Shattering the Myth

  “Then we’ll work them out, if you just tell me what they are. But you’re not leaving me, Bridget!” I could see the anger and hurt all over his face. It was killing me inside.

  “I’ve tried to talk to you about them. Given you every hint in the book, and you never give me a positive response!” We were both raising our voices. It wasn’t a pleasant encounter because we had never argued in our marriage, partly because I was so submissive to him and accepted everything without question.

  I’m so glad I confronted him, because he came over to the counter and held me, telling me how much he loved me and was willing to do anything to make it work.

  We retired to the bedroom and lay there in each other’s arms. I told him everything about my daydreams, the masturbation, the things I desired. He admitted he had a problem opening up sexually, saying it would make him feel like he was disrespecting me to do certain things.

  I reminded him of how we had agreed to save oral sex until the honeymoon, but to that day, it had never once happened. I also told him I wanted us to experiment with different positions and toys. The toy statement threw his ass for a loop. I suggested we just go to sleep because it was getting late and we both had to work in the A.M. Since the next day was Friday, I suggested we go shopping after work together.

  After Drake got off from work, he swung by the apartment and picked me up. I had already looked up the address of the store I was looking for in the yellow pages and called to inquire about their business hours. My girlfriend, the same one who taught me how to masturbate, mentioned the place to me, saying it was where she purchased all her sexual playthings.

  We found the store, called the Pleasure Palace, in a secluded alley downtown. It was off the hook! Drake was ready to turn around and leave the moment we walked in the door. I was expecting a few interesting items but nothing close to what they actually had. They had some shit I had never imagined.

  They had the normal stuff like vibrators, dildos, adult videos and magazines, vulgar-printed tees, sexy lingerie, etc. They also sold adult board games, oils that get hot when you blow on them, novelty items such as penis ballpoint pens, male and female strip pens where the people lose their clothes when you turn them upside down. All sorts of wild stuff. They even had penis and asshole pen holders and a monkey-jerking-off key chain. They had turbo-powered vibrators, vibrators in neon colors, and even vibrators with tongue and anal sleeves. They had anal beads, Ben Wa balls, butt plugs, the whole nine yards.

  They sold neon condoms, vibrator cleaner and lube combos, hand-job lubrication lotions, nipple drops in different flavors such as guava/pineapple, orange/mango, and strawberry/kiwi, edible climax gel, anal eze gel, and cherry-flavored stay-hard creme. They had leather whips and chains, masks, three-snap leather cock rings that came with or without spikes, studded cock-and-ball harnesses, three-piece leather cock-and-ball dividers, handcuffs. My personal favorite was the gates of hell, a cock-ring set of three or five held together by a leather strap that a man wears on the shaft of his dick while he fucks you.

  After much convincing, I talked Drake into staying, reminding him of our conversation the night before. He agreed, but said he did have his limits. I reassured him I would never ask him to do anything that made him feel humiliated or uneasy. From that point on, it was cool. We shopped together, going up and down each aisle, as if we were at the local supermarket.

  We left the Pleasure Palace about an hour later with a shopping bag full of goodies, got into Drake’s car, and headed home. I could tell Drake was very tense in the car and reached over, caressing his leg. He was as stiff as a board. I knew that if I could just get him to relax and let his inner sexual desires escape from the stronghold his mind had constructed around them, our sex life would be extremely gratifying.

  I reached into the shopping bag and pulled out one of the items I had selected: a big black, ribbed dildo. Drake’s eyes lit up when I put one of my feet up on the dashboard, lifted my skirt, pushed my panties to the side, and slowly inserted the tip of it into my pussy walls.

  He almost lost control of the car, but I continued pushing more and more of it in until only the bottom of it was sticking out and started fucking myself with it. I used my other hand to caress my nipples through my cotton blouse and really started getting into it, licking my lips and moaning from the intense pleasure derived from the hard, thick dildo.

  Drake managed to say, “Bridget, how come you never told me you were like this?”

