My prudishness, though, isn't to say at all that I absolutely didn't fucking love fucking...
It was more like, as sincerely and as earnestly as I may have desired it, I was deeply ashamed of my hidden carnal impulses. I didn't dare admit to anyone around me that such a sexual, untamed beast lay beneath the surface of my innocent, straight-edged veneer. That I thought about cock and fucking with such frequency that it made my head spin, or that my resisting temptations was an ability that came to me at a high, sometimes unbearable costs.
Because, believe me when I say, the temptations out there for me were many, and they arose and aroused with almost a relentless force. It didn't help me out one bit that I was an especially attractive girl, a firecracker in the looks department who was capable of making men drool whenever I walked past (not to mention, less politely, making them sprout only the hardest of hard-ons.)
I knew damn well that, should I only allow myself to indulge these innermost fantasies, I could have had any man I wanted. I could have been pleased in any and every way I desired, thrilled to the brink, and left so satisfied that it would defy even my own wildest, wettest expectations.
But on top of all that, there were my numerous, excessive reservations about sex, holding me back, restraining me- and not in the kinky, handcuffs and dog collars sort of way that being held back and restrained can be made titillating.
Derek changed that for me. All of that. He unleashed the inner vixen, revealing to me my true self, and allowing me to be that version of myself without it causing me shame or discomfort with who I was.
It wasn't an immediate transition, though, mind you. From the beginning, I had had no idea that the same sort of kinky beast with two backs lay beneath Derek's presentable veneer as that which forever threatened me from within. As far as I could tell, being with Derek meant settling as far as sex was concerned. Not in the looks department, or anything like that. Derek was a suave, sexy gentleman, with an easygoing manner, devilishly handsome looks, and a smile that perhaps went the furthest in hinting as to his secretly naughty truer nature.
No, I wasn't “settling” for the Derek in the way it might sound, like I thought I could have done better and I took Derek only as a consolation in exchange for that which I truly craved. That wasn't the case at all, I can assure you with confidence.
Rather, it was more the case that I felt like I was being tamed somehow by my loving Derek. Here was a normal guy, sexual enough in nature, as are most men when prompted (or otherwise). But presumably without the intense, irresistible draw toward kink and fantasy that I so often felt pulling on me. This wasn't, of course, to say that he was in any way a subpar lover. Hell, our honeymoon alone was evidence enough to refute that notion. The two of us made the bed rock like mad, slamming the headboard so loud against the wall of our honeymoon suite that at least five separate guests on our floors filed complaints about us with the management (and that was just as many as we knew about...)
But, as great as his skills may have been and as adept and as enthusiastic as he may have presented himself in pleasing me, I just didn't see that same desire for something more, something naughtier beneath his surface. Derek certainly liked to fuck, but by all appearances it was really quite the casual, vanilla interest in fucking, without any particular spice or deviation from the norm, which was precisely what I wanted despite my inability to find it. Hell, he didn't even make a move to get me in bed until like our fifth date together, which, by modern dating standards, is practically an eternity. Or at least, that's my perspective about things.
But around a few months into our marriage together, when I thought my hopes for indulging these secret vixen-esque tendencies of mine was all but a fantasy, I came to the realization that Derek, beneath the surface, could be as kinky and as gutter-minded as the best of them- he'd simply been too polite to make his deeper intentions known at that particular point in time, waiting to earn my trust until the opportune moment, so that he knew that, in the event that his spicy idea was offensive to me, he could readily withdraw it with the least damage done.
I still remember that night like it was yesterday, its details fresh in my mind, crisp and practically visible whenever I reflect upon it...
It was the weekend, and the two of us hadn't really been doing all that much of anything. We'd been exhausted by our respective jobs that week, and had decided that just lazing around like two lazy-ass bums was perhaps the best remedy for the tiring days that lay behind us. Accordingly, we were sprawled out across our marital bed, neither of us looking especially good in sweat pants and t-shirts, but of course sexiness was all a matter of perspective, of the moment in question and the circumstances that arose.
We were watching some movie or something on the plasma screen at the foot of our bed. I don't even remember what it was now- I just recall that it was something on one of those premium cable channels, the kind that allows a lot of graphic nudity and excessive moments of, ahem, titillation and ecstasy in their programming.
I remember this fact because, at that point, a sex scene had come on- an especially steamy one at that, and it was getting me wet and bothered as I slid my legs across one another in an effort at self-control. I was gritting my teeth, trying not to get to wild with lust, afraid of making myself look like a damn wild animal in Derek's presence.
Suddenly, though, I found myself jumping at the touch of his hand at the small of my back. Sensations prickled away up my spine as is fingers traced out soft, loving shapes across my flesh, and I turned slowly, tenderly to face my man, feeling horny as a toad as I looked into his eyes, and a terrible, perfect grin spread wide across his lips. A slight tilt of my eyes, and I discovered, to my pleasure, that his sweat pants were bulging with erection, the contours of his shaft pushing visibly through the fabric, and his own physiology reacting the same way to the sights and sounds onscreen as my own.
