I know I said I wouldn’t but … Pt. 9

Day 5261
More than a week had passed and nothing. Then Sunday morning, She notices me gently tossing myself off in bed and She reaches for me.
It would be a complacent man who, having had pitifully little sex for years and then starting to get laid on a weekly basis, would bemoan the usual sex, so I shall resist the urge.
As on day 5253, after I resisted the desire to try to finger Her, She positioned Herself so I should.
Then we fucked.
Or rather I fucked.
I fucked me.
For a while I thought, if I fucked with my orgasm in mind, rather than Her’s – hard and fast – I might actually get there, even with a condom on.
Me: Play with my balls.
She reached around Her leg and between mine, and tickled my nuts.
Her: I need longer fingers.
Me: You and me both.
Though I didn’t say so then, I was thinking of how difficult it has physically been recently to stroke Her snatch.
Her: We ought to be able to find something easier
Me:
Turn over.
There was no immediate response, and I felt a question in the air.
Me: Onto your hands and knees.
I fancied a bit of doggy for a change, and wondered if I might cum if I gave Her (or rather me) a good banging. Obviously I didn’t say that, but She declined anyway, offering some excuse about tired wrists.
As on all but one previous occasion since we switched from biochemical contraception to mechanical, it soon became evident that I wasn’t going to cum in Her cunt. When I gave up thrusting, She raised the issue. I mentioned how bad even some of the supposedly thinner jonnies are. She mentioned the possibilities of an IUD and pondered when She might no longer be fertile and we could dispense with the need for contraception completely.
We talked a little more …
Me: You seem to be getting a little more amenable to me wanking you?
Her: I don’t like to think of it as you wanking me. It’s forplay.
Me: Wanking. Masturbating. Foreplay. It’s just a word.
Her: Ok. I guess I am getting a bit more comfortable with it.
Me: Not a complaint, but reaching round behind to touch your pussy is really uncomfortable for my wrist.
Her: I’m sure we can work something out.
Me (silently in my head): Year, just spread your legs and let me finger your cunt.

[Just a quick reminder, Dear Reader, to keep track of the days, especially over the last couple of these I know I said I wouldn’t but … posts. The numbers are becoming increasingly … significant.]

Day 5268
5am and I’ve been awake for some time. I stroke my erection, and to my surprise She’s awake too, snuggles up and reaches for my loins. With confirmation that we’re both up for a shag, a moment later She gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom.
The sex is ok.
Points arising:

1: My approach to selecting brands of condom has been to just pull one from my stash at random. The results have not been good, either in terms of finding a sheath that actually allows me to enjoy my Wife’s cunt with a degree of sensation that even remotely compares with bareback, or indeed sufficient to cum in Her pussy, or even in discerning preferred bands. I keep pulling out the same ones. So I’d sorted them by type, ensuring the types yet to be worn were easy to select. And thus I finally got to roll on a My Size 69.
Me: I think I’ve found a condom that’s too big at last.
As I stroked in and out of Her snatch, I could feel the sheath wrinkling up in slack folds arounf my dick. It was distracting, and not particularly pleasent. Another jonnie that’s not going to do the job. I wonder how much better the My Size 64 will be.

2: Unusually She asked if I wanted to go on top from the start. (As you’ve probably realised by now, Loyal Reader, She usually prefers to go on top.) Whichever way up we are, I usually find it easy enough to fuck Her with just the right force and angle to make my Wife cum, but missionary gave me the opportunity to control the opportunity to fuck with my orgasm in mind. So I started to go at my pace – deeper, harder and faster than if I was just fucking for Her. This wasn’t working for Her and She slowed me down. So back to the usual slow, grinding motion. I noticed that, not only did She respond to pressure against Her mound, Her pleasure also rose if I put more of my weight on Her tits. So I did. And She came.
I didn’t, and I found myself musing how We need to fuck in different ways for Our respective pleasures. Hers vs Mine.
I dismounted and we curled up.
Me: How are you doing?
Her: Good. You?
Me: Alright.
Her: Lets see if we can make that Good.
She pulled the oversized rubber off my cock, knelt up between my legs and stroked me off. As She did …
Me: Not a complaint, just feedback, but I really want you to sit on my face when you do that!
She laughed.
Me: Really! I’m not joking.
She said nothing, kept tugging at my cock and very quickly sprayed my own jizz across my chest and neck.
She reached for the tissues and wiped at the gobbets of spunk. [I say “wiped at” because, for some reason, She always seems to do a really bad job of cleaning it up, and just seems to smear it arouund further. Just an observation.]
Her: Are you going to get back to sleep now?
It was maybe a little after 6am and a Sunday morning. There was no need to get up, even though I had contemplated doing so since about 4am.
Me: I doubt it.
But I did. I snoozed intermittently for another 2hrs. Then …
Her: I thought you weren’t going to get back to sleep?
Me: Sex is a great narcotic.
Her: Maybe you shouldn’t get out of bed early so often.
Me: I’d rather sleep at night than in the morning.
Her: Fair point.
Me: And you’re usually asleep in the morning.
Her: True.

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