The sexy, mature brunette moaned in abject pleasure as this over-inked, rather bored looking muscle man pounded his Viagra-fueled member in and out of her well-shaven pussy hole. It didn't matter that it was all staged, and that once it was over, they'd both separate and act as if they'd just returned from having their taxes done. It was certainly doing the job for me, and I moved my lubricated palm up and down my stiff cock while I watched them go at it on the computer screen.
I'd been at one of my marathon masturbation sessions for over an hour, intending on making it last for some time yet. Jacking off using lube to slicken up the friction certainly aided in my ability to go for quite a while. The wife was away for a few hours, so I was taking advantage of the time alone to exercise possibly my favorite - and I daresay most men's favorite - hobby. It's been long enough ago that I can't remember how many years I've been stroking my stiff cock for my own pleasure, but I've been at it off and on for the greater majority of my life, and likely will continue doing so until age and/or health makes it impossible to get hard enough to make it worthwhile.
Anyhow, I was at the computer again in my usual computer attire - nothing, as if you hadn't already guessed - and it was feeling pretty fucking good, while I watched movies of people fucking, gazed at pictures of primarily women in various stages of undress, and read stories about folks making their own fun together. My right hand steadily and deliberately worked my wanting erection, the other hand gently caressed my smooth-shaven balls. The trick gets to be having control enough to stay on the high plateau without taking it too far and accidentally cumming, thus ending the session. It's the one thing I think most guys envy women: that ability to cum and cum and cum, with little to no affect on their arousal. Still, after all this time, I was pretty good at keeping that edge, and had been there for quite a while. My pre-cum was oozing, just aiding the lube when it started to dry out, so that just helped keep me going.
Muscle bound pulled out finally to shoot his load all over the brunette's pussy - one of my favorites, I don't know why they shoot on the girls' stomachs, when it looks so much better on their cunts - and I took my fingers away from my balls to click on another vid when I heard:
"Can I ask you a question?"
Holy fuck! She was home? Sonofabitch! I suddenly felt my stomach drop a mile, and my heart pounded harder than ever. My face started to feel hot and I felt like I was thirteen years old, getting caught doing what I was doing by my mother.
Now, my wife knows I jerk off. You don't stay married to a person for better than fifteen years and not learn at least a few little tidbits like that. She's told me she's okay with it, even though at times she feels inadequate, that she thinks I'm looking at porn because I'm not interested in her anymore, that I'm looking for someone more... perfect, I guess we'll say. I try to assure her otherwise, but I often feel like I'm talking to a wall at those times.
So, I turned from the screen, hiding my lubricated hand around one thigh, feeling my erection shrinking by the second.
"Uh, sure. Whattya want?" my voice quavered. I was nervous, as you can imagine. She didn't look pissed, but it's embarrassing to be caught masturbating, regardless if you know your spouse is alright with the notion.
She stepped into the room, saying, "I know I've asked you this before, and I know you love me - at least I hope you still do - but why do you do that so often?"
Fuck. I hate it when she wants to get all fucking serious. My animal brain was pretty much taking control of most everything, and here she wants me to explain myself. Shit.
My lube-coated cock now lay in its normal flaccid state - about two inches or so of not-so-impressive manhood (grower, not "show"-er) - and I was feeling pretty exposed, as the wife was completely clothed. She looked good to me, but it was going to take some pretty fancy tap dancing to satisfy her at a time like this, and just professing my attraction to her wasn't going to do the trick.
"Uh... well..." The back of my lube-covered hand lay like a chunk of lead against my leg. I really would have liked to wash off before starting this, but I knew that hand wasn't in the cards this time around.
I stopped, closed my eyes, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When I opened my eyes, I noted a slight hint of amusement at my discomfort on the wife's face. Still, she wasn't going to let me off the hook. She wanted an answer to her question, and I wasn't going to weasel out of it.
