Loving My Husband for You

You write me every day; you order me what to do. You give me permission when I can masturbate at work; you tell me how to do it for you. You obsess with my 34A breasts. You lovingly gave them names, Rita for the right one, Linda for the left. Your commands range from the highly erotic to the just-plain-kinky. You write me a quick note telling me to hide my very erect nipples from prying eyes at work by taping them over with band-aids. You ask me to press them hard against the cold window at work while I am talking to clients. You tell me to take out a highlighter from my desk drawer and trace a bold yellow circle around my aureoles and then to tease my nipples with the cap. You tell me to unfold a paper clip and slip it under my bra to feel its cold tip against the tender skin of my nipples. You order me to wield two pencils like chopsticks and pinch my nipples between the two erasers until I am on the verge of a climax. Such are your notes that I end up having to change panty liners four and five times a day: my wetness flows incessantly with desire to meet you.

You drive me out of my mind with wild desire, every note from you planning a subsequent date, even though we have not yet even met. You tease me about your lovely 5 inch penis, you force me to describe how I think it is, and yet you taunt me by not even sending me a picture of you totally nude, erect and throbbing for me.

You make me insanely jealous when you write me telling me in great detail how you use your wife's body to fantasize you are fucking me instead. You make me rage with jealousy telling me how you tweak her nipples and she does not like it, when instead I know you are using hers to fantasize you are tormenting mine to no end.

You tell me how you thrust into your wife's pussy and how happy she gets. I know that your wife cannot possibly be completely fulfilled with a 5 inch penis, and yet I despair with the desire of feeling just as unfulfilled as she. I know that a man with such a small penis will overcompensate in other ways to pleasure a woman, and that is just what I want. You deny it to me.

Often I have told you that you will not be allowed to fuck my pussy. Yes, you may finger-fuck me all you want, but my pussy belongs to my husband. Yes, you will always be welcome as my anal guest. You ignore my plea. You send me countless notes telling me you want to tit-fuck me until I scream, knowing that my very meager 34A breasts can hardly touch, much less wrap around your thick, richly veined 5 inch penis. I long so much to have you.

You order me to refrain from climaxing at work. Yes, you give me permission to do all imaginable things to myself, and yet you deny me the ultimate joy. Instead, you tell me to go home to my own husband.

In our matrimonial bedroom you have told me to leave my laptop on the dresser across from our bed. The webcam is turned on. From afar, you can see our bedroom, you can see everything my husband and I do. And in the intimacy of our married life, I know that afar, in some distant and unknown city you are watching me perform with my own husband. I know that you are observing us and jerking off. It excites me beyond words to perform with my husband in full view of a total stranger.

Slowly I undress near the camera. I want you to see my sheer blouse fall to the floor, my tiny bra come undone. I quiver as I turn to the camera to give you a closer view of my meager breasts, nipples boldly erect. Slowly I fondle my breasts, rubbing them, attempting as best I can to bring them close together. Boldly, I show you first my right nipple, usually a bit perkier and harder, then the left one, always much more sensitive and tending to rise a bit to the side. I am ashamed of my smallness, and yet curiously excited showing you how I am.

My very own husband comes over. He does not know the camera is turned on, broadcasting his seduction to a total stranger whom I have never met. My husband slides my slacks off. I stand before the camera shaking in my panties. My husband removes those, always so lovingly taking care of me. I sense the camera watching and through it, you too are jerking off when you first get a glimpse of my untrimmed pubic hair.

I take a deep breath. There is no turning back. How I have to perform on camera for you. I motion my husband to lie on the bed. I take off his shirt and remove his trousers. Placing myself aside him so as to not block the camera, I take off his briefs slowly. You too can see his cock now, very clearly. I know you do not enjoy seeing other men, but this time you feel strangely interested. After all, my husband's is the ONLY cock I will EVER allow into my pussy.

