briansmith98
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2009
- Posts
- 252
Giving me head, on her terms
Lexi and I really enjoy "your end of the deal" - telling her what you like and what you want. Some of the things she sees maybe aren't for her, and other things are maybe the first time she's given it real thought, and now she's curious. Either way, her mind explores sexual ideas in ways that aren't provoked by my needs or requests - she now allocates time and energy to think about sex on her terms.
I don't know how your life goes, but mine is a little like jokes guys tell, so there must be some truth to it: the blow jobs dried up shortly after the wedding. PM me with a sympathetic +1 if this is you too. I receive the occasional head once or twice a year (not for a lack of trying - I go down on her very regularly and I can't get enough of the taste and smell). Like many people, we have our own set of baggage and connected issues with blow jobs.
She sometimes gets tension headaches at the base of her skull, and I rub them out with trigger point massage. If we aren't using a massage table, it usually works best to have her lay her head face-down in my lap, at which point, I usually daydream a little about getting head while I make her headache go away.
Today, she was headed out for a couple days, and got the usual headache. I didn't want her in pain the whole trip, so I worked on her until her head felt good. This often takes ten or fifteen minutes. This means base of the skull, back of the neck, traps/delts, and upper back. I love meeting her needs with this – I think it is one of the things that helped keep us close when other parts of our lives were not close, or even distant. When I was done, she looked up and reached for my belt buckle. I thought to myself "There are very few ways this can go poorly..."
As she undid my belt, I tried to follow her lead without being demanding. This is hard, because too much help with the pants means “he's being presumptive and demanding” and too little help with the pants means “he's disinterested” or in some way rejecting the gift being tentatively offered. She opened the belt, then undid the cargoes and pulled down the zipper. I was feeling like my opportunity to presume too much was coming to a close. She took hold of my FTL waistband and pulled them down as much as our reclined position allowed, which wasn't much. This allowed me the chance of a lifetime - to say "How can I help you right now?" and get an answer that (a) I clearly understand and (b) will probably lead to genital stimulation. She indicated that there wasn't enough room around my manhood at that moment. The kids were downstairs playing Wii, so I slipped out from underneath her, pulled one leg out of my pants and briefs, closed the bedroom door, and slid back in underneath her, penis out with structural integrity at a full 100%. The pants were still on one leg, ready for the kids to pull some poorly-time high maintenance stunt.
I still wasn't sure what all she wanted, but I felt very good about my prospects. She still laid between my legs facing down, in the same position where I worked on her neck. My boner leans to the right a little, so she laid me down on my right thigh and rested the back of her head down on my left thigh, with her mouth near the base of my shaft. I asked if she needed more work on her neck, and I heard an affirmative "uhnnmm-huhnnmm" grunt as she took the side of my shaft between her lips and firmly stroked with her tongue. When she goes down on me, her taste buds give me a wet friction that is inimitable by the human hand. With her face embedded in my balls and shaft, every respiration breathed me in, drawing cool air in around me, and exhaled out, saturating my balls and thighs with warm humidity.
She worked her tongue sideways back and forth, not getting too close to the tip. She's not a big fan of sex fluids in her mouth, so I clamped my index finger and thumb over the base of the shaft to contain what we call the "happy juice" (the precum). I milked the clear fluid from the shaft and wiped the head with a cloth. I said “I don’t want to get this in your hair before you leave.” This was apparently what she wanted me to do, because she immediately took me into her mouth. She bobbed up and down on me for a few minutes, alternating between strong friction below the tip and a softer grip with a more relaxed tongue. After a couple minutes, she pulled out to just the head, and gently but firmly sucked while slowly pulling me out of her mouth. She has never done this before, and the pleasure was a different spectrum – the tongue on the glans is intense like a halogen, but this sucking was a warm glow, like a sunset in open woodlands. Neither was strong enough to push me into climax, but I really didn’t want to hurry.
