Good morning Gorgeous!
I see we are wearing the same thing today---
I wanted to be hungry for that too, so I stopped at two on Wednesday. And I realised that I do this quite often, spread my orgasms around between sessions, sometimes stopping satisfied but not satiated, the better to be ravenous on the next occasion. It happened the first time spontaneously, after a long, difficult week at work, but has become something more frequent. 
Hey, papadoc, how are you? Good to see you
I had a lovely lazy Saturday. I had thought to go out for a bike ride, but it was so cold, and there was a distinct danger of black ice, the roads round here are still coated in slippery fallen leaves, looks rather treacherous
So I didn't get dressed all weekend, it was fabulous!
Did you have a relaxing weekend?
Not as relaxing as I would have liked but I did get some time to laze around.
PS: Such amazing legs
I do so love your ramblings....you and HB certainly know how to keep you marriage fresh and lively....a truly wonderful couple.On foregoing orgasm
I touched on this recently, in my rambling about an evening of fellatio. It was a Thursday night a few weeks ago, we had naughty plans for the Saturday, and I wanted to be very ready for it, eager, greedy, not desperate exactly, more ... hungry. So I decided in advance that I wouldn't cum myself that Thursday night, just concentrate on making him cum. And that was interesting and enjoyable in itself.
Come the Saturday, and greedy I definitely was. Six lovely orgasms spread over a gorgeous couple of hours of naughtiness. On which I will spill the beans (*giggles*) at some point, no doubt
Fast forward to Wednesday evening this week, late evening, the fire was dwindling, the candles were guttering, and we were reaching the end of a lovely sensual fuck. I'd cum twice already, he was definitely reaching 'final approach', if not actually in the glide slope, as it were
"Do you want to cum again", he asked me, ever the gentleman
And I knew I could, and I would enjoy it, but I decided to forego it. If we fuck on Hump Day, we almost always fuck again on the Friday, and I knew we would be at home alone and so able to indulge in what has become a winter Friday treat, known as 'wine-sex-wine'*
It seems to really work for me, a good rhythm in my life, a regularity. I know if I cum too often, the intensity of the climaxes reduces, and I prefer fewer, very intense orgasms than loads of less intense releases. It wouldn't be a good thing if I didn't have the luxury of knowing that the next fuck will be pretty much whenever I want it. My man has a powerful sex-drive, and at 55 his enthusiasm, skill and capacity are undimmed
And on this occasion, as I knew it would, stopping short on Wednesday meant that 'wine-sex-wine' was as lovely an entry to the weekend as ever
--oo0oo--
* 'wine-sex-wine':
The clue is in the name really
A glass of chilled white wine in the very late afternoon, perhaps some nibbles to keep the energy levels up. Lounging around, few (if any) clothes, chatting, sipping, unwinding. At some point the chatting might become more filthy, a hand might slip under a robe or run over a flank just that little bit higher than is simply affectionate. There's an understanding, a tension, an anticipation.
The wine drunk, it's on to the sex, benefitting from the time taken to relax properly. No need to rush, a slow build, in this scenario it's usually unhurried, sensual, lots of eye contact, skin to skin, the joining of two bodies very familiar to each other but enjoyed anew. Lots of arousal, lots of climaxes, lots of clean-up afterwards
A look at the clock, surprise at how late it's got, he disappears to make dinner, and then we enjoy a bottle of red wine with whatever he's cooked, finishing it while we watch a film, say, all the time feeling that beautiful physical tiredness that comes after a good sexual workout.
Wine-sex-wine. Perfect.
(More ramblings here...)
I hope you're well, have you recovered from Thanksgiving?
On foregoing orgasm
I touched on this recently, in my rambling about an evening of fellatio. It was a Thursday night a few weeks ago, we had naughty plans for the Saturday, and I wanted to be very ready for it, eager, greedy, not desperate exactly, more ... hungry. So I decided in advance that I wouldn't cum myself that Thursday night, just concentrate on making him cum. And that was interesting and enjoyable in itself.
Come the Saturday, and greedy I definitely was. Six lovely orgasms spread over a gorgeous couple of hours of naughtiness. On which I will spill the beans (*giggles*) at some point, no doubt
Fast forward to Wednesday evening this week, late evening, the fire was dwindling, the candles were guttering, and we were reaching the end of a lovely sensual fuck. I'd cum twice already, he was definitely reaching 'final approach', if not actually in the glide slope, as it were
"Do you want to cum again", he asked me, ever the gentleman
And I knew I could, and I would enjoy it, but I decided to forego it. If we fuck on Hump Day, we almost always fuck again on the Friday, and I knew we would be at home alone and so able to indulge in what has become a winter Friday treat, known as 'wine-sex-wine'*
It seems to really work for me, a good rhythm in my life, a regularity. I know if I cum too often, the intensity of the climaxes reduces, and I prefer fewer, very intense orgasms than loads of less intense releases. It wouldn't be a good thing if I didn't have the luxury of knowing that the next fuck will be pretty much whenever I want it. My man has a powerful sex-drive, and at 55 his enthusiasm, skill and capacity are undimmed
And on this occasion, as I knew it would, stopping short on Wednesday meant that 'wine-sex-wine' was as lovely an entry to the weekend as ever
--oo0oo--
* 'wine-sex-wine':
The clue is in the name really
A glass of chilled white wine in the very late afternoon, perhaps some nibbles to keep the energy levels up. Lounging around, few (if any) clothes, chatting, sipping, unwinding. At some point the chatting might become more filthy, a hand might slip under a robe or run over a flank just that little bit higher than is simply affectionate. There's an understanding, a tension, an anticipation.
