A Hood For Her Faceless Meat Dildo

This story is part of the series Learning to wear the heels he likes but can be read alone as well.

It wasn't the first time he'd looked at bdsm gear online, but it was the first time he'd done it with his credit card on the desk and his wife in his lap.

He had short-listed a few hoods for her to consider, ranging from a simple spandex sock to an exquisite work of tooled leather.

She had rejected them all.

"This one covers your mouth?" she said.

"Yeah."

"I want your mouth accessible." She leaned in, her breath hot in his ear. "I have plans for your mouth."

She gyrated slowly on his lap, grinding his stiffening penis underneath her surprisingly bony bottom. "What's wrong, little boy? Aren't you enjoying this?"

"It hurts, miss."

Mere weeks ago she would have asked if he wanted to stop. Now she replied, "Only because you're thinking filthy thoughts. Aren't you?"

"Yes, miss."

"So stop doing that." She stretched, arching her back and pressing her breasts against him. "Hmm. This shirt is getting a bit tight." She undid a couple of buttons and stretched again. Her cleavage blossomed inches from his face.

His eyes were watering with the pain of her 50-odd kilos resting, so it seemed, directly on the tip of his penis. He tried a different tactic. "Honey, it's a week night."

"I can't fuck my husband on a weeknight?"

He perked up. "Is that what you're doing?"

"Well, no." She huffed. "Okay, fine, I guess my dildo does have a day job." She turned back to the laptop.

"Did you check the prices on these?" She was looking at the full leather rig.

He chuckled nervously. "I didn't want you to think I was cheaping out on you."

"Honey, you have most of a pint of twist ties you saved from bread bags. Do you really want to pay $200 for a sex toy? Let me talk to the big head this time, okay?"

He struck out a few more.

"This one covers your eyes?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm, I like the eyeless look but you won't be much use to me blind. Get rid of everything where you can't see. We can always slap a blindfold on top, right?"

That left only one. She dismissed it as "weird looking." He had to admit the shape of the eye holes made the model look slightly crazed.

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hopped off his lap. "Let me know when you have anything else you want to show me."

He watched her walk away, wondering how his sweet girl next door had come to speak so frankly about her bondage hood preferences.

But then, she had always been blunt, focused, and practical. As one might expect of a woman who had cooked for herself by six, her brothers and sisters by nine, and customers by twelve. She got things done. Why should buying sex toys be any different?

All he knew was, if he could get a hood she liked delivered here by next weekend without paying for shipping, he was in for a delightful weekend as her faceless meat dildo.

Just the thought sent shivers down his spine.

His wife...her mind was the strangest combination of filth and innocence. How long would you kiss and lick my shoes, if I let you go on as long as you liked? she had asked, in the same tone she would use to ask, How much longer for dinner? And then she expected him to go on with his day as if he could think about anything else now.

To be fair, this faceless meat dildo business had surprised both of them. Somehow their conversation had led to her saying, I've never asked to play with your cock like it was some kind a toy for me to pull out and put away. And then both of them had looked at his immediate erection and she had said, You get off on me talking about you like some kind of faceless meat dildo?

Well, why shouldn't they be surprised? He had until recently considered his sexual appetites utterly unremarkable. Boring, even. Yes, he was a little too fascinated with certain women's shoes. But otherwise? For crying out loud, he liked missionary position!

And now he was staying up late scrolling through hoods for her, because it turned out he desperately, desperately wanted to be her faceless meat dildo.

He showed her a few more the next day. "No animal themes," she said. "Shows too much of your face." And, "I don't think all those straps and buckles are going to feel very nice when I put you between my legs."

Then she said, "Ooh, let me see that one."

It was a "related item" at the bottom of the page. He clicked.

"Why didn't you show me this one? It ticks all my boxes."

It was a simple black sock with a hole for the mouth and none for the eyes. But the fabric was an open mesh, sheer enough to see through.

"It's...lacy," he protested. Woven in a pattern of flowers and leaves. The model was female.

"I like my things to be pretty," she said. Did she say my things with the tiniest bit more emphasis?

She scrolled through the pictures. "Hmm, where did the mouth hole go?"

He looked closely. "I think it's shapeless and stretchy enough you can wear it forwards and backwards."

