The Chronicles of Richard Pt. 02

Crystal's Turn

He sent me a picture from the club that night. He'd stripped down to his underwear and was absolutely beaming in the selfie. I texted him back some kiss emojis and told him to go check his phone if he didn't want to lose it, then went about doing my skincare routine before bed. Archie had gone down alright and I checked his crib as I spread cream across my forehead.

What?

Did you expect some shrew of a wife, clueless as to her husbands activities and predilections? Nah bro, I ain't that. Thanks for thinking of me though.

I'm Crystal, Richard's wife.

The great thing about telling stories from different perspectives is that nobody is a reliable narrator and nobody fully knows everyones truth. I'm fascinated by what people imagine me to be after reading Braden's story. Am I the standard issue Stepford bride, blonde hair, wide hips and mom hair, the doting type who's life will shatter if Richard's escapades come to light?

First off. Not white. You can call me an Indian princess, by way of the Delhi suburbs (3rd gen) and if I'm being honest- that probably brought me to Richard.

I like to think that most folks are aware, but its tough out there to be a brown girl- especially if you're even a tinge darker than what you might see in a diverse cosmetics campaign. I think I became aware of how things were at a fairly young age- I mean, most young girls get their first "ick" over creepy men at a shocking age- but beyond that, I came to understand that in North America my skin seemed to make me a non-starter with most boys. I had managed to get through my entire adolescence without even a date or a second glance

So by the time college started to expand the horizons, I was white hot and ready to go. The first date I ever went on was in second semester, and I think I scared him off by giving him -an admittedly horrible- blow job in his car. As shit as that was, the filthiness of his cum in my mouth, his discomfort and embarrassment in the moment- it ripped the band aid off my horny little self and changed me.

While I understood that most of the men that approached me didn't have long term intent, and that I didn't look like the girl most of the guys wanted to take home to mom- I was 20 and incredibly fucking horny. So I let soooo much shit slide. Do I regret a lot of it, yeah. Were there a lot of men not worth the UTI, very much so. I laid waste to my dignity during my college years, but to a great degree don't regret it But I digress. This is a Richard story.

Two years after graduating college I found myself as the side piece to a former professor. He was in a "troubled" marriage and we hooked up at an alumni event. After his wife started harassing me and an STI scare, I swore off men for a long long time. So it came as a surprise months later when I met Richard.

It was at bar for a mutual friends birthday, and I was starting to feel myself again. I figured I'd already gotten two clean bills of health, and enough time had passed since the professor, maybe I could safely get laid again. Richard had dark shoulder length hair and pale skin. His face was kind and his lips soft but it had been my experience that the tall skinny young dudes had sizeable cocks, and I was ready to get dicked down. He was cute responding to my flirtation, which felt different than most guys. I mean, you give a guy a hint you're horny and they get serious in no time. Richard seemed childishly giddy and a bit shy which kinda threw me.

When we got back to my place, I was thoroughly impressed by his make-out game and relaxed a little. I figured I would let him take the lead for a bit and see where things went, but immediately tensed up when his hand began to snake down the front of my pants. I hadn't expected to meet anyone tonight, or this week really- so I'd let the upkeep on the downstairs fall to the wayside. I prefer to be on my game before hookups, so this was moderately embarrassing. What put me to ease though was watching him close his eyes as he furtively explored my pubes. He bit his lip and breathed out through his nose, seemingly lost in the joys of my furry bush. By the time a finger slipped inside me I was back to my calmer self. He'd eventually laid me back and helped me off with my pants, getting great pleasure at the sight of me in my basic cotton briefs. Richard slunk down in the bed to level his face to my crotch, smiling at me before closing his eyes and nuzzling my bits with nose and mouth. I threw my head back and concentrated on the sensation of his hands gripping my thighs, his tongue tasting the wet spot in my panties. I covered my face with my arms when he pulled the fabric to the side and finally met my lips with his own. The smell of my raw cunt seemed to invigorate him as he pushed his face between my legs and ate.

At that was the thing about Richard. Through all the years we'd been together he had consistently proven to be a man that worshipped my pussy.

While that first night's sex was average, and I felt a little let down by his lack of size- I found myself falling for the gentle, quiet boy with the sexual enthusiasm and curiosity that kept me aroused.