  I looked him right in the eyes and replied, “Because you never asked, baby!”

  I let go of my breasts and started caressing his dick through his pants instead. I could tell Drake was turned on by it. What man seeing his woman masturbate in front of him wouldn’t get turned on? Even though I had never used a dildo before, I had developed quite an expertise in the masturbation arena, so it was easy for me to cum all over the leather seat of his car. He was done in when he saw it because, as I mentioned before, I never came when he and I had sex.

  We were driving past a city park, and I told him to pull over in a parking space. At this point, he became the submissive one in the marriage. I loved it then and love it now. Drake loves it too.

  I got out the car and walked over to a park bench by the large water fountain in the center of the park. It was dark and deserted as Drake followed me over to the bench. I lifted up my skirt, bent over the backside of the bench, and told him to rip my panties off. He walked up behind me but didn’t rip them off, so I said it louder, “RIP MY PANTIES OFF!” He not only tore them off but also tore them bad boys to shreds.

  Then my husband, the one who would never turn the lights on, would never have oral sex, would never try anything new, fucked the hell out of me from behind, and I was thrilled beyond compare. The only noises were the trickling of the water cascading from the fountain, filled at the bottom with pennies tossed in by people who made wishes, and our heavy breathing.

  Drake pulled my hair back and started fucking me real hard. He asked, “Am I hurting you?”

  I told him, “No, fuck me harder!” He did just that until we came in unison.

  Afterward, I sat there in his lap on the bench, and we laughed and giggled like we never had before. We went home, and Drake did everything I asked him to. He fucked me with the dildo, played a sexual board game with me, stuck anal beads in my ass while I was riding his dick and pulled them out as I was cumming. He even handcuffed me to our bed, blindfolded on my stomach, and fucked me from behind again. Then we took a long, hot shower together and performed oral sex on each other for the very first time.

  I had waited so long for the moment, and it was more than worth it. We have oral sex just about every day now, not to mention all the other things we do to each other. The Pleasure Palace has become our favorite store in Akron, and we are two of their biggest customers. We can’t get enough of trying out new things, and our marriage is fantastic.

  Recently, one of my friends from high school surprised me with a call. My mother gave her my new number, and we played catch up over the phone. She started telling me how her married life was depressing her. Ironically, when I asked her why, she had the same problem I had in the beginning—an unreceptive husband. I recalled the phrase “Each One, Teach One” and thought about how a friend had helped me out in my time of need. I started telling her the basic techniques of masturbation, all about sex toys and things she could do to spice up her sex life. She was concerned her husband wouldn’t do any of it. I told her she had to put her foot down like I did and tell him, “It’s time for a change!”

  Get Well Soon

  I never saw the car coming until it knocked me ten feet up in the air. As soon as I hit the asphalt, I knew my leg was broken. I heard the crunch. The pain was unreal and worse than anything I could have ever imagined.

  The driver, some teenager who looked like she should be at home playing with dolls instead of driving a car, and her two friends jumped out and crowded around me along with other people who brought their ca
rs to a complete halt. One of the pedestrians was a med student. He told everyone not to move me until the ambulance arrived. He talked to me and asked me where it hurt, what my name was, and all the usual questions.

  I could hear the sirens approaching as I watched the driver fall into one of her friends’ arms and start to wail. I got the distinct feeling she was more concerned about whether or not she would lose her driver’s license than my welfare.

  Two days later, there I was, laid up in the hospital with my left leg elevated in a cast and suffering from a severe case of depression. You had been to see me on a daily basis, but when the nurse told us visiting hours were over, I was devastated. You were the only thing that brightened up my day, and they made you leave.

  After you left, I found some late-night talk shows on the tube and nibbled off the fried chicken dinner I asked you to sneak in for me so I wouldn’t have to eat the nasty-looking meat loaf and processed mashed potatoes they served me for dinner.

