The other night, after toasting the end of another day of real-world responsibilities with a couple glasses of Glenfiddich 15, Susan called me up to our bedroom. It was dark when I walked in, the only light flickering from a bank of candles set up on one of the windowsills. Susan was wearing a pair of tall, knee-high boots and … nothing else. But I had no time to enjoy the view. Before I could verbally express my delight, she blindfolded me. And then escorted me to the bed, stripped me naked, and laid me down.
“Then I got the feather tickler out,” Susan says.
Which was definitely unexpected. She swept it up and down my chest and abdomen, and along my thigh. Next, she traced the same pattern across my torso and down my other leg. Occasionally she’d take it away altogether and I’d squirm for more.
“I was teasing my own nipples whenever I did that!” Susan says, still beaming about her conquest.
That explains why the duration of those pauses seemed to continually increase. Robbed of my vision, I was at Susan’s mercy as to when and where she’d get back to work with the tickler. I’d anticipate a brush down my arm and instead she’d gently stroke my cheek. It was invigorating on several levels. And then, for the first time that night, she caressed my member with the feathers, and I thought I was finished.
“When I ‘dusted’ along his shaft and down to his balls, his cock actually surged,” Susan says. “So I dropped the feather tickler and grabbed the last item from the set, the LELO Noa. I turned it on and put it in, but right before I slid myself down on Rydell’s cock, I yanked the blindfold off!”
It was an incredible scene that left me completely powerless to practice any sort of climax control: The blind buildup with the tickler, the black boots, my wife — outfitted with a wicked smile across her face and a couples’ vibrator already buzzing her pussy — straddling me. Indeed, I was finished.
“The stereotype is that women never want a man to come quickly,” Susan says. “Let me explain something to you. After 16 years of marriage, I’m proud as hell that Rydell still gets so excited by me that sometimes he just can’t hold back.”
“Then I got the feather tickler out,” Susan says.
Which was definitely unexpected. She swept it up and down my chest and abdomen, and along my thigh. Next, she traced the same pattern across my torso and down my other leg. Occasionally she’d take it away altogether and I’d squirm for more.
“I was teasing my own nipples whenever I did that!” Susan says, still beaming about her conquest.
That explains why the duration of those pauses seemed to continually increase. Robbed of my vision, I was at Susan’s mercy as to when and where she’d get back to work with the tickler. I’d anticipate a brush down my arm and instead she’d gently stroke my cheek. It was invigorating on several levels. And then, for the first time that night, she caressed my member with the feathers, and I thought I was finished.
“When I ‘dusted’ along his shaft and down to his balls, his cock actually surged,” Susan says. “So I dropped the feather tickler and grabbed the last item from the set, the LELO Noa. I turned it on and put it in, but right before I slid myself down on Rydell’s cock, I yanked the blindfold off!”
It was an incredible scene that left me completely powerless to practice any sort of climax control: The blind buildup with the tickler, the black boots, my wife — outfitted with a wicked smile across her face and a couples’ vibrator already buzzing her pussy — straddling me. Indeed, I was finished.
“The stereotype is that women never want a man to come quickly,” Susan says. “Let me explain something to you. After 16 years of marriage, I’m proud as hell that Rydell still gets so excited by me that sometimes he just can’t hold back.”
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