Playdate

Hello, I am Lara, the conservative Christian wife of my husband. We've been married seventeen years. As part of a couples counseling class I am to write a detailed confession of the last time we made love. I am fortunate in this assignment as we make videos when we have intercourse and we both enjoy watching these together.

(My editor suggests the above sounds creepy and questionable. I clarify that the assignment was not to turn in for someone to read - the benefit is in the writing. The counselor does not expect us to share our essay with anyone though she mentioned in passing that some attendees shared this with their spouse. The mixed outcomes provided a cautionary tale but she left the decision up to us and our individual cases.)

My husband is forty-two and fit while showing the normal 'growth' for his years. He golfs and lifts weights and we walk regularly together. To encourage our walks which I love I make myself availabe to him afterward for intimacy even on those days I don't really feel like it. Surprisingly we've both come to enjoy these times together and sometimes even make love in the evening again (tenderly and unhurried or relaxed and playful) after the sometimes steamy afternoon sessions.

In any case I watched the video of the last time and will try to describe what we did. He asked me to change into something sexy and to surprise him so I removed my bra and put on a tank top that is really a size too small for me. My breasts are shamefully displayed when I wear this which I would only do in the privacy of our house. Of course he loves it! I also put on a very brief pair of cutoff jean shorts that serve only to display as much skin as possible while barely covering my bottom! He calls these 'Daisy Dukes' and associates my outfit with my pretending to be a rural vixen of loose morals willing to perform any sex act her partner demands. In a funny way I love to dress up for him and I enjoy the huge smile the outfit always brings. It seems to encourage me to be more verbal in expressing my desires. ('Harder!' and so forth-)

He loves me so, just the way I am and I've never refused any desire he expressed even when dressed in my Sunday church outfit. More than once I've gone to Sunday School and Church with him fresh inside me from bending me over the sofa and pulling my dress and slip up and my panties down and having his way with me. I don't mind as long as he doesn't muss my hair or makeup. I know in some ways my friends would think me a slut for this behavior but I believe my husband to be among the happiest husbands of the families we know.

He makes me sit in his lap wearing my 'Daisy' outfit and he talks to me so soft and sexy like we've just met on the front porch of one of those rustic trailer houses you see along country roads or in one of those 'anything goes' country dance halls. He pretends to be a traveling salesman who's found a sweet treasure out in the woods with her family absent for the day. He tells me how pretty I am, how sweet I smell ( I buy a cheap toilet water at the Dollar Store just for him!), and he loves that my nails are polished but worn from a few days since I had them done. Toes, too are important to him - he loves them polished and I have to stop him from suckling them for hours when the nails are pretty and shiny. His words become more and more intimate and I manage a blush or two when he gets too fresh with his comments and soon his lips find mine and I can surrender to his amorous caresses like the simple and natural girl I become in my costume.

I love his hands, these are one of the first things I liked about him - how big they are and strong and a bit rough. He's put some lotion on them today and they are softened a little and I shiver when he caresses my bobbing breasts under the flimsy top. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and a moan escapes from chest as he fondles me mercilessly. I can feel him getting stiff under my bottom and we both smell a bit urgently of perspiration.

Soon the top is pulled over my head and he shoves my head sideways while passionately likcing and kissing my ears and my neck while those coarse hands fondle my breasts. I murmur 'Yes, yes' and 'Dear God!' in a throaty moan and this encourages him. 'Daisy' is free to feel her basest pleasures in a way that seems very natural to me but normally takes an effort to let go so completely. SHe parts her legs when his hand moves between her thighs and the smell of sopping wet pussy joins the air between us. Our eyes meet and I smile at him so he'll feel free to pull the jeans off of me but he takes his cock out and looks at me that way boys do when they want that special pleasure of ruby-red lips wrapped around their tender but steely shaft. Is the abasement of falling to one's knees part of the pleasure, channeling one's inner slavegirl?

I slide out of his lap and kneel down while he stands and lets his pants drop off. He likes me to pull his underwear down to show that I've surrendered and willing to do his bidding. I look up at him tearfuly and give him the 'dewy-eyed princess (virgin)' look that shows him what a prize he's captured and his hips thrust forward to present me with little option but to push my lips over the red, swollen head of his cock. He tastes of sweat and sex and is flowing sticky bitter onto my tongue but I act like it's the sweetest honey I've ever tasted and smile cunningly around his shaft up at him. He loves to thrust himself in and out of my mouth, holding my hair cruelly (ruining my artful pigtails) and 'forcing' me to take him all the way. I place my hands on his thighs but caress them, loving the steely muscle I feel but keeping my face submissive and pleading.

