Bingo with media and sex
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Posted:Feb 24, 2014 8:24 am
Last Updated:Feb 26, 2014 8:24 am
14644 Views
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This is interesting.
The chart above is a list of stereotypes society and the media read/assume with sex.
Intriguing reading.. 
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Nice and slow
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Posted:Feb 23, 2014 8:19 am
Last Updated:Feb 24, 2014 2:26 pm
15489 Views
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I have never seen my wife undress herself.
When I get to watch I get that privilege.
It's a privilege to be there anyway, but an even bigger one to undress her for him.
As I remove her lingerie or what ever she's decided to wear for him he's always there close to her, watching, touching her, and taking in the moment as I prepare her for him.
Nothing is said between any of us. It's raw and sexual. A bonding moment done through mere hands.
In the times when she's alone with him he does it.
With each article he removes he's slow and delicate, watching her feminine body as inch by inch he uncovers it.
It's not foreign to him. He owns her sexuality.
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Musings with The Madam
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Posted:Feb 23, 2014 8:10 am
Last Updated:Feb 23, 2014 8:22 am
15480 Views
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Chastity is a major theme with cuckolding couples.
Lots of them do it.
But for us, it’s something that really doesn’t interest us. Her chastity of me comes in other ways.
Mainly by the denial of her body to me. ‘All the cucks I have been with are encased in their chastity device,’ The Madam wrote in an email to me recently.
‘I understand why someone would, or wouldn’t, have their cuck locked up. For me it’s symbolic. It’s way deeper than just a plastic case around a dicklet. It’s a sign of power and control; sexual control, over my cuck. It’s a daily reminder of his faults and flaws. His dicklet belongs to me. It’s mine for my pleasure. Now, my pleasure for my cucks dicklet is quite different than my admiration for my bulls. My cucks penis lacks manhood, and if he were better endowed or a more astute as lover, then it wouldn’t be locked away and I’d be pleased by him. Next time you are graced with the presence of your wife her lover, look at his cock. It’s larger, thicker, and more adult than yours. It belongs in her cunt honey. You know that as much as I do.
But for my bulls, well sweetie, they don’t make chastity devices for 8 inch cocks..’
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Selfish the new exception
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Posted:Feb 21, 2014 12:02 pm
Last Updated:Feb 23, 2014 8:50 am
15249 Views
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Being selfish is a more less desirable trait among people. We are all trained to give, and not take.
The exception you ask?
Fucking a married woman.
Selfish is a good thing. Trust me.
She thinks about you; more often than you think. She wishes time would go by faster in between sex sessions.
She wants your cock in her. To her, it belongs there.
Your hands touching her, she craves that too.
They make her feel complete, sexy, and womanly.
Your lips are soft, wet, and leading. They take her places she’s never been. They feel comfortable, homey, and stage setting the moment they grace her.
Selfish is a good thing.
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Secrets from room 210
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Posted:Feb 20, 2014 9:09 am
Last Updated:Feb 20, 2014 1:35 pm
15496 Views
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She stood before me undoing her shirt.
The house was dark.
The light illuminating from my computer screen filled the room.
She told me not to say a word.
I had no need to ask, that she would divulge all I needed to know.
She opened her blouse.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
It never made it back on.
“Touch me,” she said softly.
Her skin was slick and oily.
“He massaged my entire body,” she said while my fingers glided across her endowed chest.
Her words were soft and delicate. They told a story. Sometimes words tell me than a picture. In this case, they did.
It was as if I was there watching, sitting across the room while they played.
She was careful to tell me what mattered, being vague at times, and kick starting my perversions.
I’ve seen him massage her many times. His hands are strong and she melts the moment he touches her.
He’s deliberate and takes his time as he explores and pleases his woman.
Below him she lays, open and accessible, taking it all in.
His massages are much different than mine.
When I rub her it’s about the massage. When he rubs her it’s about the sex.
Sooner or later his hand drifts between her crack. She’s ready and willing.
I don’t dare go there. My hands don’t belong down there. And she’ll be the first to tell you that.
“He used his fingers on me,” she said. “His hands felt so good. He knows how to touch me. I came quickly.”
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.
There was a question I was dying to ask. I needed to know.
It’s an answer she never offers openly.
I always have to ask for it, and somehow I felt tonight would be no different.
I wanted to know how many times he got her off.
Trivial huh?
I know.
I guess you have to go back to the beginning, when she never got off more than once with me, always through oral sex.
I would ask, beg, and wonder why cumming twice, or sometimes even once, wasn’t an option or an interest with her.
