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Message-ID: <32950asstr$1003129802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "semanticus" <semanticus@mediaone.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 14 Oct 2001 19:25:30 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} Ex-wife's Sexual Teasing (FD, oral, Fetish, aspxiation)
Date: Mon, 15 Oct 2001 03:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Ex-wife's Sexual Teasing
by semanticus



My ex wife and, (what was she?) non-24/7 Mistress, was very good at teasing.
She would ritualistically control the whole sex act by dressing up in
corset, stockings, CFM shoes, etc., and seduce me when she was ready.
Sometimes I would have to wait all evening, sometimes it was straight up to
the bedroom on her command.

She would sit on the bed and make me undress myself and put on a leather
scrotum strap if I didn't already have it on.  I would make them from the
smallest leather dog collars available.  Then she would beckon me near, and
examine me as I stood before her seated on the bed with her legs crossed.
The examination was to fondle my cock and cup my balls in her hand while
tightening her nails into my scrotum.  She would then feel my butt, always
with me turning to see my ass.  She was not anal, I guess, because she never
used her finger or a butt plug or anything to enter my ass.

Then I was ordered to kiss her shoes and feet.  I could never decide if I
liked her in black stockings, great legs--world class--flat as a board
though--or bare footed in just open toed shoes.  She never wore pumps.  She
had great legs and feet and toes and always, always wore spike heeled
sandals or boots.  Even on a 2000 elevation hike up Mt. Tempalpias in Marin
Co, CA.  Ruined the boots, but she didn't own flats or tennis shoes.

Bare footed, I could lick and suck each toe, all 10, a real delight, and she
would cum (or fake one).  With the stockings the reward was those world
class legs looked fantastic in dark stockings with garters, and as I worked
my adoring lips upward--"Not too fast," she would say--I would finally get
to  the ultra smooth skin of her inner thighs.  Somewhere about this time I
was reduced to begging for more.  More of anything.

After a few minutes of adoration of her bare thighs working nearer and
nearer her pussy (I liked to think I was teasing too), I was directed or
allowed to kiss the damp crotch of her panties which she always wore to
prolong the scene, probably.  Naturally, after a while I would try to get my
tongue around them to her pussy, but she would not let me until she was
ready.

Then she would stand and let me take her panties off her.  I always got to
kiss her beautiful rear, but not always got to perform anulinguis on her.
But I always got to eat her, even though I just got to kiss her pussy at
first.  The command was always, "Just kiss."  Usually she would arrange
herself so I could lick her while she stood--by standing with legs wide
apart or one foot up on the bed, but that was not satisfactory very long,
but a tease for us both.

After a while she would sit back down on the edge of the bed and spread her
legs for more, and it was again, "Just kiss."  Finally she would let me lick
just her clit.  She would have one or more orgasms from this, or faked
them--I never knew, then she would let my tongue go deep into her, and she
always tasted fantastic.  She took great care to wash just clean enough, and
often asked for feedback--a too clean pussy is terrible to not-smell and
feel being tasteless.  I was not a creampie eater, and could eat her after I
had cum in her an hour or so ago, but not right away.  She never got too
dirty, but if I had just cum, I was not hot enough probably.  She could feed
my pre-cum to me off her finger, and nearly always did.  She would not let
me eat her during her period, but did let me kiss and lick her pad or tie it
on me for a gag or hold it over my face with her panties with the crotch
over my nose.  She never used tampax, thank God.

The next step was to tell me to get on the bed, "On your back."  I was on my
knees the whole time so far.

On my back on the bed, she would mount my face nearly always facing toward
me, that is, with her back nearer my cock.  Again it was always, "Just
kiss."  Then light licks, then deep tonguing.  sometimes I was allowed to
hold her tiny corseted or teddy'ed waist, but often it was the terse
command, "No hands," or "Don't touch."  What an ache to not be able to touch
or hold her waist or legs as she rode my face above me!  She would cum often
(or fake it), and most often finally fuck my face hard, and hard enough to
give me bruises on my lower lip and a fat lip.  I was so proud of those
bruises the next day.  And I did not wash my face until I shaved the next
time.

If she wanted anulinguis, she would move up over me so my tongue could reach
her asshole, and her pussy fit right over my nose that way.  If she bucked
hard, to use my nose most probably, it hurt, but I was trying to please her
asshole.  I have no idea if she liked it.  I was afraid she might break my
nose sometimes.

She rarely got over me in a sixty-nine position, because, I guess sooner or
later, she liked to ride my lower lip and chin hard, and my nose might
break.  She wanted to suck me, but I never enjoyed it, so we didn't do it.
(Some slave!  But I believed "Better to give than to receive.")

Finally, she would fuck me, moving down to my cock and lowering herself onto
me.  This was where the most variety occurred.  Up till now, it was one
long, long tease, and it didn't matter if she had cum or not--if they were
faked, it was a fantastic ego boost to me and part of the tease that she
could cum so many times and I knew I'd only get one, if she let me.

Sometimes she would let herself down on me slowly, sometimes she would hold
my cock with her hand and tease herself and me with just the tip rubbing up
and down her pussy, sometimes she would forbid me to move and just do the
same cock tip torture without using her hands.  And sometimes I could hold
her waist or touch her legs, and sometimes not.  Both served the teasing
purpose, for there was always the chance....  So I begged--I had been
begging at each step from the beginning, and always there was the chance of
getting to touch her, and always the chance of not getting it.  Or of the
rules changing.  Soon.  Or late.  Or never.  I never knew.

