Hot and bothered

I admire the hell out of my wife's vagina. I mean, three of my kids have slid out of it- three times she's swelled up like the legendary victim of a swallowed watermelon seed, past the point where I started to feel panic stricken when I imagined the process by which the thing had to make its way out of her. But she'll just smile all serene and stroke her belly, draw me towards her because sex can bring on labor and being pregnant makes you insane enough to want that. And each time the grapefruit sized head of a seven pound person with my damning features has tested the elasticity of her flesh, she's welcomed me back home within two weeks- that's less time than our QB was out with a pulled achilles this season, for crying out loud! If actual pussies played football maybe they'd make it through the season, for once.

We spent a phase exploring the limits of that glorious organ, once. I'm not a little guy and I've always found the fit comfortably snug, but with a little oil and encouragement she can get a cucumber that's two, maybe three times the girth of my cock in there. I'm a secure guy but the way she moans and comes when she stretched to the max like that makes me linger over those dick-gro ads a second longer than I strictly need to. Once, after a couple of drinks in Mexico that were garnished with shrooms that looked like tiny shriveled cocks, she kept egging me on, more, harder, and before I knew it my thumb was joining my other four fingers on the inside. Once she humped the widest part of my hand into her opening, the muscles of her pelvic floor pulled me in up to the wrist firmly enough to make me think of some of the weirder porn I've seen. But then the moment hit me and I was dumbfounded.

My fist was wrapped in molten steel, bound and encased like a boxer's hand in its glove, and every thrust and twist of my arm just drove her further over the edge until she cried out and clamped down with a grip that ground the bones of my hand together.

I wasn't sure when I'd hit the floor but I found myself on my knees, hand still inside her, and realized I still had to get my massive seeming hand back out of the slit that was sweetly gripping my wrist.

Talk about rebirth. She looked up at me with her eyes all glazed from the shrooms and hazy from the orgasm and I felt myself taking deep breaths along with her while she dropped her hand to the point of our union. She caressed my wrist and stroked her own flesh with inquisitive fingertips that came to settle on her clit with light, insistent strokes. The intimacy of feeling her renewing arousal from the inside had me frozen, but she didn't need anything from me. Rather than an iron grip drawing me deeper, now her walls softened and expanded against my knuckles, her slit relaxing as she gently rocked herself back off of my fist.

When the widest point of my hand met the resistance of her perineum she clenched briefly and her fingers quickened until a muted after-shock of an orgasm ejected my hand past the thumb. I stretched my cramped fingers deeper, greedy for the feel of the inside of her as she tightened closed around them. I'm not sure when I came but I woke up the next morning with tears crusting my eyelashes, semen dried down the inside of my thighs and my hand cupped reverently over that existential fulcrum. Maybe it was the shrooms, but we never talked about it and we've never done it again.

There's plenty of other stuff to do, though. I was one of many gentlemen who felt deeply blessed by the popularity of a particularly kinky trilogy that brought out a slightly wild side in many of its readers. Whips and chains don't do it for me, but I do enjoy being allowed to land a few solid slaps to her ass and get a good bite in every now and then. Mostly it's the complacency, the ball tightening knowledge that you can and the white hot sparkle in her eye that says she will.

That's what I had in mind all day Friday. The plumbing company called me at work to say they were there to install the water heater and my wife wasn't home.

In this day of robots it was easy enough to unlock the door electronically and pull up the stream from the security system to keep an eye on the process, but her unexplained absence gnawed at me enough that I kept an eye on the screen, expecting her to turn up with a bag of groceries any moment.

Work had me pissed off anyway, and before I knew it I had her fucking this plumber dude in my head while I watched on camera and I didn't know if I was more turned on or jealous about the idea. Two hours later the guy straightened up, gathered his shit and called to let me know he was letting himself out. I watched him go and had Jeeves the robot security lock up behind him. Next thing I knew my keys were in my hand, my jacket was over my arm and I was leaving work 3 hours early.

I could have called her, of course. I'm confident she'd have answered and given me the reasonable explanation of where she was. But my paranoid fantasy had my gut aching in a way that wasn't all bad, and I wanted to see it through.

Home looked the same as it had on the video feed. After a creative-minded perusal of the kitchen I put a few things into the freezer, showered, and flipped on the sports channel.

She came in mid way through the second segment. My twisted thoughts had me expecting her to be startled and guilty about being caught out, but her eyes lit up when she saw me on the couch and she made a suggestive little noise that made my balls clench. I love the hell out of her, I thought, my resolve to act icy already weakened.

"What are you doing home?" she asked, hanging up her jacket. "The kids had plans after school, and I'd expected to be on my own."

"The plumber came and you weren't here," I charged, raising an eyebrow. Her face crumpled guiltily.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I went to lunch with Cyndi. I'll call and reschedule."

