Letters from Blackwell Island Pt. 02

I positioned myself so that I was kneeling astride his legs, almost as if I was some kind of religious devotee kneeing in genuflection before the sacred shrine of his naked masculinity. I decided to make my intent very clear - I was going to use all my pleasuring skills to bring him towards what I hoped would be an amazing orgasm. He was my man, the most special person in my life, and he was worth every effort I was about to make for him.

I started out by simply placing my hand upon his softly dormant penis, shaved nice and smooth the previous evening, and just let it rest there for a moment to signal my intention. Oh, how I love the feeling of a man's penis under my fingertips, especially Patrick's - the skin is just so velvety soft, and the way it responds to my touch never fails to intrigue and arouse me. He murmured a soft moan as he felt my hand upon his cock and I felt it twitch ever so slightly, which made me smile. With my right hand I gently teased his foreskin back, revealing the smooth pink flesh of his glans - the sensitive epicentre of his manhood. He sighed as I bared the head of his penis to the air and then squirmed as I blew gently on it. It never fails to amaze me just how sensitive it is to the very slightest of touches. I adore every last square millimetre of his cock, from the soft skin of its shaft to the protective covering of his foreskin, the pleasure giving and pleasure receiving head with its slightly flared corona ringed with tiny little white dots of pearly papules, and of course the tiny mouth-like meatus at the very tip - the conduit through which his precious seed would come bursting forth.

With his penis held upright in my hand I brought my head downwards and softly, very softly, kissed the tiny lips of his meatus. I heard a sharp intake of breath as Patrick shuddered as I gently licked the bared head of his penis as my tastebuds dragged across the sensitive topography of his naked glans.

"Ó, babaí," he murmured softly in his homeland's native tongue. "Braitheann sin go maith."

Oh, baby, that feels so good.

I know it often falls upon the man in a relationship to be skilled in the art of foreplay for the benefit of his partner's needs, but I know for a fact that men enjoy being on the receiving end of sensual foreplay every bit as much as any woman does, and I was focused on using my foreplay skills to make our approaching lovemaking as euphoric for him as it could possibly be. I wanted him to completely decouple himself from any obligation to please me - this was to be for him, and only for him. I wanted to use my body as a conduit to free his orgasm from him, to literally milk it from him, but there was no need to rush things - the best things, as they say, come to those who wait. Patrick loved it when he took his time with making love to me, so now it was my turn to take my time with making love to him.

As I continued to softly lick his glans, drawing the tip of my tongue around the shallow valley that separated his glans from the shaft of his penis - a region that I knew was incredibly sensitive, Patrick gradually became erect. I love it when I make him hard - I love the feeling of satisfaction I get when I know that it's me that's made him get so hard. By the time he was fully engorged and gently throbbing in time with his heartbeat he was panting and mumbling words of praise in his native tongue.

I felt my own arousal build and build within me, and could feel the moistness of my juices beginning to gather between my legs - my body was subconsciously preparing itself for him, my vagina readying itself to accommodate him inside me. I knew it wanted me to mount him right away, but I forced myself to hold station - all in good time, I told myself.

All in good time.

With my free hand I reached down and cupped his balls - to me they felt like two precious orbs, and I knew how much my beloved beau enjoyed it when I caressed them with just the lightest of touch.

Nothing confirmed to me just how much trust in me Patrick had than when he allowed me to touch his balls - all it would take would be for me to squeeze just a little too firmly and I'd have him writhing in pain. I hate it whenever I see a man being kicked or hit in the balls - some people would find the sight of a man bent double in abject agony after a swift knee in the groin as amusing, but to me it wasn't amusing in the slightest. They say the pain is so strong that it actually makes men feel physically sick. I hate seeing people, especially my fellow women, applauding the sight of a man being physically assaulted in such a humiliating way - no matter what his misdemeanour might be, such harshly humiliating treatment could never be warranted in my book.

I glanced across at the mirrored door of the wardrobe beside our bed and I smiled as I saw myself, as naked as the day I was born, on my knees with my naked husband's erection in my hand and my bottom in the air as I pleasured him. There's something indescribable about watching yourself - sometimes it's hard to believe that it's your own reflection looking back at you and not somebody else's.