  I was in a private room with no one to talk to, so once midnight rolled around, I decided I might as well give it up and hit the sack. The night nurse, whose attitude left a lot to be desired, had already come in and taken my temperature and blood pressure, given me some painkiller, and checked the dressing on my leg, so she was off my back, at least for a little while.

  I had just dozed off into a light sleep, with the television still on, since I can’t sleep without noise, when I heard the door to my hospital room creak open. Much to my surprise, I opened my eyes to find you standing over my bed with a bottle of champagne, two flutes, a picnic basket, and a dozen roses. You are always such the romantic, but you had outdone yourself this time.

  I asked you what the hell you were doing there, and you told me about the covert operation that you undertook to sneak in the hospital and into my room. That is when I noticed you had on surgery scrubs and a stethoscope. You looked dayum sexy in the dim light coming from the bathroom and television screen.

  You told me how you snuck in through the delivery entrance, found the laundry room and put on the clothes, and found the stethoscope at one of the nurses’ stations on your way up. I asked you what the hell you would have done if someone asked you what the roses and picnic basket were for. You said you would have just told them you have one hell of a bedside manner.

  As it turned out, you did have one hell of a bedside manner. For a little while, you made me forget I was laid up in a hospital bed with a broken leg. You took me to another world.

  First, you fed me some chocolate-covered strawberries and champagne and recited poems to me. You had written them because you missed me at home so much, even though it had only been a couple days.

  Then, you fed me wheat crackers along with some Brie cheese and finished it all off with my favorite cheesecake from the deli across the street from our house. You always tease me about being such a cheese fanatic, saying I should have been born a mouse. For a second, we heard someone walking down the hallway and figured we were busted, but whomever it was walked on by.

  After you sated my palette, you decided to sate yours. You unfastened the top of my hospital gown and let it droop down over my shoulders. When you broke out the bottle of honey, I knew I was in for a special treat, and indeed I was. You squeezed some over my breasts and licked it slowly off my hard nipples. Normally, I would have wrapped my legs around your waist and gyrated my pussy on your dick, but I couldn’t. One of them was a foot above the bed and in shambles. I had to just lie back and enjoy the ecstasy your tongue was bringing me. My pussy was thumping like a rabbit’s foot and pussy juice was leaking through my panties.

  That is, until you removed them and stuck your beautiful, bald head between my thighs and found the cherry you were looking for. You sucked on each one of my pussy lips individually and then made your way to my clit like a gerbil running through a maze. Instead of a gerbil, your tongue was doing the running. You ate me with such intensity, determined to ensure I would cum at least three times. I came four.

  You raised the back of my hospital bed with the automatic button on the side and then managed to position yourself in front of me so I could get to my real dessert, your dick. I helped you undo the drawstring on the surgical pants and whip it out. You glided it in and out of my mouth for me so I wouldn’t have to do a lot of work. You knew I was drugged up on painkillers, so you did it slowly. I savored every bit of it. I lifted it up, flicking my tongue over the corona on the bottom, which made you shiver and grab hold of the safety rails.

  My desire for you grew until I took your whole dick in my mouth, grabbed a hold of your ass cheeks, and made you pump your dick into my throat faster and faster. My saliva trickled out the corners of my mouth as your dick took up all the room, forcing it out. I sucked and sucked until you exploded in my mouth. We both moaned and shivered because you got to cum and I got to taste you.

  We heard a gurney being pushed down the hall and some voices, but once again, we were safe. We figured it was someone being admitted to the hospital late at night, being pushed to his or her assigned room. I suggested you leave before someone walked in on us. You weren’t even having it. You said you weren’t leaving until you made sure I was completely satisfied.

