play with yourself – and record yourself – while we chat, while my wife sucks my cock? And talk a little? Please?” I typed.

“That’s a lot of multi-tasking…”

As T lowered herself between my legs, and took my cock between her lips, I typed the play-by-play on IM to my distant buddy:

She’s teasing me through a towel.
I just put Velvet Underground on
She’s licking my thigh…
My ass…
My balls.
She asked for direction as she swallowed my cock.
I told her to lick and suck the tenders [sic] spot under the head.

At this point, my typing began to deteriorate as the blowjob progressed.

At 9:14, I typed, “SHe’s licking my ass. back tosucking. fuck. handyman is here to fix the fucking front door. putting him off by text for a few gonna fuck her quick.”

From 9:14 until 9:29, the IM was silent.  And within 30 seconds of each other, we were back, the distant one typing, “I just came, hope it went/is going well for you both you guys are a hot couple.”  The words appeared as I began typing:

I fucked her for a minute or two
But realized I wasn’t going to cum
9:30 AM So I told her to go back to sucking my cock.
Which she did expertly.
During which, the handyman texted that he didn’t need me to be at the door immediately.
So I came in her mouth
And asked her what she wanted – my fingers or mouth?
She said, “Wand me.”
So she got the Hitachi
9:31 AM And I lodged my head between her thighs while I fucked her clit with the wand
Biting her thighs, kissing her thighs.
(She won’t come from the wand, but it feels great)
So after a while, she said, “Now use your tongue.”
So I did, and after all of ten seconds, she was gushing all over me, and making me stop.
I came up to see you had finished….

We debriefed for just a bit, and said farewell.

That was yesterday morning – the first twelve hours of the thirty-six.  I’m afraid we’ll be keeping the remaining twenty-four to ourselves.  But it’s been… lovely.

*  I’ve never used that word that way before.  But it seems right, no?


  1. You know, it’s interesting.. I suppose it would depend on the woman, but I don’t get turned on by my husband fucking other women. I have even watched and have not been particularly turned on. Again, I know it would depend on the woman. I suppose the “right” woman hasn’t fucked him yet. But please be certain, my lack of getting turned on is not a negative for him. I’m still happy he gets to enjoy other women. 

    1. Oh, I’m totally with you. I’m happy for my wife that she gets the pleasure she does from fucking other men, and occasionally, when she’s really turned on, it turns me on to see her in that state, even if it’s instigated by another, but for the most part, I just don’t enjoy it. Which doesn’t, for a moment, take away from my wish that she have the pleasure she craves.

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