She would progress from slow tantalizing fucking me, to hard.  Often she
would stop with me nearly popping out and stare deep into my eyes
sardonically and evilly and sexy, and knowing, just knowing, and forbid me
to drive up onto her.  "Just hold it.  Stop."  She might resume her own
movements and I was free to drive back up into her, unless she wanted me to
just lie there for her.  And often either upon first stopping in the up
position or after the resumed driving she would stop again, and make me hold
it, and just with my tip in her, would give me a number.  "Just 6 strokes,"
she would say, and hold herself up for me to drive up into her 6 times.  I
always did it with hard up strokes and slow withdrawals and wait just a bit
to tease her, perhaps, or just to make it last before the next violent up
stroke.  She would tell me not to cum and give me another number never more
than 10.  After a few numbers, 9 or10 or more was a test not to cum by this
time.  The number 1 or even 2 was Hell, and bring a whining, blubbering fit
of begging in agony for more.  But she was relentless, choosing numbers
according to her own scheme, which may have been based exactly on knowing
and reading just how long I could hold out or to maximize her own pleasure
within that limit.  I think she always ended it with a command to, "Now,
cum, drive hard," and I would and explode in an orgasm.  During an
especially good climax I would scream so that afterwards I was afraid I
would wake the neighbors.  In the summer with the window open I could not
imagine how no one outside or next door could not hear, so then I was both
proud and embarrassed.  (ah, to be in my 30' and 40's again)  And she always
came simultaneously (or acted like she did.)  I felt like I had done my job
if she had 10 orgasms (real or faked??) for the whole scene.

If I was not sure she wanted me to cum, but I knew I could not stop, say at
the number 10 (I could almost always hold out for 9 or less) or under other
circumstances, I would ask, or tell her and she would never deny me and give
me permission and urging, making that a part of the scene.  She was, after
all, realistic, and knew if I was going to shoot there was no stopping it.

Now the question is, what if she or I had known of milking?  Early in the
marriage, say after 3-5 years (we were married 17) we talked it over and
decided if I had to cum, to just cum to make it good for me, because it
really ruined it for me to try to hold on too long and just "peter out" and
dribble without an explosive climax.  If milking had been attractive for
her--she was all about control and manipulation in everything--she might
well have added that to her bag of tricks.

There was always the spoken or unspoken threat of my not getting to cum.
Very rarely, she would stop, and make me go to sleep without a climax.  She
enjoyed this, but I think she didn't do it very often, because she liked to
make me cum, and probably because she really did cum with me that last time.

She was always on top unless we did it spontaneously upon waking, or not in
bed, then many positions were in order.  On top she could add to the
intensity of my climax by reaching behind her and holding my balls with her
long fingernails digging into my scrotum.  The combination of pain and
pleasure would drive me wild to fulfillment and to escape the pain.  As in
every other part of our lovemaking she had the demeanor and countenance of
calm, cool, and collected, like a maestro playing an instrument.  To
decrease my control and movements, besides forbidding the use of my hands,
she made me keep my legs stretched wide apart until they hurt, and the pain
and difficulty in driving upward was more control for her, less for me.  And
often she would make me hold my hands up to the headboard as if I were in
bondage.

Quite often, when she decided we should cum, or sensed that I was near the
end (never did know--either describes the situation well), she would hold my
balls and scrotum with her nails and use the other hand on my throat to cut
off my air.  Then the race was on to cum to stop the CBT and to breath, and
it seemed understood that my climax was the only way to accomplish that
goal.  With all the control and teasing and understood threat of not being
allow to cum, or to touch, or to move freely, that had preceded, I always
came with a vengeance, and often the same scream but muffled by her choke
hold.

(Only try this with someone you really trust and who can really read you.
And never use an implement, rope, belt, etc.  Too much could go wrong with a
toy that might not cum off you in time. But I felt her hand was safe.)

Why did we divorce?  The sex was great.  She was the sexiest woman I have
ever seen.  Raquel Welch.  Dianne Cannon.  Joey Heatherton.  Sharon Stone,
only not so ugly, Marilyn Monroe singing to the Pres.  Her only power in the
marriage was sex, because she was incompetent or lazy or simply knew sex
could get her by, so never had to perform any other way.  She never
worked--well, when we were broke she got and lost 3 two week jobs in 7
weeks.  Then with a promise to always wear stockings and garter belts, not
panty hose, I agreed to quit trying to get her to work.  I don't think she
kept her word one day.  We had 4 boys, 2 of hers and 2 of mine, and I did
all the work, nearly.  She was a good mother to them all, and kept house
well, and I always had a meal.  In the end we either ate out, took out, or
thawed out.  But the sex was great!  For me and lots of other guys, friends
now tell me.  Oh well, it was pre-aids, or pre hetero-aids.  I can't
complain there, really, ignorance is bliss, besides that's the way I got
her.  And the sex was great.  Good enough to make 17 years.  Actually, she
left me, because my rage at only getting sex but no help with life drove us
apart.  Interestingly, I was impotent the last 4 months of the marriage.  A
therapist later called it "wisdom of the penis"--"I ain't going in
there--it's dangerous in there."  First and only time it got me out of
trouble instead of in it.   Maybe with the impotence she lost her power.
Anyway, she dressed up one last time in corset, stockings, spiked heel
platform sandals, and a see through negligee, stood at the top of the stairs
and called me up, and I got it up and before I had finished my kneeling
work, it went down, and the next day she left.  Can't say she didn't give me
one last chance.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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