  It took a whole lot of maneuvering but somehow you managed to get your dick in me, even with the elevated leg. You reached over on the nightstand for the stethoscope you had swiped from the nurses’ station and put the plugs to your ears. You put the cold part against my chest and listened to my heart pulsating in my chest as you fucked the hell out of me. It made you go crazy. I was wondering why it got such a reaction out of you until you put the plugs on my ears and let me listen to your heart. It was breathtaking; feeling your dick pumping in and out of me and listening to blood pump through your heart at the same time. I had the biggest orgasm ever. In fact, we were both shocked when cum squirted out of me like it does from your dick. Once you saw that, it was all over. You came big-time and laid there in my arms with your chest on top of mine. Both our hearts were jumping out of our chests.

  You still didn’t leave, saying you had one more thing to accomplish. You pulled out a jar of fudge sauce from the picnic basket you had warmed in the microwave before you left home. Miraculously, it was still warm. You poured some of the sauce on my elevated foot and then licked it all off, sucking each one of my toes at a time. You know how much I love to have my toes sucked. It is the closest a woman can ever come to knowing what it feels like to a man when he has his dick sucked.

  You took it to the other foot, pouring sauce on my toes, and then began sucking them one at a time, swirling your tongue around them while they were in your mouth. I came again.

  Finally, you decided you better make a dash for the border. It was nearing 3 A.M., and we both knew the nurse would be coming to take my temperature and give me some more painkiller. You gave me the book of African-American poetry you bought for me, kissed me good night, and then snuck out. I laid there reveling in the passion you had shown me, fantasizing about you until I fell asleep.

  Dinner at Eight

  “Honey, I was in such a rush to get ready for tonight, I completely forgot to put on my panties!” I grinned at you, whispering those words in your ear as the valet pulled off with our car.

  We had just arrived at your company Christmas party, being held at a luxury hotel downtown. Your company, one of the biggest brokerage firms on the East Coast, rented out the revolving restaurant on the top level.

  We entered the lobby of the hotel, and the bellman suggested we take the glass elevator up instead of the regular elevators in the center of the building. It was a beautiful, clear December evening, and the view of the city was magnificent as the elevator ascended to the restaurant on the fortieth floor. There were two other couples on the elevator with us on their way to the party. We spoke to them, and one of the men was from your department. The two of you discussed a client on the way up.

  I was standing behind you, and none of the others could see my hands. I lifted up
the back of your dinner jacket and started feeling up your ass. You jumped a little at first, startled that I would even do something like that. I’m usually very conservative in public, but I had been horny all day and couldn’t resist you, Christmas party or no Christmas party.

  By the time you arrived home, time was of the essence since the sit-down dinner was scheduled for eight. We had to rush out the house. My plans for a quickie were ruined. I was still horny and knew I would be until you broke me off a little sumptin’ sumptin’.

  When we got upstairs to the rooftop restaurant, the maître d’ informed us we would be seated at the table with the head of the company and his wife. You turned to me and looked at me with your sexy-ass eyes. “Boo, you better behave.”

  I rolled my eyes and straightened your tie for you, moving close enough up on you so I could brush my pussy up against your dick. “Okay, boo, if you insist!”

  I gave you a devilish grin and then we followed the maître d’ to the table. You put your hand on the small of my back as we were walking, and it gave me goosebumps. After all this time, even your touches arouse me.

  All the others were already seated at the table when we arrived. We did the usual greetings. Your boss’s wife complimented me on my black evening gown. I returned the favor. We ordered a round of drinks to sip from while the dinner was being prepared.

  I ordered a piña colada, and you ordered a vodka and orange juice. When the drinks arrived, I took the cherry out of mine, popped it in my mouth, and did that thing with it that drives you wild. I tied the cherry string into a bow with my long tongue and then sat it down in front of you. You were in the middle of a conversation with your boss, but almost lost it when you saw the cherry string. I could tell it made you horny, thinking about how I use my tongue so methodically on your dick.

  The dinner salads and rolls were served while the boring chitchat continued. I asked you to pass me the butter, and when you did, I caressed your fingertips, engaging you in a stare. Saying I would behave and actually doing it are two totally different things—especially when I’m as horny as I was that night.