She worked on me for as long as she was comfortable, which was a huge gift compared to where we've been in our marriage. I couldn't tell where she wanted me to go off, but she pulled up for air and asked me. I know she hates the fluids in her mouth, so I answered "Anywhere you want to put it" (she knows that I'm happy to finish myself if she ever feels like she is done). She slowly stood and stripped her pants and panties down. Her panties were the tiniest little things today, kind of pale skin nude colored. She laid on her back at the edge of the bed, with her legs open. I removed the remaining leg from my pants, and stood between her legs. I placed in her outer lips, and finally released my fingers clamping the base of my shaft. I lubricate her outer lips with the saved-up happy juice that leaked out and took my time working my way in (she didn't seem excited down there yet, making it clear how much of a gift this was).
Since she had to leave soon, I focused on showing her a pleasure that reflects what I have for her in my heart - my gratitude for taking me inside herself like this, the pride I have for her cultivating and exercising her sexuality (some of which you see here in this thread), and the warmth that comes from having been to the edge of coming apart as a couple (not unlike some partial bone fracture) and choosing to knit back together as one. With this in mind, I matched the rhythm of my thrusts with gentle rotations on her hood, which almost always means she will go off in the next 2 or 3 minutes. She raised her t-shirt and her bra, because she likes it when I pinch and tug her nipples during her orgasm. I took her right breast in my hand, and massaged her hood with my left. Sometimes she closes her eyes when we are in this position, but today, she just looked at me. I don't take it for granted when we make eye contact during love-making, because it hasn't always been there. Her eyes locked mine, not with arousal or passion, but more of an expression of commitment she has to me, and a reassurance that she would do her part to keep our lives and our family intact, even through difficult times.
She closed her eyes and looked up, and I thought she was beginning to go. This usually serves as "authorization" to me that I can go as well, and we often orgasm at the same time. I asked her if she was close. As the shook her head sideways, I smiled and said "You will be soon…" If she doesn't go before I do, my release triggers something in her and her climax follows almost immediately while I continue thrusting and rubbing. Today, as I thrust into her and released myself, she started what usually happens: Her eyes broke away from mine and closed, clearly rolled upward looking at something high in her mind. Her neck muscles and gentle laugh lines became stronger, more pronounced, and her jaw quivered slightly. She arched her back forward slightly, lifting the top of her body. Her vagina squeezed me, hugging me, milking me. She convulsed, first gently a couple times, then forcefully with strong breaths, then gently a few more times. My thrusting remained constant. My left hand on her nipple tried to keep up, but my right thumb on her clit was the main character in this act of the play. I watched her face and body for signs so I could keep stimulating her during her release, without pushing her clit beyond the pleasure into irritation (this isn't easy, and I often don't get it right, but I don't want her to have to tell me to stop touching. Rather, I want to have a gentle landing together, and show her that I know her and how to take care of her needs). It went as hoped for today, and we quietly emerged from her orgasm with a gentle denouement. She looked at me, pleased to have shared this send off to her trip. We kissed briefly, and sighed together, Aware of the time, she waddled to the toilet with a tissue between her legs, to not drip our hard work on the carpet. I brought in her pants and panties as small symbol of unity and gratitude. We may have said other administrative things about what needed done the next couple of days, but I honestly don’t remember. Rather, you can see here what my mind took in. She quickly finished making herself presentable, and went downstairs to kiss the kids. I placed her suitcase at the door. Rather than take it to the car, I knew that she would find one or two more things she needed to put in it. I asked if she wanted something to drink, still probably having my taste in her mouth. She left with one final kiss to me, her lips still warm and soft from her focused efforts in bed. It was hours before I felt routine again.
It's not the road head fantasy that folks might dream about. Rather, it's real life with an amazing giving woman, with cracks and strains and band-aids and scars. She wants for both of us to be better - better at life, better for each other, better for our kids. When she expresses this desire through such giving tenderness, what man can leave that moment unchanged?