I could sense that Patrick was already getting close, and of course I didn't want that to happen - not yet. It was definitely time for a bit of tease and denial, so I used my mouth and tongue on him until I could sense he was about to come, and then I would stop abruptly, leaving him gasping for air and maddeningly close but so far away from his zenith.

"Ah, jaysus, Allie! Sure you're driving me feckin' crazy here!" he exclaimed breathlessly after denied orgasm number three.

"Good," I replied with a smirk. "That's exactly what I was counting on!"

"Would you not let me come, wo'an?" he implored.

"Not until I'm done with you," I answered, feeling a power over him that I didn't normally get to wield.

It was at that point that a recent and rather frank conversation I'd had with Marea and Jenni over coffee in Malmesbury came to mind.

"What do you mean, you've never done it before?" Marea asked me in mild surprise.

"You know they call it "the male g-spot", right?" Jenni added. "If you do it just right it'll give him an unbelievable orgasm!"

"What? His prostate? You're kidding me, surely!" I responded with evident scepticism.

"It's true," Marea insisted. "If you don't believe us just go online and look it up."

So that's exactly what I did.

I'll confess to having been a little ignorant about the finer points of male sexual response. All my adult life, and by reading many women's magazines such as the one I was currently employed by, the only messages I'd been given about sex revolved around women's orgasms. I guess I just lazily assumed that "men come every time" and that was pretty much as far as it went - I literally had no idea that a man's orgasm could be more than just about ejaculation. I'd always thought that ejaculation was the be-all and end-all of the male sexual experience, and that it simply couldn't get any better for them. How wrong I was, now that I have the gift of hindsight!

My curiosity thus piqued following my conversation, I looked up "prostate orgasm" and was immediately bombarded with literally thousands of hits - how on earth had such a thing managed to slip under my radar all these years? I was instantly both fascinated and shocked at the same time as I read article after article and watched video after video. I had no idea that there was much more to the male orgasm than just a bit of grunting and panting and a few spurts of semen. I expect that Patrick was also pretty ignorant of his prostate's potential for delivering him orgasmic rapture, given his rather conservative Catholic upbringing in Ireland.

So I learned all about "dry" orgasms and how to use my fingers inside him to trigger one by massaging his prostate with a "come hither" motion. I was still somewhat dubious, not to mention a little perturbed by the idea of sticking my fingers up inside his bum in order to reach his prostate, but I was definitely game for trying. If it'd feel good for Patrick, it would definitely be worth trying!

So I reached into the drawer beside the bed as discreetly as I could and took out the small bottle of lube I'd secretly hidden there the night before. I applied a generous blob all over my middle finger and then used it to smear it around his anus.

"Er, what the feck are you doing, Allie?" Patrick exclaimed as he felt my digit probing around a part of him it had never ventured to before.

"Something that'll feel amazing for you," I replied. "Hopefully, If I do this right."

"Are... are you gonna... stick your finger... y'know... up me arse?" he responded in utter confusion.

"Just lie back and relax," I instructed him, repeating what I'd learned during my research. "Don't fight it - it'll feel good, I promise."

The look Patrick gave me in return illustrated that he was somewhat dubious, but he made no motion to stop me so I went ahead. I just applied a little light pressure at first, but once it became apparent that his tightly puckered anus wasn't going to yield without at least a little bit of a fight I pressed against the ring of muscle a little more firmly.

"Hah-h-h, bejaysus!" Patrick exclaimed as the tip of my finger suddenly slipped inside his back passage.

"Is... it okay? Does it hurt or anything?" I asked.

"No... just feels kinda weird is all," he replied.

"Best get used to it," I said with a little smirk. "One day a doctor's gonna be doing this to you, but on those occasions your pleasure won't be at the top of the agenda!"

Pushing a little more firmly I embedded my finger into him just as the video I found online instructed, and after a few moments I found the small walnut sized protuberance I was seeking - Patrick's prostate.

"Oh-h-h, fu-uck!" my husband gasped and gnashed his teeth as my finger invaded him. "Jaysus, wo'an, what the feck are ya doing?"

I smiled as I contemplated what I was doing to him.