I place my left hand at the base of his cock. Carefully I wrap it around so that just the top 5 inches of his cock show. After all, my husband is not as small as your lovely penis by a long shot. I want to imagine how it would feel to caress yours. Only 5 inches show. My left hand is not squeezing nor doing anything: just covering the middle and bottom of his cock and holding it in place.

My husband has a lot of pre-cum flowing. I use only one finger, my middle finger, to slide over his cock. Up and down, slowly. Side to side, slowly. I trace his glans, slowly. Carefully, I look at it. Every movement of my middle finger is perfectly visible to you, too. Going back again and again to his wetting pee hole, my middle finger gets wetter and wetter, sliding easier and easier over his penis, rubbing it deep into his slit, pressing into his pee hole as if to try to slide it into it. I know you are jerking off watching me do it. Often, I have told you how much I would love to do this TO you and just sit back to watch you ejaculate into thin air. Only that now I am doing it FOR you online.

A few times my husband has pleaded for relief. I have denied it, holding back until he calms down before resuming my one-finger hand-job. Occasionally I slap around his swollen testicles to remind him of what I enjoy him doing to my breasts. He moans.

It is not fair to keep him under so much sexual stress. I look at the camera and smile. I know you are jerking off just watching me. I straddle my husband and lower myself. Slowly, you can see my pussy engulfing him to the hilt. I sit atop him for a moment, feeling him deep inside me, feeling his throbbing banging against my ovaries.

I lean over, pinning his hands down with mine. I do not want him touching my nipples. The moment he squeezes my nipples with all his might I always have an orgasm. Today I want to hold off -- for you.

I lean way over, spreading my knees as far apart as I can. I want you to see my derrière. I want you to see my anus. I want you to see how my husband's cock slides in and out of me, moving my pencil-thin labia in and out.

I want you to see me, do you understand that?

I want you to watch me while I fuck my own husband. I want you to see what makes me feel good. I want you to watch us carefully so that when you finally DO decide you want to date me for real, you can ravage me with reckless abandon.

I WANT YOU TO SEE ME!

I am so extremely aroused that my pelvic and vaginal muscles clamp shut tight. It is almost painful on his cock when I do that. And yet, it prevents him from having an orgasm much to my delight. My Kegel lessons and exercises are working perfectly!

My husband is struggling. Like you, he too knows that it is physically impossible for me to have a clitoral orgasm. Like you, he too knows that the only way I can climax is when my nipples are pinched extremely sharply and tightly. He struggles to free his hands, to race his fingers to my nipples. I do not let him free.

But I know that you too must have the same anxiety as you jerk off watching me fuck my very own husband. I know that you too need relief.

Quickly I spin around, still atop my husband, still straddling him reverse-cowboy. I show my frontal nudity to you in the camera. I ride my husband with fury and passion. You can clearly see my meager breasts moving up and down just a bit, as much as such little breasts can move. On camera, you can see my pussy pumped in and out by my husband's cock. You wish it was your lovely penis instead, but you know I will never allow you to have vaginal intercourse with me. it drives you wilder with desire.

All good things must come to an end.

In an instant, I release my grip on my husband's hands. They race to grab both my nipples with all his might between his fingers.

I scream.

He lurches up, sitting up behind me, my nipples firmly in his grip.

I scream again and again.

On camera you can see my husband's cock violently convulsing. You know he is ejaculating copious gallons of semen deep into my pussy.

I am still screaming.

I bend over almost touching my toes. That position gives my husband utmost penetration. I feel like his penis is throbbing all the way inside me, all the way through my throat.

My screams turn to moans.

My moans turn to sighs.

I am limp as a rag.

I fall over and lie in my husband's powerful arms.

The last sound I hear is the laptop announcing, "You have mail."

I smile.

I do not need to look.

I do not need to read my email.

I know it is a note from you.

I know you are happy to have watched me.

And that you will be using your wife's body now to fuck me instead.

I fall asleep. My dreams are a mixture of intense jealousy that you are fucking her and that you have made me very happy by watching me fuck my own husband for you.