I licked my lips at him, and slowly reached a hand up to grab at the bulge in question...
And that was how it all began... That was how we started down the path of oh so wonderful debauchery and depravity, and how the events in question eventually came to be.
I slid my hand down into his pants, and seized a firm hold on him. He was hot, and felt wonderful in my grip, making me burn for him, and I began to kiss him wildly, needing some manner of relief from the intense desires presently sizzling to the surface inside me.
The next thing I knew, I was giving way in earnest to temptation. I was letting slip the carefully placed mask that had hidden my true self for so very long, revealing my true, sexually explicit nature to the man I loved at last, and forgetting about my shame.
We kissed wildly, passionately, and his hands slid all over my heated body, loving me in that very special way of his, every pressing and every squeezing of my anatomy feeling perfect and pleasurable in every way. I stroked him tenderly, then viciously, and then with such a thirst for him that I might have caused him bodily injury in such a frenzy had he not restrained me.
Our clothes seemed to dissolve from our bodies like it was nothing, like the fabric consisted of liquid and nothing more. And before I knew it, I was up on top of him naked, our bodies melting together and smashing to the sounds of the couple making love onscreen.
The onscreen couple had finished doing the deed well before Derek and I reached our respective climaxes, and we missed a considerable portion of the movie after that point. But of course, we didn't mind this at all given the exchange that had been made, and by the time the two of us had finished howling and sweating and screaming at the tops of our lungs, we felt as though the scene we'd just created together had been far sweeter and more tantalizing than anything that could be shown onscreen.
It was some of the best sex the two of us had had since our honeymoon, amplified as it had been by the notion of another couple being in the room with us at the time, watching us.
And that, we decided, was only the beginning...
It was Derek's idea to begin taking things furt
her, pushing our limits, and though I was admittedly a bit sheepish about it all at first, I went along happily with him, simply waiting for him to suggest things that I might have already been craving desperately. That way, it could seem like I was simply jumping on board with him, and for at least a little while longer I could keep pretending to be the tame and innocent wife I liked to make him think I was.
At first, the shift from that first time wasn't quite so dramatic. We started out by having porn playing the background whenever the two of us had sex, to give the illusion that there was someone else in the room with us while he and I were doing it. The charges on my cable bill, I had to say, were a little bit embarrassing at first. But the benefits far outweighed any potential awkwardness as, with the moaning and groaning of porn stars onscreen in the background, Derek and I engaged in some of the most tremendous, bed-rocking, mind-blowing, toe-curling, sheet-sweating, and all in all explosive sex since the night of our honeymoon.
It's hard to describe just what made it so damn thrilling from start to finish... My notion is that it's something deep down and primal that makes such acts so arousing. I've read that men, when watching another male have sex with a woman, become more virile in their lovemaking, their seed becoming more potent and more effective, and so on. It's like a means of staying competitive, of ensuring that the woman who's about to potentially be fertilized is planted with only the best seed.
And from anecdotal experience, at least, I can readily attest to the fact that the presence, simulated or otherwise, of another man and/or woman in our bedroom unleashed something monstrous in my husband's sex drive. It made him more adventurous, even more passionate a lover than he'd already been, driving me to the utmost heights of pleasure and then holding me there. Holding, holding, holding, causing me to burst and erupt and to scream until he'd finished having his way with me, and I was left shaking with pleasure for some time after.
And of course, once we'd unleashed the monstrous side of our collective sexuality, there was no restraining it any longer- and inevitably, it led to things progressing even further...
I think, to some extent, the idea had formed in both of our minds at approximately the same time, but had remained unspoken for such an extensive period that it seemed almost stifling between the two of us.
I wanted Derek, so badly, to bring up the subject that was forever on my mind as of late, craving him to do so with every fiber of my being. I was still too shy to do it myself, but crossed my fingers and toes after every lovemaking session that that would be the one that would push him over the edge, and make him ask the question that I'd been longing to hear.
At last, it happened one evening.
I was laying there, naked on the bed, exhausted, but blissful as ever with what the two of us had just gotten through doing to one another. I was staring down my nose at the TV, watching the continued grinding of naked bodies onscreen, moaning and pumping and sweating, and I was beginning to feel worn out just looking at it. I wondered how the hell the people could work up such an intense sexual stamina as that which porn stars seemed to possess, and I wondered how much further depravity I would have to own up to before I reached such levels of duration myself.
That was when, out of nowhere, Derek began to kiss my weary, sweaty body all over, pecking me lightly, rolling his tongue along the perspiring planes, tasting me. I giggled, and he began to suckle on my breast, causing me to close my eyes and tilt my head back with pleasure.
At last he stopped, and I opened my eyes to look down at him.