Lexi and I really enjoy "your end of the deal" - telling her what you like and what you want. Some of the things she sees maybe aren't for her, and other things are maybe the first time she's given it real thought, and now she's curious. Either way, her mind explores sexual ideas in ways that aren't provoked by my needs or requests - she now allocates time and energy to think about sex on her terms.
I don't know how your life goes, but mine is a little like jokes guys tell, so there must be some truth to it: the blow jobs dried up shortly after the wedding. PM me with a sympathetic +1 if this is you too. I receive the occasional head once or twice a year (not for a lack of trying - I go down on her very regularly and I can't get enough of the taste and smell). Like many people, we have our own set of baggage and connected issues with blow jobs.
She sometimes gets tension headaches at the base of her skull, and I rub them out with trigger point massage. If we aren't using a massage table, it usually works best to have her lay her head face-down in my lap, at which point, I usually daydream a little about getting head while I make her headache go away.
Today, she was headed out for a couple days, and got the usual headache. I didn't want her in pain the whole trip, so I worked on her until her head felt good. This often takes ten or fifteen minutes. This means base of the skull, back of the neck, traps/delts, and upper back. I love meeting her needs with this – I think it is one of the things that helped keep us close when other parts of our lives were not close, or even distant. When I was done, she looked up and reached for my belt buckle. I thought to myself "There are very few ways this can go poorly..."
As she undid my belt, I tried to follow her lead without being demanding. This is hard, because too much help with the pants means “he's being presumptive and demanding” and too little help with the pants means “he's disinterested” or in some way rejecting the gift being tentatively offered. She opened the belt, then undid the cargoes and pulled down the zipper. I was feeling like my opportunity to presume too much was coming to a close. She took hold of my FTL waistband and pulled them down as much as our reclined position allowed, which wasn't much. This allowed me the chance of a lifetime - to say "How can I help you right now?" and get an answer that (a) I clearly understand and (b) will probably lead to genital stimulation. She indicated that there wasn't enough room around my manhood at that moment. The kids were downstairs playing Wii, so I slipped out from underneath her, pulled one leg out of my pants and briefs, closed the bedroom door, and slid back in underneath her, penis out with structural integrity at a full 100%. The pants were still on one leg, ready for the kids to pull some poorly-time high maintenance stunt.
I still wasn't sure what all she wanted, but I felt very good about my prospects. She still laid between my legs facing down, in the same position where I worked on her neck. My boner leans to the right a little, so she laid me down on my right thigh and rested the back of her head down on my left thigh, with her mouth near the base of my shaft. I asked if she needed more work on her neck, and I heard an affirmative "uhnnmm-huhnnmm" grunt as she took the side of my shaft between her lips and firmly stroked with her tongue. When she goes down on me, her taste buds give me a wet friction that is inimitable by the human hand. With her face embedded in my balls and shaft, every respiration breathed me in, drawing cool air in around me, and exhaled out, saturating my balls and thighs with warm humidity.
She worked her tongue sideways back and forth, not getting too close to the tip. She's not a big fan of sex fluids in her mouth, so I clamped my index finger and thumb over the base of the shaft to contain what we call the "happy juice" (the precum). I milked the clear fluid from the shaft and wiped the head with a cloth. I said “I don’t want to get this in your hair before you leave.” This was apparently what she wanted me to do, because she immediately took me into her mouth. She bobbed up and down on me for a few minutes, alternating between strong friction below the tip and a softer grip with a more relaxed tongue. After a couple minutes, she pulled out to just the head, and gently but firmly sucked while slowly pulling me out of her mouth. She has never done this before, and the pleasure was a different spectrum – the tongue on the glans is intense like a halogen, but this sucking was a warm glow, like a sunset in open woodlands. Neither was strong enough to push me into climax, but I really didn’t want to hurry.