"Okay, you know I do this, just as I know why you have the silver bullet in your nightstand drawer. We both get urges, and they don't always correspond time-wise with the other's. Granted, chances are you'd have a better chance of finding me in the mood when you are than I am having the same luck, but nevertheless, there it is. Besides, there are the times where you're asleep, and I'm in need of some playtime. I'm not about to try to wake you, because it's going to take so long to warm you up, that by the time I've gone through the effort to get you going, I'll likely be so frustrated - and not in a sexual way - that I'd be out of the mood.
"So, there's the timing thing, and there's the warm-up deal on your part. You can't deny that it takes a hell of a lot of work to get you ready when you aren't really up for it." She nodded, acquiescing to my point. "So, at those times, it's best for me just to take matters into my own hands. I enjoy it better when you take part, but it isn't always feasible.
"And I think foremost there's the fact that when it's just me and mine, there aren't any expectations. While it's a lot of fun to play with someone else, when you have that other person involved, in the back of your mind, you're thinking about how they're going to react to what you're doing. You try to take their pleasure into account, and attempt to make it as good for them as it is for you. There's a lot more work involved. When you and I are playing, I try to make sure what we're doing is fun for you, too. There's a certain pleasure and satisfaction in knowing you've managed to accomplish that, but it really can be work. And one thing a guy my age doesn't need more of, it's performance anxiety issues."
A little clarification: I've had difficulties of late - occasionally, mind you, not constantly - cumming while in the wife. I think a lot of it's age and sleep deprivation. I've seldom had trouble getting hard - A regular regimen of masturbation has kept E.D. at bay, so far - but I know she feels it reflects on her when I'm unable to get over the hump. I have to assure her it feels incredible, regardless, but if she feels like she hasn't managed to make me feel good enough to cum, she feels bad. Sort of like I feel sometimes when I cum, but she doesn't.
"Then, of course, there's the matter of what I'm often viewing while I'm having my playtime here at the computer. I know you feel like you don't measure up, that somehow, I'm trying to find a woman that better fits some ideal of what a woman's supposed look like and act like. I won't lie to you, I do look at pictures of women who are shaped differently from you..." I was being politic here. I certainly didn't want to come right out and say "better looking." She knew and I knew that she wasn't supermodel material, any more than I am, but there are so many hard-bodied women having their nude figures posted out there, it's impossible to avoid seeing them when you start looking at porn. I continued, "...but to say I'm unhappy with you couldn't be farther from the truth. The women in the magazines and in the pictures and the movies are all nice to look at, but they aren't real. Sure, they might be to somebody, but not me. I chose you, and you most definitely are real. I may play and look, but that's all I'm really doing. There are no plans whatsoever in my mind about finding a replacement. I love you and most times I'm doing what you caught me doing, I'm wishing you were at least helping, because it always feels better when you do."
I stopped talking, hoping I'd made my case and that I'd satisfied her curiosity, instead of just driving a few more nails in whatever coffin might be lurking in the background. She stood there for a minute, apparently pondering what I'd just said. Then, after a rather nerve-wracking time for me, she made the few steps across the room to where I sat, then knelt in front of my chair. When she looked back up at me, she had a wry smile on her face, and when I saw her reach up and felt her fingers start to caress my balls, I moaned and smiled, knowing I was okay.
"Would you like some help now, then, naughty man?" she said huskily, with a sultry yet playful look in her eye, making my cock start to come back to life.
"You bet I would," I replied, relieved and aroused that I must have debated my side of the argument well enough for her to not be egregiously pissed at me.
Her fingers left my balls briefly, but that was so she could reach for the hem of her top and slick it off, giving me an incredible view of her luscious brassiere-clad breasts.
"How about it? On or off?" she asked, knowing what I was going to say.
"Off," I managed to croak. I was getting really hot now, and my cock was awakening very steadily. It'd been some time since she'd been this playful. I'd been initiating sex most every time for the last few years, and to be honest, I was starting to feel like I didn't measure up that much, anymore, either.
She leaned forward, her head laying on my thigh, exposing the strap of her bra to me. "It's all yours, baby," she said. I could feel her breath lightly on my balls, and it just fueled my fire even more.