"Just relax, sweetheart, I've got it all in hand," I said to him in as soothing a tone as I could manage even though my heart was racing.

"Feels like you've got your entire feckin' hand up there!" he gasped in reply.

I twitched my finger inside him using the suggested "come hither" motion.

"Whah-h-h Jaysus feckin' Christ!" he exclaimed instantly.

It must've felt pretty earth-shattering for him to have used the Lord's name in vain like that, but rather than impede me it only spurred me on.

I continued to move my finger around inside him, all the while causing him to writhe and pant and cry out all manner of colourful expletives - some even in his Irish Gaelic tongue.

"Ohh, cac naofa!" he wailed in Gaelic.

I don't think I've ever seen his penis throb so rhythmically and get as hard as it was at that moment without me even touching it - the skin of his shaft looked almost as taut as a drum skin, and the head was almost red with copious amounts of crystal clear precum oozing out and dribbling onto his belly.

"Ohh, Jaysus, wo'an! Ohh-h-h-h I'm gonna come!" he gasped.

"Go for it, hun!" I implored as I continued to wiggle my finger around inside him.

"Hah! Oh fu-uck! Ohh, holy mother of... hah! Hmmff! Hnngghh-h-h-h!"

They say that women are more vocal than men during sex, and that could certainly be the case if pornography is anything to go by. Of course as anyone with half a brain knows, porn is about as true a depiction of sex in real life as a double bill of The Wizard of Oz followed by an extended director's cut of Alice In Wonderland. But I know for a fact that there is at least a nugget of truth in women being a little more vocal than men where sex is concerned. And I also know for a fact that there is scientific research to back that up. But on this occasion, Patrick was definitely putting on a vocal performance that a Californian porn actress would be proud of!

"Ohhhh! Ohhhh, Jay-aysus! Hah-h-h-h-h! Fu-u-u-u-ck!"

There was no doubt about it - from the way he was writhing around on the bed and gripping hold of the sheets, and the way his penis was twitching and slapping against his belly, he was definitely in the ecstatic throws of a powerful orgasm. But apart from a near constant ooze of precum there was no evidence of any ejaculation. Patrick was experiencing his first ever "dry" orgasm. I say "dry" in inverted commas for a reason - it wasn't dry in the literal sense (after all, he was producing quite a prodigious quantity of precum) but there was no ejaculation, no forceful spurt of cum erupting from his cock, just that dribble of crystal clear precum. But I was in no doubt that it was an orgasm, and an exceptionally strong one at that.

I was perhaps just as amazed as Patrick was - whoever would've thought that my dainty feminine fingers would have the power to bring a fully grown and strong man like Patrick to become so utterly enraptured. I felt a wonderful feeling of power over him - he was truly under my spell, and would no doubt do anything I commanded him to do.

"That felt good, huh?" I asked him once I felt his orgasm subside.

"Holy feck, Allie, that felt incredible!" he responded, evidently awestruck by what he'd just felt.

I gave my finger another little twitch inside him.

"Hah-h-h-h!" he shuddered in response.

"I told you it'd feel good," I told him. "Take a look at your belly though."

Patrick did just that, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"How? What the? I... I didn't come?" he stammered in surprise and confusion as he noticed the absence of semen on his belly. He looked around him in search of the usual spatters of expelled semen that normally accompanied his orgasm, even going so far as to look up at the headboard, but found nothing but the precum on his belly. "But... I must've come - I felt it!"

"You did come," I assured him. "You just had a "dry" orgasm, that's all."

"A "dry" orgasm?" he responded with evident scepticism.

"I never knew this until recently," I began to explain as my finger remained buried deep inside his back passage. "But apparently in men, orgasm and ejaculation are two different things, and it's possible to trigger off an orgasm without causing an ejaculation, and no ejaculation means there's no refractory period."

"Meaning?" Patrick said as he looked back at me in a state of mild confusion.

"It means that you can have another orgasm almost right away!"

And so to prove my point I set my finger to work inside him once again, and sure enough, within minutes he was once more writhing in the throes of a second powerful orgasm. And after that, a third.