In a way it’s my own private reminder. A reminder of why I’m a cuckold.
She began sliding her leggings down. She carefully removed her panties from her legs and held them for a moment in her hands before placing them in front of my nose.
The scent of sex was faint and not as strong as I’d hoped.
“I don’t know how scented they are,” she said to me softly. “Just before I left we sex again I put them on afterwards.”
The fabric was indeed damp, slightly, but the majority of the scent was chlorine from the hot tub, which dampened and overwhelmed the natural scents they might have created together.
But none the less I felt charged with my nose between the crotch.
Somehow it felt right, hearing about the evening while I lived the moment too through the coverings of her pussy.
She suggested I start taking care of myself.
“You need to be quick,” she said. “I’m all sexed out. From the moment I got there until the minute I left all we did was have sex.”
The more she talked the more I tugged at myself.
It was erotic.
It really was, the way she described her evening to me while I just listened. It was a short story, steamy, without photos, with just the images you yourself create.
The questions you have, all of a sudden they fade away to another day as you hang on the next word or phrase set to be released from her mouth.
“I shouldn’t say we just had sex,” she clarified, “he rubbed my body with oils after kissing awhile and playing in the hot tub. I was so relaxed when we got out.”
I could feel myself building, and she in a sense knew it too. She snuggled into my neck and ears.
“Honey he fucked me hard, so hard,” she said softly as she kissed my ear.
I got the point; believe me, as my hips arose from my chair fucking the palm of my hand.
“That’s it honey,” she said encouraging me, lowering her D’s over my small head. Each stroke upward smashed into her soft, oily tit, waiting for the pent-up end of the evening. It wasn’t long, as I came and she caught, moaning slightly as she rubbed her breasts all over my shooting dick.
It doesn’t take a physic to know what’s next, does it?
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Sometimes force is good
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Posted:Feb 19, 2014 8:55 am
Last Updated:Mar 19, 2014 9:45 am
15273 Views
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In seeing this photo I remember.
Actually I recall lots of things regardless of the images I see.
She's not into the hair pulling, but she very much craves and enjoys the forceful penetration.
I've seen Mark fuck her so hard and fast that she was wobbly afterwards.
Phil, well, he's hammered her in front of me too. Their sex was deafening as he slammed into her.
From an onlooker, I think this is where the size comes into play. That, added with the impact, is orgasmic, as I've seen..
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http://Senior Sizzle.com
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Blessed with both
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Posted:Feb 19, 2014 8:49 am
Last Updated:Feb 21, 2014 8:54 am
15017 Views
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If I were voting I would certainly be a boob guy.
I always have been.
But thankfully I don't have to chose, because she has both.
As you all know, and see! 
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Reflections, sure
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Posted:Feb 18, 2014 8:48 am
Last Updated:Feb 19, 2014 8:02 am
15332 Views
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Saturday night was a success all around. She had a grand time. I’ve already begun writing about the sex, and hopefully it will be available later this week.
When she got to the room Phil was already there. He had flowers and candles which added to the atmosphere and mood.
That’s just another thing he does really well, set the mood.
They shared and toasted a glass of champagne together while enjoying each other’s company before diving into the carnal desires which brought them there to begin with. She later told me the evening was ‘perfect’ for her.
What she means by that is anyone’s guess, but I have a pretty good idea.
Some people have this concept of what a wife fucking other men should entail. The further they get into our blog and life they realize it’s much different than what they once thought it was. I suppose that’s another reason finding the right partner for her takes so long.
Our life is complete.
It is.
There is no drama, no fighting, and no unhappiness.
This in sense just completes the circle for us. It allows for exploration and fulfillment of the needs within us. You know, those dirty needs that society says shouldn’t matter for married couples.
Cuckolding allows me to be me. I enjoy all the ups and downs, the highs and lows, and the emotional triggers that make sex so intense at times. And a shocker, most cuckolds do too. They get off on the emotional tug of war within.
And for her, it allows her to feel like a woman on a much deeper and satisfying level.
Lets’ be honest. Shall we?
Saturday night in all its graces would not have been the same with someone who couldn’t perform in bed. There would be no passion, no multiple encounters, no different positions; no nothing. Believe me, I’ve been there.
It’s just not the same.
Once the novelty wears off it becomes just that; a room full of nick-nacks and seductive lighting, rather than embracing it for its true romantic and sexual meaning.
In other words, a cake without frosting.
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It’s strange what time does.
I mean, doing something over a period of time, or years in this case, that something feels so right and natural to us, but to the outside world may appear odd or weird.