"Very nice. So even your mouth is mine to take out when I have a use for it, and put away when I don't." She smirked at him, fully aware of the effect her words had on him.

He still hesitated.

She waited, a little smile playing at her lips.

He added it to the cart.

"Good boy," she said, kissing him. "I'll let you get a second one, if you're worried a lacy hood is going to kill the mood for you."

Reluctantly, he said, "I probably won't be able to see it once it's on. And I guess it does play into the whole theme of my desires being second to yours."

"That's the spirit. Are you going to masturbate tonight?"

"Yeah, probably." Jerking off into the toilet didn't hold a candle to what he really wanted, but sometimes it took the edge off enough for him to fall asleep.

"Mm. Promise to think of me?"

"As opposed to?"

"That fake person you used to fantasize about."

"Are you getting jealous of a nameless faceless figment of my imagination?" he teased.

She frowned. "I don't like to share."

"Yes, I promise it'll be you I think of. As if I could think of anything else these days."

"Good. If you're quick about it, I might still be awake. We can cuddle a bit."

Cuddling was a tricky business these days. Even in the best case, it meant her warm, soft body pressed against his. More often, it meant grinding herself against his aching penis. Smothering him with her breasts. Sometimes making out furiously, other times ordering him to lie still as she explored his body with her mouth and her fingers. Cuddling these days was torture.

He jerked off quickly and hurried to bed, hoping to find her still awake.

The next few days dragged on. He checked the shipping status multiple tines a day.

She was still on her quest to wear higher heels for him. Every night after their walk, he stripped down to his underwear and knelt and kissed her feet and put a pair of heels on her. He then made dinner shirtless, listening to her click around the house in her heels tidying up. It was a relief when he could turn on the range hood and drown her out.

On Saturday, he woke up with a raging erection, despite having jerked off into the toilet only eight hours before. He had been doing that most days recently.

She was already awake, her face lit by the warm glow of her e-reader. She glanced at him. "Morning, honey. Open the curtains, if you're awake?"

He drew them aside, leaving them both blinking owlishly in the harsh morning sun.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

She put her e-reader down. "Okay?"

"Do you know how much you turn me on?"

She smiled. "Is my little boy looking for a quickie?"

"No, that's not...I mean, yes, that would be great. But let me talk to you first."

"Sure, we can talk."

"Do you know how much you turn me on?"

"I know you've been a horny little boy recently, yes." She reached under the covers for him. He yelped a little at her cold hands, and she smiled fondly.

"But do you know how much you turn me on? What it does to me when you say things like, I like my things to be pretty and Kiss my shoes, dear, but be quick about it. It's a weeknight."

"Is this about that time I was accidentally teasing you?"

"For weeks."

She rolled her eyes. "Right."

"No, I'm going to say that every time. For weeks. And then you were like, I've been asking questions, that's all. For weeks! Tell me it's on purpose this time.

"It's on purpose," she assured him.

"Tell me you're enjoying this."

"I'm enjoying this," she said firmly. "Aren't you?"

He smiled, relieved. "Yes. I'm having a lot of fun."

"So what was this?"

He searched for the words. "I wanted to hear that it meant something. That I was making you happy. That I wasn't suffering for no good reason."

"Suffering?" she asked.

He cut her off before she could go guilty on him. "I like it. I'll tell you if I don't. I promised, remember?"

"Right." She sounded uncertain. Then she rolled over to face him, mouth resolute. "Do you want to hear why I like it?"

He nodded, surprised by the offer. She wasn't a big one for talking about feelings, much less her own feelings.

"Men get turned on around me. It's nothing personal. I have two breasts and a pulse."

He opened his mouth to protest but she shook her head.

"Yes, you think I'm very pretty. And," she waved a hand, "smart and whatever. But we both know that's not a requirement."

He couldn't argue with that.

"You stood out because it was clear you were interested but also it was clear you weren't going to come pawing at me. It was nice. I didn't have to manage your libido all the time. Like friends. Better than some of my friends, even."

She made a face and he grimaced sympathetically. He knew what she meant.

She moved onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him. Her long, straight hair spilled forward around them like a shimmering black waterfall, filling the air with her scent.