I've learned to hold my breath long enough to give him whatever satifsfaction he derives without but he likes me to pretend to choke and then to cough when he relents. He bats my face playfully with an open palm and I gaze up at him in fearful love of his masterful dominance. I can tell he's really horny because he pulls me to my feet after only a little oral pleasure. HIs embrace is passionate and lengthy and his arms enfold me warmly for that kiss that is only ours. I close my eyes and just enjoy the ocean of satisfaction and contentment I find with him when we possess one another completely.

He spins me about and presses me down over the bed and I fall 'helplessly' flat on our marital bed, my hardly clad bottom displayed before my man as if in a store for such things. The thong I'm wearing is intentionally worn and stretched, the bright fabric showing holes at the edges through which the elastic is visible. If I wiggle a bit lasciviously to tease him it's involuntary by now and the inner sexual woman has taken over. There's much fulness in my bottom and I know from his gasp of pleasure that the sight pleases him. I feel those horny hands grasp my brief and hole-y garment and he forces them down over my hips, then down my thighs, It's my turn to moan out my desire and to reach behind to pull my cheeks apart to display my bottom as if all resistance has been abandoned to lust.

'Please' I exclaim as I display myself shamelessly.

It's been a while for this travelling salesman and there is no more foreplay - the soft tip burrows itself just below my nethermost hole for his aim is sure. I'm hot and wet and ready and his cruel thrust meets no resistance as he ploughs me off my feet hard against our mattress. How I'd love what I've read when the first thrust ends in simultaneous orgasm for both partners but neither of us is eighteen any more so much in and out awaits as I buck against him both of us finding our rhythm while crying for release. l am Daisy, uninhibited and seeking my own fulfillment by now as he does me stunningly well banging me as hard as possible with fast, long full fucks.

I'll ask my Lord later to forgive my calling on him (loudly!) during this time for fleshy things. My husband responds with his own sinful oaths as he channels his inner beast to have me in the way God intended lovers committed to one another to use one another. If I am Daisy rutting like a nasty yard dog at least I see my wedding band which I never remove no matter the play date so what i offer fully and completely to my husband is mine to give and his to take. This though accompanies my man's horrendous cry as he explodes deep within my body, those powerful cruel hands clasped frantically on my waist holding me to receive his seed as far inside me as possible. I feel the sticky coarse hairs of his thighs against my own soft, smooth buttocks and am filled with love and happiness as I push hard back against him wiggling like a French courtesan to encourage his orgasm to never end.

The man I love groans and pants like my Grandpa's hound dog used to after supper when I took him the table scraps. I almost never orgasm during our sexcapades but the enjoyment I feel is full and rewarding. He knows I love him to fall beside me on the bed and to take me in his arms and give me a thousand million kisses all over my head and face and lips and throat, whispering the names he uses only for me, the loving words I've come to enjoy. Our play over, I am free to call him 'Husband' and to play with his hairy chest with my fingers while my arms are trapped between us. Our game after is for me to try to trap his lips against mine for a full kiss while he dances his lips all about. After a time he lets me catch him and we moan contentedly against one another.

This time he doesn't fall asleep, no, his hands find my breasts and begin a loving massage of soft caresses that turn urgent slowly and meaningfully. He suckles my nipples gently then more firmly before his kisses take to my chest then my belly and then it is his turn to kneel before his goddess and pleasure her with his lips and tongue. His cheeks are scratchy and coarse but I don't mind and once again I wonder how it would feel if he could grow a full beard. Then he finds my inner lips and he parts me to caress me inside, a naughty index finger on that button now beside his nose. Once again I must promise prayers of forgiveness as throaty moans and soft cries dance about the marital chamber. Two fingers intrude softly then more intimately and somehow his thumb finds the tender rim of my bottom and begin circling - - -

I scream as his lips enfold my clit suckling gently while fingers, fingers, fingers and thumb, Dear God and I feel my eyes roll back in my head, I do not lie. I hear his cruel chuckle as my body throbs around him and I am holding him and now my prayers are genuine and heartfelt.

'Pancakes' I whisper as I fall asleep to his soft lips on my neck. I can almost smell them - - -