“You're so beautiful,” he said in a low, bedroom voice.
“I know,” I said, grinning and wrinkling my nose at him. “Thank you...”
He kissed me a few more times, and then said, “I had an idea the other day... Something that could be fun... But I'm not sure how you'd feel about it.”
“Hm... I guess you'll just have to tell me what it is and we can find out,” I said smiling, clearly tormenting him with my petulant tones.
“Well, alright... But you have to promise me you won't get mad if you don't like it...”
“I can't promise that,” I teased, still smiling, and even as I knew what he would ask, I loved holding it over his head like this. His face was getting red with embarrassment, and I added, “You have to tell me what it is first, and then I can decide whether or not I should scream at you.”
He smiled at me, amused, but clearly I'd made him second guess himself. He seemed to hesitate now, and just to ease him along a little bit, I reached down, seizing the shaft of his dick in my hands, and stroked it. “Go ahead babe,” I amended. “Say what you want to say.”
He sighed, breathing deep as I rubbed his cock, and at last he seemed to grow comfortable with the notion of broaching the subject with me.
“Well... What if, instead of just porn... What if, instead, we actually had someone come in and watch us during sex? You know, like... Like voyeurism...”
I continued to stare lustfully into his eyes, and I continued to pump his shaft in my grip for several moments without answering, building up tension and doubt in his mind.
“Well, Mr. Pitman,” I said, feeling as though I'd tormented the poor bastard enough by this point with my hesitation, “I think I might warm up quite nicely to that idea of yours...” And with that, I ran my kisses further down along his body, and at last took his rapidly stiffening cock in my mouth.
I would be lying if I said the decision, for me at least, was as easy as that. I was not, by any means, without my reservations at first. But for that matter, I don't think Derek really was either.
Of course, we wanted to be careful, and make sure that the two of us went about doing this the right way, if indeed there did happen to be a right way for going about such a thing (we presumed that there must be, at any rate.) There was, of course, that old me beneath the surface that tended to resist such extreme acts of fancy as that which my husband was suggesting. There was a shyness, an uncertainty to be overcome, but I knew that the only way to do so would be to simply take the plunge. There was really no pussyfooting around it (pun intended) and no amount of delaying such splendid gratification was going to make eventually going through with it one bit easier for me.
The two of us went about the prospect of selecting our voyeurs together, posting an online ad and waiting for replies, then seeing what the pickings were once the e-mails rolled in. There were, to be sure, quite a few creeps to be found out there. But we manage to sift through the sketchier individuals to find people who seemed more in line with what we were looking for, and together we managed to connect with just the right people who suited our needs.
Mostly, the voyeurs tended to be men, but occasionally a single woman would throw herself into the mix, and frequently couples would present themselves to watch us as well. To be sure, it did take some getting used to that first time, with a man sitting at the foot of the bed, watching us while we went about our marital ecstasies. I found that my eyes kept going down to him, and that I couldn't focus on the act of being fucked to the extent that I should be. My husband, too, seemed to have some difficulty getting completely hard at the beginning.
But, gradually, we managed with success to screw our way into it, and rather than sheepishness, the voyeur in the corner at last managed to evoke that same sheer, unbridled depravity in us that watching pornography did.
That night Derek fucked me harder than ever before, and I came with a force so formidable that it defied words. The man in the corner, all the while, was masturbating wildly to the sight of us, the sound of his fist smashing wildly against his pelvis adding to the already intense eroticism of the scene.
By the time that first steamy session of voyeurism had concluded to satisfaction, I was as sold on the notion of being watched during intercourse as it was possible to be. All three of the parties involved had had one hell of a time, and Derek and I agreed that, sexually, this was the best thing to happen in our marriage since the advent of anal sex on his birthday.
And so, the two of us continued on in our dirty, filthy ways, screwing before such a varied audience that it seemed before long half the town had witnessed us going at it. Each time began to feel more intense than the last, the two of us pushing ourselves to new challenges and adding even more erotic elements to our lovemaking. For instance, in one case our voyeur happened to be a dominatrix, and she agreed to whip my husband's ass with a leather cord while he fucked me while she touched herself, though that was the full and complete extent of her participation.
It was after this session of extra tormenting kink that Derek first brought up the subject with me of, perhaps, taking things just one step beyond that which we'd already made it up to, and engaging in our first ever menage a trois with a third sexual partner.
I would be lying if I said that the idea wasn't a titillating one for me from the moment the words passed his lips... But for right now, that seemed like it was too much for me to take in (pun intended), and I told him as much. As fun and as exciting as the sessions of voyeurism tended to be, I had reservations about the idea of engaging in an actual threesome. It seemed like it could result in jealousies and feelings of ill will that could prove threatening to our marriage, and I had a difficult time in my head with seeing the advantages outweighing the risks on any level.
Game of Throbs Complete Series (Books 1-3) Page 14