"It was weirdly hot. Isn't that funny? I hadn't thought of it like this before, but in a way, you were teasing me. You've been teasing me for years."

He had no idea what to say to that.

"Don't let it go to your head," she said sharply. "It's not like I was running home and masturbating furiously the minute I got the door closed."

Any other time he would have said something there. That's a very specific denial, maybe. But he sensed something fragile here. Like pulling a thread. If it snapped, he might never find it again. He waited until she started speaking again.

"Why do I like to tease you? Because I know you like it and I like making you happy. But also I like that I can do it to you. That it's not just what happens when I'm around but something I can choose to make happen, by what I say and what I do. And I like that you won't do anything I don't want, no matter how much I wind you up." She glanced away, suddenly shy. "It's a bit of a power trip."

He tilted her face back to him and drew her into a kiss.

"Anyway," she said, pushing away, suddenly brusque. "Are you ready for that quickie now?"

"I would love a quickie now."

"But do you deserve a quickie?" She slid down and ground herself against him. "Maybe what you deserve is a nice slow hand job."

"Oh, no, please, honey, no more of that. I can't take any more."

"Poor baby. Poor desperate baby." She clucked in mock sympathy, continuing to grind on him. "Why am I so mean to you? It's just not fair!"

He tried to thrust against her, but she lifted herself away. He flopped back, defeated. He had created a monster.

"Oh, my...You look absolutely broken." She stared down at him, her face thoughtful. Then she said, "Fine. What do you want?"

"Sorry?"

"Silly boy, I've decided to be nice to you. Hurry up and take advantage before I change my mind. What'll it be?"

"You know, you don't have to go from full tease to some super-compliant order-off-the-menu thing. What do you want to do?"

She looked a little embarrassed. "I want to give you a hand job. I like giving you hand jobs."

"Well, then, I'd like a hand job."

She put a bit of lube on her hand. He stopped her. "Could we...I know you often like to give me another hand job after I've come. Could we...not? Just today. My penis is kind of sore already."

"One hand job," she promised him.

He let her take his penis in her hand. He was trembling within a few strokes. "Please, miss," he said.

"Ssh. We'll have plenty of time for that next weekend. Today you get to come whenever you like."

He let himself ejaculate instantly, thrusting hard into her hand before falling limply back into bed. When he could focus his eyes again, he saw her staring at her own hand. It was covered in come and lube.

"What's wrong?"

"You asked me to stop after one hand job because it would hurt to get erect again immediately."

"Yeah?"

She locked eyes with him. She brought her hand up to her face. Her tiny pink tongue darted out and touched one finger.

He moaned as he started to get hard again.

She licked slowly from the heel of her hand to the tip of her middle finger.

"Not fair," he cried. "Not fair. Oh, this hurts. You understand that? You're hurting me."

"Do you want me to stop?" she taunted.

He moaned wordlessly, torn between the ache in his rapidly rising penis and the gleeful cruelty on her face.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"You're an evil woman. Why do you do this to me?"

"I want to get this come off my hand," she said innocently. She licked a drop off her lips, making a five-second production of it, the most obscene thing he had ever seen. "Look, it's dripping down my wrist."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "You can't make me watch. You can't make me."

He heard a loud slurping noise. She smacked her lips dramatically. "Mm, you're missing quite a show. I don't know when I'll ever do this again. Are you sure you don't want to watch?"

He was rock hard. It ached from the very tip to somewhere deep down inside him. Defeated, he opened his eyes.

She was radiant. Staring deep into his soul the entire time, she sucked each finger down to the knuckle. She lapped at the palm of her hand. She turned to the back of her hand and sucked every drop out from between her knuckles.

Finally, she was done. "Did you enjoy your hand job?" she asked.

"I hate you."

"But are you proud of me?"

He nodded grudgingly. "How did you ever think of that?"

"I don't know. It just came to me. I get a lot of ideas around you. You're like my muse."

"Good grief." A thought occurred to him. "And since when do you even do this?"

"Do what?"

"Eat it. You don't do blow jobs."

"It was my first time. And, no, it did not taste good. Warm and slimy and kind of chemical. I'm not sure how to describe it. Bad. But totally worth it." Her eyes fell on the remaining come still pooled on his belly.