Fucking after subsequent dates got better, but what I came to love and savour with him was the unexpected moments of pushed boundaries. That first night was no match for the morning he caught me doing dishes. He'd stayed over and wandered out into the kitchen completely naked. I'd heard him get up but was still a little surprised when he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the back of my head. Before I could tell him good morning he had his hands in the front of my pants and his cock wedged between my ass cheeks. My slow morning brain began to move from chores to arousal as I felt my sweats and underwear pulled to mid-thigh. His hands searched for my cunt as he crudely pushed into me. We had talked about my desire to be taken during pillow talk one night, so I'd already loosely consented to this scenario. Richard began to fuck me while I tried to steady myself against the counter with wet hands. Matching his rhythm I started to stick my ass out as I leaned my face down on the granite. Richard pulled on my hips as he let out a whine and I think we were both caught off guard when he prematurely shot his load inside me. Dedicated as could be, he kept trying to fuck until he went limp and fell out, but as the mutual disappointment sank in, he dropped to his knees and face planted in my rear.

My eyes widened the fuck up let me tell you. In hindsight I think I had been primed by the circumstance, teased with the brief dicking and utterly shocked by his follow up. Nobody had ever gone down on me after fucking so this was an entirely new experience for me. I'd had so much sex by then where the dudes orgasm was the finish line, that I'd never thought a fuck could be foreplay. But that's exactly what was going on now.

I remembered Richard trying to twist my body around, so he could get a better mouthful and how he looked when we made eye contact. He was a mix of a kid in a candy store, and a determined sex fiend and I could see the light glaze of our mixed juices on his face before me went back to work again. I slid down so the small of my back was braced by the counter and kept myself propped up on elbows as my legs fell loosely open. Richard's mouth was manic magic and he had become quite familiar with what worked on my coochie so I fell easily into an orgasmic state. His tongue moved to flick and suck my clit as his fingers sawed inside of me. But I knew I was done for when he found my G-spot and mashed my hood with his face. My legs shook heartily as I bellowed and lost time. The summary of incredible feelings from that experience included our deep, gasping kiss as I came down from the high tasting his cum on his own lips. I think I knew in that moment he was the man for me.

Over the ensuing years we did just about everything. We fucked outdoors, we used every imaginable toy, and played every desirable role with one another. But the thing that struck me as unique about Richard was how he never needed to fuck to enjoy sensuality.

Plenty of guys I'd been with seem to operate off the basic three-act structure of sex. The three A's; Arousal-Action-Afterglow. Someone gets hard, someone gets off and someone feels accomplished. And for the most part I had signed on for that whole business, thinking that if I somehow came, it was proper sex. But Richard seemed to enjoy getting naked and feeling each other up without orgasm, or maybe even penetration- which was something I hadn't realized I needed. Sometimes I just wanted him to caress my breasts while kissing my neck, or to explore his cock and balls without trying to jerk him off. The pressure to perform soon fell away to just simply enjoying one another physically, and I think the last vestiges of my "tough" and "worldly" persona fall away. And thats when I knew I loved him.

So we got married once we both hit 30, managing to stave off all the pressures and nagging from my mother and Aunties and despite swearing we weren't "those people" Richard and I both seemed to get baby mad right away. We practically started trying from the honeymoon, becoming those stereotypical horny newlyweds who couldn't keep their hands off one another. A year into it we were pleased but cautious when I peed on the stick and got the news we'd been waiting for. Sadly, we didn't even reach the first trimester when I miscarried. It was a gutting experience, but I was glad we hadn't told anyone. It seemed as if most women I'd known had gone through something similar, so I didn't feel too burdened by shame or anything. It was the second miscarriage though that put me in a deep depression and threatened the relationship between Richard and I.

I think the first time I had been mentally preparing for things not to come to fruition. Like I said, so many other girls I knew had suffered a loss the first time out, we'd all morosely reasoned that our bodies weren't ready yet and that we were still in the process of physiologically transitioning into mothering forms, yada, yada. The second miscarriage I took personally, because while one seemed understandable, two felt like a signifier that something was permanently wrong with me. And that was gutting as fuck. Rich and I spent a lot of time talking, holding one another and crying. We saw a couples counsellor, talked to my OBGYN, looked at the costs of IVF and just tried to muddle through our lives. It was one particular night though when I'd realized how much we had neglected our sex lives that seemed to turn things around.

