That’s better

[If this post doesn’t seem to make a huge amount of sense, or leaves you with a whole load of questions, Dear Deader, the previous few days info should help shed some light.]

As we sat down to dinner, my Wife asked …
Her: How are you doing?
Me: In the circumstances, ok.
Her: Are you still in pain?
Me: Yeah.
Her: Oh dear.
Me: It’s partly self inflicted.
Her: Because you could take care if it yourself?
Me: Yeah.
Her: So if I took care if it later would you be ok or would it last longer?
Me: I don’t really know. Having to deal with it for so long is kind of … for want if a better expression … its a bit of an experiment.
The conversation turned to other things.

Later, as the end credits rolled on a TV show we’d been watching (and considering our previous few nights inability to stay awake to a reasonable time) She said …
Her: Do you think we should go to bed before we both fall asleep, seeing as we’ve got something to take care of?
… and She patted me on the knee.
Me: Ok!!!!!

10 minutes later, we were snuggled up in bed, and Her hand headed straight for my lower abdomen.

Me: Would I be right in thinking this is just going to be me?
Her: Let’s just focus on you and see what happens.
I caressed Her arse and gingerly headed towards a tit stroke, but the reaction, whilst muted, clearly said No.
Her grip was tight around my member, and Her fist pumped unusually vigorously, never really slowing or relaxing. She was on a mission. Perhaps She had been listening that morning when I’d told Her she can be be as rough as She likes with my dick. Even though I really wanted Her to play with my balls, it seemed we were both erring on the side of prudence: neither I suggested it, nor She tried.

Not that it was necessary.
This was a good wank.
It was a hard wank.
It was a tight wank.
It was a fast wank.
Just like when I toss myself off.
Except it was better, merely by the fact that the tourniquet was Her fingers, not mine.
I was slightly concerned that Her arm might fail Her before my release, as there were a couple of moments I could feel my pleasure slipping away. Thankfully my Wife’s enthusiasm did not follow it, and She tugged at my cock like a pro.
It was still good.
It was still hard.
It was still tight.
It was still fast.
I didn’t know whether I was going to cum quickly, or whether I’d need a prolonged pumping. I needed to shoot my load so badly, but my aching balls were not on their best form.
But this was still so very good.
Still so very hard.
Still so very tight.
Still so very fast.
And it turned out not so very long.
I was cumming!
I was cumming hard!
And I was cumming fast!
And I kept spraying wad after wad after wad of thick jizz over Her hands and my chest.
And She kept stroking.
Oh yes.
Oh fuck yes!
Oh fuck yes Yes YES YESSSSSSSS!
And She kept thrashing away at my cock till I told Her, in a fit of giggles, to stop.
And She snuggled up, Her hand still wrapped around my spent, but still twitching member.
Her: I think I usually stop too soon?
I wasn’t really in a state to answer, but through my breathless giggling I grunted agreement as best I could.
Eventually, as the dopamins subsided, I kissed Her and said thank you. It felt slightly odd to thank Her – was it for giving me a hand job, or for releiving my pain, or for being focussed on my pleasure without taking any Herself, or just for wanting to have sex with me? Or all of the above? I guess it doesn’t really matter,
She offered me a tissue. I wiped my chest. I asked for another tissue and another … and then 3 more. I think it took 6 man sized tissues, to collect most of my jizz, and in the end I gave up. I was still a little wet and the sheets were sticky too, and I just wanted to curl up and enjoy the come down.
As I was wiping up my liquid joy, She seemed to look down at my dick, and I wondered why? Was it because I had been waxed a few days previously? Is She curious about this? Does She like it? Does She think it’s weird? I still don’t know, and She never asks.
I put the sodden mass of paper in the bin and we spooned up together.
That’s better.
In so many ways.

Today, before the alarm clock was due to spoil the morning, we snuggled up to each other. Despite last night’s exorcism, my cock was as turgid as it always is when I wake, and it twitched against Her belly like Frankenstein’s monster still wired to the lightning conductor.
Her: How are you doing this morning?
Me: Much better. Thanks.
Her: Good.

—————

Epilogue
The last few days have obviously not been good for my testicles and they are still a little tender. The significant difference is that they aren’t nearly as hard as they were before my Wife drained them last night, and the ache is disipating. The thing that isn’t different is that I’m still horny as hell, and as soon as I’ve hit Post, I’ll be going for another wank.

4 Responses to “That’s better”

  1. Yeah, result AM!

    (but…please google Mary Shelley)

  2. This was fucking hot, AM. Well done! And congratulations!

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