Thinking of her

Inspired by Work Spouse Story posting an oh so very, very horny picture in Think of me when you fuck her, I tugged myself off. and I was thinking of her when I did. To be more accurate, I was thinking of both of them: the woman in the photo, and of Work Spouse Story. (I assume they are not one and the same.) Yes, I should have been thinking of my Wife, but I wasn’t.

The post, and the wank, got me thinking about who I think about during sex.

I’ve never really examined this, but I’m pretty sure that when I’m fucking I only think about the woman I’m fucking … and myself. I’m a giving sort of person – I invariably get more pleasure at Xmas from other people liking the gifts I get for them than from receiving gifts myself. And when I’ve got my cock in someone’s cunt, my primary interest has always been to make them cum. I also get very focussed about detail – I wouldn’t say it ever gets as far as OCD, but for me, without the veins on the leaves on the twigs on the branches on the trees, there is no forest. And so it is with sex. The moment I hear a whimper from the woman I’m fucking, or masturbating, or going down on, I think about what action led to it. Was it a deep, fast, hard thrust? Was it a slow grind as our pelvises met? Was it the flexing of my fingers inside her? Was it the rasp of my teeth on her clit, or the way I sucked her lips into my mouth? And when I’ve identified the cause, I do it again. And again. And again. Until I want to tease her with a pause. To catch her attention with a twisted nipple. Or … well, you get the idea, Dear Reader.

What I think about is her. And what I am doing for her. To her. About getting her where she need to be.

And when she has screamed the house down, I’m happy to lie back and think of her pleasure. It is deeply satisfying to give that to someone.

If she wants me to cum, whether that is because she’s not in the right place that day, or because she wants me to cum first (or next) then I think about me. Or what the resulting hard core porn move would look like if there was a camera pointing in the same direction as my member. I think about the sensations in my own body. I focus on the tingles and burns. How the wetness and tightness of her pussy feels as her muscles slide up and down on my shaft. How the cold air on my glans is replaced by warmth as her lips envelope it. How her finger tips feel around my arsehole. Her nails down my back. And when I feel the swell of my own orgasm, all I think about is chasing it. Like a horse galloping towards Bechers Brook: I have to keep focussed on that which looms before me – if I don’t concentrate on that, and just that, I’ll never make it over and it will all end badly. No, I don’t think of her. Or you. Or anyone really. Come to think of it, I don’t even think about me. Just about the orgasm.

But when I pleasure myself, it’s different.

As I stroked my cock this time, I was thinking about the woman in the photograph, turning round, looking me in the eye and talking dirty. As she did so, she cupped a breast with one hand, squeezing, kneading it, pinching her own nipple. The other hand pulled her Hustler panties aside and she slid her fingers into her cunt, spreading her lips apart, spreading her juices around so she glistened. Then she moved her hand to her mouth and tasted herself. All the while telling me the dirty thoughts going through her head. etc, etc, etc …
And I was thinking about Work Spouse Story. Especially with her new toy. I was thinking about how she looked, reclined on her bed, her toy in her husband’s hand and pressed against her quim. About how she writhed and squirmed against it. etc, etc, etc …
Again, you get the picture.

When I wank I fantasize.
When I wank I think about someone else. About what she looks like, what she’s doing, how she smells, and tastes. What she says and how she moans and whimpers as I attend to her and my own needs. Or I did until around January this year, (What do you mean? You didn’t read about when I actually had good sex with my Wife? Jeez! Do your homework, Dear Reader!) I usually thought of a faceless woman. (She wasn’t actually faceless, that would be weird – I just never pictured her face in my fantasies.) She usually had long blonde hair … which is odd, as I’m usually attracted to women with shorter dark hair. Her figure, probably something like 36C-28-36, had graceful curves in all the right places. And she fucked like a pro. She was loud when she fucked. She was dirty. She was really kinky. And she knew exactly what buttons to press for me, and revelled in my pressing her’s. Well she would, wouldn’t she!

In January this started to change.
When I wanked, I started to think about my Wife. Not that I needed to wank for a couple of weeks. No, my Wife and I actually fucked regularly. But when it stopped, I found myself thinking about fucking Her. She wasn’t as good a lay as my nymphomanic fantasy blonde, She didn’t look as good, She wasn’t as dirty, She didn’t love sex in the way my blonde did, but in my mind, She fucked me lots and She loved it. I loved it. I loved that I was wanking about her. In my head She liked sex more than She usually seems to in reality. And She enjoyed Herself. And She enjoyed it when I enjoyed Her. Ok, She wasn’t as kinky as my blonde, She was never tied up, but She tied me to the bed whilst She sucked me off. And She sucked me off a lot in my fantasies of Her. She actually sucked me off far more that She fucked me. That’s actually almost all She did. But that’s not the point. The point is that I was thinking of Her, not the blonde.

Having had a period of 7 months where I never got near my Wife’s pussy, despite having had sex with Her out of the blue recently, things are reverting to the blonde a bit. I think I’m probably annoyed at Her because we aren’t having a normal sex life. Hell, we’re not having a sex life. So I’m getting it somewhere else. I’m fucking another woman. Or at least in my head I am.

When I wank I’m thinking of my blonde nymphomaniac again.
This time, when I wanked I thought of the blonde in the Hustler panties, and the lusty fun sex I’d have with her.
And I was thinking a Work Spouse Story, and watching her have the sex I’d like to have with my Wife.
I don’t usually think of anyone when I fuck. Only when I’m on my own.

8 Responses to “Thinking of her”

  1. workspousestory Says:

    Damn, did you make me blush. But only for a moment that blush was caused by the last shreds of my modesty, quite quickly it changed to a blush of arousal. And heavier breathing. And increased heart rate. And the familiar feeling of wetness between my crossed legs.

    Oh, did I say I’m sitting in a busy cafe reading it and biting my lip, trying to hide the obviously sinister smile on my face?

    …and if you want, I can even be blonde, and have short hair, in your fantasy.

    • I can only appologise for any affront to your modesty, but I am thrilled to hear of the other effects, especially in a public arena. Hmmmm.
      Your offer to occupy my wank fantasy is deeply flattering. I shall bear it in mind.

  2. that was some hot writing AM…

  3. I love how you described chasing your orgasm. That’s how I think of it for me, too! And why should you be thinking about your wife? Is that a rule written somewhere?? xx Hy

  4. workspousestory Says:

    Reblogged this on work spouse story and commented:
    I just had to reblog. Posts dedicated to *me* in such a way are just pure hot joy, and you all know that I like a bit of appreciation!

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