I'd woken up late at night needing to pee and had tried to scurry back under the covers when the bathroom light sliced across my husbands naked body. Rich had kicked off the blankets and lay diagonally across his side of the bed with any angry looking erection. His face was peaceful, laid against his left arm while his right one hugged a pillow. I studied his softer belly and loose nest of pubic hair, he had changed since we first met. His hair was corporately short and the sharp features of his face had rounded out. A jumble of tired thoughts filled my head looking at him; what had happened to us? We were little rebels once, and now we were failing at the traditional lives we always loathed. I was mad at his hard little cock, and how easy he was sleeping, but simultaneously sad and shamed that I couldn't please him or give him a child. He rolled onto his back, showing me his vulnerable body and weirdly fuelling a new desire. He was pale and pink and erect with his soft belly in view, and while I cherished my husband...

I climbed into bed, straddling Rich's legs and studying his face for reaction. Nothing. I gripped his cock and squeezed, surprised to see a pearl of precum leak out, furthering the resentment I had for his sensual sleep. Moving my hand up I coated my palm with his jizz then slid back down his shaft. His eyes scrunched and head moved, which was all I needed to continue- a reaction. He'd been so sweet and kind and caring, but I guess I was missing his unexpected overtures and filthy, pleasing demeanour- which once again, was something I resented. I squeezed his cock again, seemingly pulling him from slumber. In the moment his eyes fluttered open I leaned forward and put my hand over his mouth. He abruptly focussed on me and reactively began to panic- so I began to masturbate him. Rich took some time to catch on and stopped struggling but the fear and confusion never left his eyes. As my efforts milked him and wet my palm he fell powerless to the handjob and I uncovered his mouth. His lips formed an "o" and I firmly gripped his throat.

Thats when I crossed a bridge, realizing for the first time that I could enjoy being a little sadistic and controlling. I suppose I had been lucky enough to have become familiar with love and care, but had a quiet affinity for something different. As I'd felt unable to control my own body and our fate, I suppose in that moment I wanted to take something back. I stared down at the man I loved, balancing fear, resentment and arousal as I choked him and brought him to orgasm. He shot long strings of cum that painted his belly and chest, glob after glob seemingly forever. Our recent celibacy had left him drenched in sperm and given me the most grateful face I'd ever seen on a man. His eyes fluttered as his cheeks reddened and I surveyed the mess as I disengaged. I moved under the covers and left him laying exposed for a few moments, before flinging the bedspread over his legs and rolling onto my side. The last thing I remembered before drifting off -satisfied- was his cum covered body spooning into me and dirtying my back.

We woke up the next day peeling apart our skin and languidly kissing in the shower. From behind he wrapped his fingers around my throat and whispered into my ear.

"This was fucking hot"

I could feel his erect penis against my ass as he reached between my legs with his free hand.

From there we distracted ourselves with deviancy, with him playing vulnerable to draw out my dominance. Any time he tried to exercise strength, he was met with my fury, and it was too easy for him to take to his knees. Many a morning I would wake him up by sitting on his face and cut off his breathing. The sudden struggle would melt into fealty as I rode his face and used his mouth for pleasure. He would eventually gain the upper hand and angrily fuck me doggy-style while pulling my hair, cumming then pulling out to leave me crudely empty and dripping. From time to time we would negotiate play but it was the drive-by "shootings" that seemed to rev our mutual engines.

One particular time, we did discuss the prospect of tying him up. Rich went out and bought leather cuffs and soft black rope and we set aside some time on a Friday night. It was beginning to feel a little too "suburban swingers" with all the discussion and planning, so I had gone out of my way to get a few special provisions to surprise him with. We were sharing a bottle of wine a few hours after dinner when he asked if it was time. I took a moment to think about it, swirling the sediment around in my glass.

"Get the stuff,"

I didn't bother to look at him or react, I was starting bitch mode early.

Richard walked into the bedroom to gather stuff while I continued watching TV. He walked back in the living room removing tags and price stickers.