Sex to me is a foreign concept, and I fret about being in a position where I and penetration is used in the same sentence. I hope I never again have to travel that embarrassing road.
I am happy and content with tossing myself off, and she’s happy not having me going limp inside her.
But the other night seemed right. To us both.
It was something she never talked about, but something you can just sense, if you pay attention to people.
People will always show you the truth. You just have to look for it. It’s the small things, the words or actions here and there that define a lot.
When we got up Sunday morning we stayed in bed for a few moments. We talked, and cuddled. She’s hadn’t showered yet, and the smells and mood from the previous night were still there.
She felt so womanly as I held her, and to be honest and direct, it’s moments like this when to me she’s most radiant.
Her skin was ultra smooth and hot as I touched it.
My touch is never the same as his.
I learned that a long time ago.
It was something never told, just observed through actions.
My fingers rested just above her public line, the tips playing with her hair. Some strands were matted, most likely from his cum.
“I’m really sore today,” she revealed, her voice still sort of groggy.
She may be sore, but it’s a discomfort I’m sure she’s happy with.
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Doing what she does best
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Posted:Feb 17, 2014 9:03 am
Last Updated:Feb 19, 2014 7:42 am
15628 Views
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In describing Saturday night with Phil, she talked at length, mostly in a teasing fashion, of how she sucked his cock while they shared a hot tub together.
She told me how he sat on the side with his feet in the water.
She described being on her knees in the warm water, in front of him, worshiping his manly cock.
She talked of how hard he was, and how she worked him over orally.
I wonder if she got him off? She never said..
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I can only imagine
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Posted:Feb 15, 2014 9:18 pm
Last Updated:Feb 21, 2014 8:25 am
16040 Views
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I’m sitting here in the dark.
I feel like a fool, but alas, no one can see me.
My computer lights up the room. It hurts my eyes at times, and makes them dry. A blink or two remedies that for me.
The clock in the corner of my screen reads 6:27PM.
I can only imagine what he’s done to her in the time they’ve been together.
I was asked once by a reader what it felt like to be a cuckold.
Most times it’s erotic, raw, sexual and intense.
Others, like this, it’s dark, lonely and cold.
Picture a night with the wind blowing, the trees swaying back and forth, as the air hollows between the branches. Your arms are crossed, keeping your body warm, but the air cuts you to the bone.
You’re standing in the bushes, like a pervert, a peeping tom, huddled together stealing glimpses from within.
That’s me tonight.
The peeping tom, the pervert, and the sicko.
But as long as I have a dick leaking with excitement, I guess it’s all good.
It’s all good to imagine.
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Check in at 4
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Posted:Feb 15, 2014 3:38 pm
Last Updated:May 23, 2024 5:35 am
15415 Views
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“Careful not to go outside lines,” she instructed me.
Her leg was propped across mine as I polished her toes with a fresh coat. She wanted bright red, ‘fuck me red,’ as she calls it.
I suppose it will fit perfectly for the occasion tonight.
I wouldn’t classify it as nerves, but there is a sense of erotic tension in the air this afternoon as she dressed.
It wasn’t anything dreading, but just the opposite, very calm and natural. She kept her feelings to herself mostly and I gave her the space to do so.
But I watched.
I watched from afar how she applied her makeup. She was perfect and slow with each individual touch, brush and stroke.
She had this glow about her. It’s tough to detail into words. I would classify it as sex. She had a sexual glow about her, which draws out the most deepest parts of her femininity.
It’s a side of her I never saw prior to this.
Our sex was always matter of fact, scheduled, and a chore, and quite frankly not worth dressing and applying flawless makeup for.
But in watching her in moments like this, when she thinks she’s alone, is priceless.
She models in the mirror as she finishes her eyeliner. She’s totally naked. She’s beautiful, she really is.
Walking out of the bathroom she catches me looking.
She smiles.
“Honey, what are you looking at?” She asks.
Sometimes the most impactful words are those not spoken.
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I help her get dressed.
She’s wearing black leggings with her boots. She’s wearing panties, and suggested when she returns they’ll be wrapped around my face with something just for me.
Her other additions include a white button down shirt, an enhancing bra, which will certainly draw his attention right off the bat the moment they meet.
“I will call you when I get there,” she says, grabbing her purse off the counter.
“Is that all?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied, touching my arm as I helped her with her seat belt. “I think I just want to spend my time alone with him tonight.”
With that we kissed goodbye.
Somehow, I felt rather calm and unmoved; but the night is still young, very young.
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