He followed her gaze. "No. Absolutely not. You horrible woman. You've had your fun. Give my poor penis a break."

She chuckled. "Okay. Let me get you a towel." But she didn't move. Instead she asked, "How much does it hurt? To get another erection immediately afterward?"

"It's not much worse than walking the day after heavy squats," he assured her. "I was hamming it up."

"Oh. Okay." He couldn't tell whether she was relieved or disappointed.

She cleaned him up. They each used the bathroom, then came back to bed and cuddled lazily well into the morning.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful. He cleaned the kitchen. She cleaned the bathroom. She insisted they re-arrange the furniture in the living room very slightly. They went to the produce market, the grocery store, the fishmonger's, strolling hand in hand through the aisles. He steamed them some crabs and they sat around picking out the meat and dipping it in black vinegar. Normal stuff.

Every time she stuck a crab leg into her mouth he couldn't help but see her finger there instead. It wasn't enough to get him erect but by the end of the meal his groin ached dully.

She looked at the crab juice and vinegar on her hands. She caught his eye. Her mouth quirked.

"No," he said. "Stop. Use a napkin, you animal."

She lifted her hand. Her tongue was a flash of pink.

He thrust a napkin at her. When she made no move to take it, he threw it over her head.

"The crab tastes so much better," she murmured, slurping loudly from underneath the napkin.

He buried his face in his hands, heedless of the crab juice he was smearing across his face. She laughed deep from her belly, delighted at how easily she could push his buttons. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

By Monday, the hood was only 15 miles away. He looked up the address. It was the last sorting before his local post office. It'd be here by Tuesday.

On Tuesday, it was still there, 15 miles away. Of course it was.

On Wednesday, he started to worry. He entertained brief fantasies of ordering it again with overnight shipping, even going so far as to price it out. Then he closed the tab.

It was just sex, he reminded himself. Fun, exciting, but he had to keep things in perspective.

On Thursday it was at his post office. By noon it was out for delivery. Maybe it would be there by the time they came home from their walk.

Indeed, his phone dinged while they were at the park. She glanced at him. He shook his head, leaving his phone in his pocket. They walked onward.

After a few minutes, she said, "And then a rat came up and starting telling me about this entire slice of pizza he found last week, sitting there on the stairs."

He blinked.

"So what was the last thing you remember me saying?"

He smiled weakly. "Sorry, try again. I'll pay attention."

"Did the mask come? Was that the shipping update we heard?"

He pulled out his phone. Yes, it was.

"Do you want to head back?"

"No, it's fine."

She looked at him.

"Well," he said, "it's almost time anyway."

She giggled. Then leaned in and whispered, "Am I teasing you too much? For in the park."

"We're just talking about shipping delays," he reassured her.

He made her start over on their way back, and forced himself to pay attention this time.

There was no package by their door when they got back. A few letters but no package.

"Sometimes if they're running late they mark it delivered and then actually deliver it the next day."

"Yeah, you're right. It'll probably be here tomorrow."

"Do you want me to tease you extra tonight when you put my heels on?" she asked.

"No, it's fine."

"I'm getting pretty good with this latest pair. I could take you for a lap around the house on a leash. Make you kiss my shoes every time we stop. Ooh, maybe I'll jerk on the leash if you aren't quick enough to get kissing." She screwed her face up into an exaggerated snarl and bobbed one fist in the air as if yanking on his leash.

He couldn't help but smile at her antics. "Is this your way of being nice to me now?"

"Well, I'm planning to be pretty mean to you this weekend, hood or no hood."

"Right!" He shook his head at his own stupidity. "I don't know how these got mixed up in my head but of course I can be your little toy even without the hood."

"I will insist on it," she promised him. "So, shall we go for another walk?"

He kissed her tenderly. "It's very sweet of you to offer. But it's a weeknight."

"We'll save it for the weekend, then."

The package did come Friday, a little Tyvek envelope mixed in with the letter mail. She handed it to him. "I'll let you do the honors."

He pulled the glued tab open. It was a shapeless little wad of fabric inside. He shook it out and handed it to her.

"Hmm, nice and soft," she said approvingly.