Fetish Review Blog

strokes and movement. I’d relaxed but the last couple of minutes started my

motor up again. He then went down and washed my sex, getting the hair first and

then making sure there were no stray drops of the cooking oil inside. I came

leaning back against the wall. When I had my breath back, he handed me the wash

cloth and told me that it was now my turn. I’m sure I grinned as I repeated the

procedure on him. The water was beginning to run cold by the time we were both

done. He dried me off and put my collar back on. (When had he taken it off?) He

lead me to the bed. I would normally have found something pretty to wear, but J

wouldn’t allow it. We both slept nude, or he did, I was after all wearing my

collar. It was a very odd night. Very sensual. He made love to me then, right

after we got into the bed, but he didn’t come (though I did). Then he explained

to me that my job was to service him whenever he had the urge all night. He’s a

very light sleeper. I don’t know how many times he woke up and took me or had me

go down on him, or flipped me on my back and licked me until I was screaming my

orgasm. I have no idea how many times he made me come. Sometime in the middle

of the night he came, his member buried in my bottom. Each time he took me

there, he would have me go and get a warm wash cloth and clean him off. Then

he’d have me go down on him until he was really hard and take me vaginally. In

the morning he came again, in my pussy this time. Each time he brought me to

orgasm. I was finding it easier and easier to come each time. It was as if

lifting all responsibility from me made me better in bed, or at least released

all my inhibitions and let me come more and more often. By morning I was actually

sated, tired but sated. I wondered about the day he’d have in srore for me.

I’ve gotten bored. I feel like I’m no longer talking about me and my experience

as much as I’m just offering you some titilation. It’s really difficult to

identify the specific occurrences on Saturday. So much happened. A lot of it was

J actually using me however and whenever he wished. He explained to me what a

pearl necklace was after he’d given me one. I’d never expected him to use the

tube of K-Y he took out between my breasts. When he spurted over my neck and

chin, he told me about that. I was naked nearly all day. His hands were all over

me most of the day. No pinch marks or anything like that, just a healthy

appreciation of my skin and that his time was limited. I came so many times that

my sides ached, sorta the way that they feel if you laugh too hard and too long.

Don’t get me wrong, it was a nice ache, but clearly we pushed our physical

limitations quite a bit. He pushed my emotional buttons very strongly too.

Normally I like to be the center of attention by being boisterous. He made me

the center of attention by making me quiet. He played a lot of head games with

me and made me love it. I served him breakfast in bed, of course. When he was

finished eating he had me go down on him while he finished his coffee of all

things. When I had him hard, he put his cup down and took me again, from behind

this time. He didn’t come then, but he made me, twice. J played this bizarre

game with me where he’d ask me questions that were extremely personal, like the

precise manner in which I lost my virginity, with graphic details. If I didn’t

tell him or if I didn’t seem to be telling the truth right away, he’d begin to

fondle me. He’d keep doing it until I told him what he’d asked. The bastard

kept me coming for what seemed like ten minutes, it couldn’t have been that long,

but he had this knack of being able to keep me right on the peak for the longest

times. I told him all kinds of things, the first time I had anal sex, all of the

occasions … well, you get the idea. We played that for much of the morning. He

did take me out, but that’s too complicated to go into now, perhaps later at

another session. The last thing he did Saturday night was probably the most

physically intense. He tied me to the 4 corners of my bed. Then he blindfolded

me. I had images of being tit-fucked again or of taking him in my mouth while he

held me down, of all kinds of things. He gave me a massage. At least it began as

a massage. Then it kind of evolved into something else. He stopped kneading my

muscles as much as he titilated my skin. He spend several minutes running his

hands up my thighs and down my stomach until I was ready to beg him to touch my

pussy, screw me, touch me, anything. Then he disappeared for a couple of

minutes. The next thing I felt, remember I was blindfolded, was him putting a

warm wash cloth over my sex. I knew what he was doing when he began to lather it

up. He told me that I needed to be very still and then began to shave my pubic

hair away. Now my husband and I engage in oral and anal sex, though normally

inside, so it wasn’t as if any of the specific acts were new to me. Shaving

myself isn’t something I’ve had to do or wanted to do for that matter. Somehow,

it felt forbidden and deliciously sexy to have him do it this way. He certainly

took his time over it, and while I suspect he wasn’t ever using the razor on me

while he did it, he did rub my clit a lot while reminding me that I needed to

stay still while he shaved me. That was fairly intense. When he was done, he used

a wet cloth to clean off the last of the soap. Then he went down on me, and down

on me and down on me. I lost count of how many times he made me come. When he

stopped, he put some baby oil on my newly shaved pussy. That’s when I felt there

was something he was hiding. After he oiled me, he used his fingers on me and

started me coming again. Then, I swear, he tried to see how long he could make

me come. He used his tongue, his fingers, his prick, then started over with his

tongue. He did it so long that I couldn’t catch my breath. When he untied me, I

was dizzy. He had to help me to the bathroom. He wouldn’t let me take off the

blindfold right away, but I did feel that he’d left a patch of fuzz on the upper

right hand side of my pubic hair. It wasn’t until I’d spend another night just

like the last one (I did make him come three times, once in each aperture as he

called it) coming maybe a dozen separate times myself that I got to see myself in

the light. I kept that heart shaped pubic patch for a couple of months after

that. Oh, look at the time. I’ve got to be going. I must say I enjoyed this

more than I thought. What? Oh, yes, I do re-do the heart from time to time…