The wine drunk, it's on to the sex, benefitting from the time taken to relax properly. No need to rush, a slow build, in this scenario it's usually unhurried, sensual, lots of eye contact, skin to skin, the joining of two bodies very familiar to each other but enjoyed anew. Lots of arousal, lots of climaxes, lots of clean-up afterwards
A look at the clock, surprise at how late it's got, he disappears to make dinner, and then we enjoy a bottle of red wine with whatever he's cooked, finishing it while we watch a film, say, all the time feeling that beautiful physical tiredness that comes after a good sexual workout.
Wine-sex-wine. Perfect.
(More ramblings here...)
Just starting to. Having cooked a bit of it with a fever of 101 and another fever of 102 the next day...it was a bit tough on top of our loss. But in the end we all enjoyed it.Thank you, lovely man, I thought that one might plummet without trace!
I'm glad you enjoyed it, and thank you for your lovely compliments
You paint such a wonderful and erotic portrait with your words, lovely Numi! Exciting as hell!
Thanks Numi it means a lot to meOof, that's some fever....
Were you still clearing up after Turkey Day?
PS: Why thank you! First time I've worn fishnets in a while. Ms Honey's 'Fun with AVs' challenge was too much to resist
.
No I was helping my parents do prep work for putting up Christmas decorations.
PPS: You should wear them more often.
Just stopping in for a hello a hug and maybe a cup of tea? Coffee? Before I need to get ready for work. Don't mind the bed head and robe .
)Hello! *hugs you*
Tea, yes, let's do tea. Earl Grey?
I'm actually in my robe too (yes, I know it's lunch time here, but I just got out of my post-workout bath...
Bed head.... Sounds gorgeous
On foregoing orgasm
I touched on this recently, in my rambling about an evening of fellatio. It was a Thursday night a few weeks ago, we had naughty plans for the Saturday, and I wanted to be very ready for it, eager, greedy, not desperate exactly, more ... hungry. So I decided in advance that I wouldn't cum myself that Thursday night, just concentrate on making him cum. And that was interesting and enjoyable in itself.
Come the Saturday, and greedy I definitely was. Six lovely orgasms spread over a gorgeous couple of hours of naughtiness. On which I will spill the beans (*giggles*) at some point, no doubt
Fast forward to Wednesday evening this week, late evening, the fire was dwindling, the candles were guttering, and we were reaching the end of a lovely sensual fuck. I'd cum twice already, he was definitely reaching 'final approach', if not actually in the glide slope, as it were
"Do you want to cum again", he asked me, ever the gentleman
And I knew I could, and I would enjoy it, but I decided to forego it. If we fuck on Hump Day, we almost always fuck again on the Friday, and I knew we would be at home alone and so able to indulge in what has become a winter Friday treat, known as 'wine-sex-wine'*
It seems to really work for me, a good rhythm in my life, a regularity. I know if I cum too often, the intensity of the climaxes reduces, and I prefer fewer, very intense orgasms than loads of less intense releases. It wouldn't be a good thing if I didn't have the luxury of knowing that the next fuck will be pretty much whenever I want it. My man has a powerful sex-drive, and at 55 his enthusiasm, skill and capacity are undimmed
And on this occasion, as I knew it would, stopping short on Wednesday meant that 'wine-sex-wine' was as lovely an entry to the weekend as ever
--oo0oo--
* 'wine-sex-wine':
The clue is in the name really
A glass of chilled white wine in the very late afternoon, perhaps some nibbles to keep the energy levels up. Lounging around, few (if any) clothes, chatting, sipping, unwinding. At some point the chatting might become more filthy, a hand might slip under a robe or run over a flank just that little bit higher than is simply affectionate. There's an understanding, a tension, an anticipation.
The wine drunk, it's on to the sex, benefitting from the time taken to relax properly. No need to rush, a slow build, in this scenario it's usually unhurried, sensual, lots of eye contact, skin to skin, the joining of two bodies very familiar to each other but enjoyed anew. Lots of arousal, lots of climaxes, lots of clean-up afterwards
A look at the clock, surprise at how late it's got, he disappears to make dinner, and then we enjoy a bottle of red wine with whatever he's cooked, finishing it while we watch a film, say, all the time feeling that beautiful physical tiredness that comes after a good sexual workout.
Wine-sex-wine. Perfect.
(More ramblings here...)
Earl grey would be lovely. Have enough? I don't want you to run out.
Excellent! We can lounge in relaxed comfort while we girl chat with our tea.
Since then I have kept enormous stocks in at all times So we'll be fine.
And a long road trip, now that's a good idea. With some challenges, breakdowns, the odd puncture thrown in, a very good test.
And good morning/afternoon to you. 
Hehe, you remembered my nearly a week without Earl Grey!
I might even braid your bedhead hair for you
Hehe, you remembered my nearly a week without Earl Grey!
I might even braid your bedhead hair for you