"I've taken care of it," I said, mock coldly, looking at the tv instead of her. She brightened. "Oh, good," she said, smiling. I turned off the tv so I could study her reflection in it.

"I was interrupted at work. It was a frustrating day. I want to punish you."

Actually, the way she froze when she heard the last line, the way her eyes got all intense until I could feel her look laying on my skin, made me want to jump on her and fuck her then and there. She was very quiet. Then she stepped forward. "okay," she said, softly. My stomach leapt.

I gestured to the space in front of me and she was there, on her knees, gaze steady on mine. I unzipped my pants and dragged my half hard cock out where she went to work resuscitating it immediately. When it was throbbing at attention I stood and led the way to the bathroom, bending her over the sink so she could watch herself have her ass swatted while the tub filled. It was lovely watching her tits jump and bounce with each smack, so I kept them light to make it last longer.

She flinched at the sting when she lowered her reddened ass to the steaming water, and my cock jumped. After she'd soaked a few minutes I pulled the shower head loose and dropped it into the water with her, twisting the faucets on.

"Point that at your pussy." As turned on as I was, she eagerly did as I said, letting out hot little groans as she passed the spray over her clit. Beneath the water it looked like her vulva was being licked by a phantom tongue. I thought of Sancho the plumber and my jaw tightened. I twisted the cold water down a quarter-turn.

"Mmm, it's hot," she breathed, holding the head slightly further from her flesh. "It's unlimited," I told her, "we have a tankless heater now."

"Oooh," she answered, distracted by the intensity beneath the water, not yet understanding that this would be the punishment. As she adjusted to the heat she'd brought it back against her crotch, rubbing and rocking it to direct the spray back and forth over her sensitive flesh. It felt amazing, she was trembling and moaning, but the bath water was edging higher and growing quite warm. I took off my shirt, the bathroom was tropic. "Do you want me to turn it off?" I asked, noting her flushed cheeks.

She shook her head no. "Cooler?" She asked, expecting to be accommodated. "No," I answered, shortly. She looked at me, surprised, and rubbed the shower head more earnestly against herself. I palmed my balls through my shorts. Her eyes were scanning the edge of the bathtub, landing on my bulging crotch and rolling away in dismay- she wanted something inside her and none of the soap bottles was appropriately shaped. The water breached the side of the tub and she dislodged the plug absently with her foot, long enough for the water to drop several lurching inches. The red flush and crept across her skin and her face was beaded with sweat, but she still aimed the jetting spray at the folds of her pussy.

"Please," she whimpered.

"Please what?" she didn't answer, just gave a frustrated groan and tossed her head. I took mercy and opened the door, letting the chilly air draw her nipples up to hard puckers. Her relief was evident but she remained twisted between her intense arousal and the of difficulty reaching climax without penetration. She looked wracked, and my balls were ready to boil over at the sight of her. I fled to the kitchen and when I returned, calmer, she was a vision. Looking crazed with flushed red skin and her hair curling madly in the damp, I wanted to drag her out of the water and bang her right on the bathroom floor

***

He doesn't take control like this very often but I love it, I thought to myself. Even with him gone I wouldn't dare turn off the hot water, I just went on grinding the spurting head against myself until he returned with a large mixing bowl that he set on the counter.

"Hot?" he asked, "want a piece of ice?"

"mm-hmm" I whimpered, letting more water out of the tub. He leaned over and trailed a piece of ice across my skin, leaving a trail that burned like a cut. He slipped it down my belly and nudged the shower head aside, pressing the ice to my aggravated flesh. I writhed, and the cube slipped away, melting fast. The next one went up my ass- sliding, rock hard, past the sphincter before I knew what hit me. The violation of that tiny point of burning cold made my belly lurch. He slipped two more in and my rectum was beginning to feel full and achingly cold. I was weakly trembling on the verge of orgasm but unable to break my climax in this kinky pressure cooker. An ice cube in my pussy made me clench and throb. He turned the hot water lower, so the stream cooled slightly. A balm to my overworked flesh, and I enjoyed the sensory relief so much that I didn't see the cucumber until it was pressed momentarily against my opening, which offered little resistance before welcoming the invading vegetable into its depths, despite that it was frozen.

***

A few determined thrusts with the icy cuke was all it took to bring her to a crashing, wailing climax before my eyes. Her reaction was so strong that I had to support her head or I think she'd have slipped under the water, and she clung to my arm to support her wobbling knees when she finally climbed out. In our bed, finally seeking everything I'd been denying myself meant pounding my aching cock into fevered flesh, losing myself to someone already weak and delirious in her own sated lust. I felt I fucked her savagely, but she only arched and moaned with pleasure, cradling my head against her shoulder while I trembled in post-orgasmic detox.

That's what I mean about her pussy, you know? You'll think you're killing the thing, and she'll just dig her nails in your ass and tell you she wants it harder.