"You should be naked already," I sharply spat out, never pulling my eyes from the sitcom we had been watching. He began to undress, and when he seemed to be finished I gave my next command. "Get the beach towel from the top of the hall closet. Lay it out, then get on your back," Rich went about his duties while I tipped the wine glass back and finished my red. I got up and passed by him in the hall, seeking out the black plastic bag I'd hidden in the den. I stripped off my clothes and walked back to the living room, just in time to see him settle naked onto the beach towel. I could see he was a little taken aback I'd just stripped off, figuring that I would have been in strict domme mode and stayed semi clothed. His eyes followed me and my bag of goodies, he seemed desperate to ask what I'd bought but knew better. I sat to his side and untangled the leather cuffs while he brought his wrists together for me. I clasped one of the bands to his left hand and pulled it above his head, stringing the short chain through the support of the cub chair we'd bought second hand. Rich lifted his other arm allowing me to affix him to the furniture. I momentarily worried about his circulation before considering that a someone else's problem. Silently I reached into the bag and pulled out a hard plastic ball gag, all in black. Rich seemed eager to try this and prematurely opened his mouth. I undid the clasp and carefully strung it around the back of his head, making sure the ball fit firmly.

The next item I pulled out of the bag looked confusing as fuck as it was just a big pile of nylon straps. Rich furrowed his brow as he watched me sort it all out. I was not an experienced dominatrix, so I hope he wasn't expecting me to move with elegant ease here. I finally figured things out and moved above Richard's prone body, gently placing a pad beneath his head and neck pulling out two long straps with loops at the end. It was a struggle to manipulate his body, but I finally managed to get the straps attached to Richard's ankles, instantly demonstrating where I was going with this. Tied to the living room chair, with a gag in his mouth I now had Rich trussed up with his legs pulled toward his chest, exposing his hairy, pink asshole. I did my best to not laugh or smile, but I was definitely enjoying this funny, awkward sight. I just had no idea as to how far things would go.

Moving to his back door, I drug my little black bag along the carpet. The first thing I pulled out was an 8" flesh coloured dildo, realistic with angry veins and tapered head. I purposely laid that out on Rich's belly, the base lining up with his balls and offering a humiliating comparison to his soft little nub. You could sense the fear in him as he contemplated how much of the dildo he could take. While I had done my fair share of taint tickling during blow jobs and what not, I'd never deigned to stick a finger up there nor had he asked- so this was some real boundary pushing. We HAD agreed to push boundaries after all.

I stood up as I pulled the harness out of the bag, shaking it loose and studying its construction so I knew where to put my legs. Richard watched me as I daintily stepped through the leather straps and maneuvered it into place. Whatever dominance I'd built thus far likely fell apart as I examined the hole in the front of the harness trying to figure out how to attach my new schlong. I knelt down and amused myself looking at Richard while reaching into the bag again. I pulled out a smooth black dildo with vibrating base, a secondary purchase I'd made after figuring that the 8" monster was too big. Richard struggled to see what I was doing, peering from confinement between his suspended legs. I looped the new cock beneath the harness, getting it pointed in the right direction before shifting the bottom around to sit on my clit.

Richard's puckered hole lay between two round cheeks, a strip of dark hair running from his balls to the top of his crack appearing in stark contrast to his smooth pale skin. In that moment I was pleased and felt lucky I had a boy who knew how to wash, but could still detect the faint smell of body wash and ass. This was going to be dirty. For his part, Rich remained perfectly still as I gloved my hands and used my fingers to spread the lube over his entrance.

If I can, I just want to say something I couldn't have verbalized at the time- but like... sex is always so cock-centric, its always so male. Its always his brute strength and command as he looms over the pussy like a lord. So there was something so incredibly kinky and redeeming to have reduced everything down to the wrinkled, dime-sized flesh of my husbands ass. So hidden, so taboo, so much shame involved. I guess I wanted him to feel that shame a little bit, wanted him to know how vulnerable that all felt. Richard had never fucked me in the ass, nor did he ever mistreat me- but I had a lifetime of shitty hook ups and bad boyfriends who's crime in the least was to not respect and appreciate the vulnerability that women experience. I loomed over Rich and bathed in the desire I had to switch roles for once, but was also in awe over him being open to sharing this experience. Where I may have enjoyed his struggle and resistance in other play, it was his stillness and acceptance that heightened the moment now.