She worked on me for as long as she was comfortable, which was a huge gift compared to where we've been in our marriage. I couldn't tell where she wanted me to go off, but she pulled up for air and asked me. I know she hates the fluids in her mouth, so I answered "Anywhere you want to put it" (she knows that I'm happy to finish myself if she ever feels like she is done). She slowly stood and stripped her pants and panties down. Her panties were the tiniest little things today, kind of pale skin nude colored. She laid on her back at the edge of the bed, with her legs open. I removed the remaining leg from my pants, and stood between her legs. I placed in her outer lips, and finally released my fingers clamping the base of my shaft. I lubricate her outer lips with the saved-up happy juice that leaked out and took my time working my way in (she didn't seem excited down there yet, making it clear how much of a gift this was).
Since she had to leave soon, I focused on showing her a pleasure that reflects what I have for her in my heart - my gratitude for taking me inside herself like this, the pride I have for her cultivating and exercising her sexuality (some of which you see here in this thread), and the warmth that comes from having been to the edge of coming apart as a couple (not unlike some partial bone fracture) and choosing to knit back together as one. With this in mind, I matched the rhythm of my thrusts with gentle rotations on her hood, which almost always means she will go off in the next 2 or 3 minutes. She raised her t-shirt and her bra, because she likes it when I pinch and tug her nipples during her orgasm. I took her right breast in my hand, and massaged her hood with my left. Sometimes she closes her eyes when we are in this position, but today, she just looked at me. I don't take it for granted when we make eye contact during love-making, because it hasn't always been there. Her eyes locked mine, not with arousal or passion, but more of an expression of commitment she has to me, and a reassurance that she would do her part to keep our lives and our family intact, even through difficult times.
She closed her eyes and looked up, and I thought she was beginning to go. This usually serves as "authorization" to me that I can go as well, and we often orgasm at the same time. I asked her if she was close. As the shook her head sideways, I smiled and said "You will be soon…" If she doesn't go before I do, my release triggers something in her and her climax follows almost immediately while I continue thrusting and rubbing. Today, as I thrust into her and released myself, she started what usually happens: Her eyes broke away from mine and closed, clearly rolled upward looking at something high in her mind. Her neck muscles and gentle laugh lines became stronger, more pronounced, and her jaw quivered slightly. She arched her back forward slightly, lifting the top of her body. Her vagina squeezed me, hugging me, milking me. She convulsed, first gently a couple times, then forcefully with strong breaths, then gently a few more times. My thrusting remained constant. My left hand on her nipple tried to keep up, but my right thumb on her clit was the main character in this act of the play. I watched her face and body for signs so I could keep stimulating her during her release, without pushing her clit beyond the pleasure into irritation (this isn't easy, and I often don't get it right, but I don't want her to have to tell me to stop touching. Rather, I want to have a gentle landing together, and show her that I know her and how to take care of her needs). It went as hoped for today, and we quietly emerged from her orgasm with a gentle denouement. She looked at me, pleased to have shared this send off to her trip. We kissed briefly, and sighed together, Aware of the time, she waddled to the toilet with a tissue between her legs, to not drip our hard work on the carpet. I brought in her pants and panties as small symbol of unity and gratitude. We may have said other administrative things about what needed done the next couple of days, but I honestly don’t remember. Rather, you can see here what my mind took in. She quickly finished making herself presentable, and went downstairs to kiss the kids. I placed her suitcase at the door. Rather than take it to the car, I knew that she would find one or two more things she needed to put in it. I asked if she wanted something to drink, still probably having my taste in her mouth. She left with one final kiss to me, her lips still warm and soft from her focused efforts in bed. It was hours before I felt routine again.
It's not the road head fantasy that folks might dream about. Rather, it's real life with an amazing giving woman, with cracks and strains and band-aids and scars. She wants for both of us to be better - better at life, better for each other, better for our kids. When she expresses this desire through such giving tenderness, what man can leave that moment unchanged?
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