With my left (un-lubed) hand, I reached over and deftly unclipped her bra strap, watched eagerly as she leaned back and shrugged the shoulder straps off, then pulled the garment away from where the weight of her breasts held it on.
"Better?" she asked with a grin. I was now stiff and ready once more. I simply nodded in response.
Did I say stiff and ready? I think if anything, I was more ready now than I had been earlier. I certainly felt hornier than I was when I was doing myself, by myself. It often takes a bit of encouragement to get me hard anymore, and when I say encouragement, I'm talking physical stimulation. This woman can still get me hard without touching me. I think that says a lot about how I still feel about her.
"Good," she said, smiling warmly, raising both hands to fondle my balls again.
Unable to hold back a huge grin of my own, I reached for the lube bottle and squeezed a little bit in my already lubricated hand. The stuff already there had gotten kind of dry and sticky, so it needed a tiny boost to do the job.
With her fingers tickling my balls, I couldn't hold back the moan that came to my lips when I started stroking myself again. Between the respite as well as the tease I'd received after my explanation, I was way more sensitive than I had been. Besides, aside from a brief, smiling glance at that initial moan, her gaze didn't leave my hard-on while I masturbated. There was a delight and hunger on her face that just heightened the whole experience for me. I had no idea what would follow once I came, but I sure as hell wasn't going to dwell on it, at least until I'd managed to take advantage of the play she was offering me at the moment.
I continued jerking my cock, making no bones about the fact that I was watching her lovely D cups jiggle and bounce as she helped me along. My moans were constant. I've been trying lately not to hold back making sounds while I'm cumming. It does enhance the whole encounter, but all those years growing up with my parents' room right across the hall from mine conditioned me well, so I have to consciously remind myself to let go.
And I wasn't being quiet, either. I let my hand travel up and back on my cock while her fingers danced over me, making as much noise as I wanted. Considering my earlier session, as well as the help I was receiving, it was only a few minutes before I could feel the point of no return inching closer.
She caught on to the fact and just nudged me further in the right direction. "Cum for me, baby. Cover me with that beautiful cum. I love you. Show me how much you love me." She went on in that vein for a while, just making it harder to keep the orgasm from washing over me and making this whole scene end too soon. It was so arousing to hear her talk the least bit naughty. Not that she speaks like a nun or anything - she does enjoy sexual innuendo and such - but she's admitted that she usually feels pretty silly "talking dirty." I've assured her again and again that out of context, she's right, it would sound really goofy, but in the right situation, it's exactly what's needed.
And what she was saying was doing the trick. I felt my orgasm come barreling up on me, and my voice went from an insistent moan to a roar as I felt my cum explode from the tip of my cock. It went everywhere, and in this case, everywhere meant all over my wife's face and tits. By the time I was finished, she was well-coated in my jizz. She had cum in her hair and running down one cheek, but the majority stuck to her throat and on her chest. My god, she looked sexy. It was over way, way too soon, but as brief as it was, it was in-fucking-credible!
She simply leaned in close to catch anything that might drip as my hand slowed its pace. Then when I stopped stroking altogether, she sat back with a grin, looking over my work and asked, "Boy, I guess you really do like me, huh?"
I leaned back in my chair and panted, "You have no idea." This elicited a delighted giggle.
For a minute or so, I sat back and caught my breath, just looking at the gorgeous sight before me. Finally, I sat up a little and asked, "So, is there anything I can help you with?"
She just shrugged. "No. I'm just glad I could help you out. I understand you a little better. That's enough for now. Trust me, I'll let you know when you can help me next."
I could hardly wait.
Before she got up, she stretched herself up to kiss me, an act I was eager and willing to partake of. After how good she'd made me feel, it was the least I could do.
She held her hand out for me to help her to her feet, so I took it in my left and did that much for her.
"Thank you, baby," she said as she sashayed - topless - from the room, making me feel how lucky a guy I was to have a woman like her in my life.