After his third orgasm in quick succession, something neither he nor I would ever have thought possible before (multiple male orgasms, whatever will they think of next?) I decided it was about time for the grand finale. I eased my finger out of his behind and shuffled forwards, lining him up with my entrance. Once I was satisfied that both he and I were in alignment I lowered myself down upon him. I sighed in contentment as I felt him inside me, a sentiment echoed by Patrick at the exact same moment.

"Ahhh, oh baby that's so good," he murmured below me.

In contrast to my normally frenetic style in this position, on this occasion I took things as slowly as I could - instead of riding him like a bucking bronco I slowly gyrated my hips around. I reached down and took his left hand and placed it on my right breast. Patrick took the hint and began softly kneading my breast and teasing my proudly stiffened nipples. It was as excitingly blissful a moment of union as Patrick and I had ever felt together, and our deep loving connection drew us closer together than ever before. At that moment it was almost as if the two of us had become a single entity of passionate conjoining. Words simply cannot express how wonderful it felt. What I will say is this, however - it was definitely the most wonderful start to a birthday that any man could wish for.

"Let yourself go, my wonderful birthday boy," I sighed down at him. "Don't worry about making me come - this is all for you."

I wanted him to know that he should feel no obligation to please me - although it goes without saying that it definitely wasn't without some degree of pleasure for myself.

"Come in me," I urged him on. "Come in me whenever you want."

And then I surprised him with a phrase that I'd been practicing recently.

"Is breá liom duit, mo fhear céile, níos mó ná mar a d'fhéadfadh a fhios agat riamh."

I love you, my darling husband, more than you could ever know.

Okay, so maybe my diction was a little off, but the words seemed to have the desired effect.

"Allie? You learned Gaelic? For me?" he said in mild astonishment as I continued to gyrate my hips.

"Just that one phrase," I replied to him. "I don't know if I said it right though."

"It doesn't matter if you said it right - just the fact that you went to the trouble of learning it is enough to convey the sentiment," he said with a smile. "But take it from me, you said it perfectly."

"The finer points of Celtic languages and the art of sticking your fingers up a man's bumhole to give him mind-blowing multiple orgasms - isn't it amazing what you can learn off the internet these days!" I said down to him with a smile of my own.

Patrick just laughed at that, causing his penis within me to rub around my inner sanctum - it was enough to set him off, and triggered his body's natural point of no return. Just seconds later he erupted inside me, filling me with his warm seed. It was a feeling that I savoured as always.

"Uh! Hah! Oh, holy feckin' bejesus!" Patrick gasped and grimaced as he came. "Hnngghh! Hahh-h-h-h-hah! Hmmff-f-f-f!"

His cock twitched and pulsated within me, and it felt hotter and harder than ever, and I could feel the excess of his spend oozing out from inside me. This one was definitely not a "dry" orgasm, this was a full-on ejaculation of epic proportions and intensity.

The French have an endearing little phrase: "la petite mort". It translates as "the little death" and although it sounds rather macabre, it is actually used to describe that moment after a particularly strong orgasm when a man or woman appears to briefly lose consciousness, and that was exactly what happened to Patrick once his orgasm subsided. For a few seconds he just went completely limp, his eyes closed and he wore an expression of blissful release on his face. When he came round a few moments later he just smiled up at me in utter wonderment of my lovemaking skills and of his own body's unlocked potential for experiencing orgasms far more potent than anything he'd experienced before.

"Happy birthday, Patrick," I said once he became fully aware of his surroundings once more.

I leaned forward to kiss him, and as I did he slipped out of me - his spent and gradually softening penis glistening with our combined secretions.

"Makes me wish it was me birthday every day," he said with a sigh once our lips parted. "Mind you, it means I'm really gonna have to pull out all the stops for your birthday!"

"I don't know about you, but I've worked up a hell of an appetite - how does breakfast in bed sound?"

"I'd say it sounds like heaven."

"And of course, I have to give you the rest of your presents - including something very special."

"Such as?"

"I'm not telling you, silly! You'll have to unwrap it yourself. But I just hope you like it and, well, that you don't take it the wrong way."

"Well now you've gone and ignited my curiosity," Patrick smiled. "Now, get on, wo'an, and get me breakfast made - I can't wait to find out what this mysterious gift is!"