The Confession.
Potentially part 1 of a series exploring the life that I might have in a kinder alternate reality. All the people in this story are real and regular readers of my Tumblr blog (praiusultsch.tumblr.com) may even know some of them. This isn't an overtly kinky tale, though it has its sexy moments. If I continue with the series there will be plenty of kinky, mucky moments, I'm sure. I have years of real life experiences to draw on.I finished cooking lasagne, his favourite meal, and called my husband down. Our son was in bed, not asleep but reading, which was good enough.
He sat down and I poured us some wine. "How was your day?" I asked, and got the usual shrug and non commital response. Pretty much the same as mine then, except I had been doing a lot of thinking.
We ate, mostly in silence, I think he knew already something was up. When we finished I cleared away the plates and refilled our glasses.
"Paul, I've got something I need to talk to you about", I said, looking at him and trying to keep my face even. I was already close to tears.
"Uh oh", he said "I knew something was going on."
I love my husband, I love my life with him and our son, I don't want to leave him or move out or anything like that. I just need more than he gives me.
"Before I say anything, I need you to know that I love you, will always love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life."
"Sarah, what the fuck is going on? What have you done?"
I was crying now, jesus, I haven't even said anything yet.
"I, fuck, Paul this is so hard to say". Can I even say it? I've prepared what I was going to say in my mind over and over again, and its gone to shit already.
"Are you having an affair? Have you cheated on me?" He looked pained, not angry, not yet, but deepy worried.
Our relationship outside the bedroom is great. He's a wonderful father, he's fun, kind, and loves me very much. He's a feminist too, and absolutely treats me as his equal. He likes a drink and goes to the pub with his mates more often than I would like but I've done much better than many of my friends who have much less sucessful relationships with their partners. But in the bedroom, its not so great. Our sex life is boring, we rarely have sex and when we do it is underwhealming, for me at least. Ironically, his feminism and need to treat me as an equal means he is very passive, and gentle to the point of disinterest. I don't think he enjoys having sex, at least not with me.
We don't talk about sex, I have no idea if he even masturbates. He must do, right?
I most certainly do, all the time. Given a chance, for hours at a time. I masturbate more than anyone I know, I think.
But I almost never cum.
I am a denial slut. I am addicted to orgasm denial. I masturbate, I edge, over and over and over again, but the last few years I've limited myself, on average, to less than one orgasm a month. I once went over 8 months without cumming, and I edged at least 3 times a day, every day, through the entire period. I masturbate all the time, every moment I can. I am constantly aroused, almost always wet, and always needy. I love it. I'm masturbating as I write this.
And this is where the problem lies. My kind, caring, ideal man of a husband is so honourable that on the rare occasions we do have sex, he *always* makes sure I cum before he does. He's gentle and considerate and loving and all the things many women wish their husbands were. But I don't want gentle and considerate. I'm so fucking needy most of the time I want to be *destroyed*. I want to be pinned down and slapped, forced to choke on his cock, fucked in the arse while he pulls my hair, made to wet myself for his amusement and countless other filthy things that my denial-addled brain has conjured up in the years I've been denying myself.
I fake orgasms.
We have sex, he makes me cum and I fake it. I try to suck his cock till he cums but he never lets it get that far before he wants to be in me, to make sure I get to cum as well. So I fake it, I bend over the bed so he can't see my face and I edge while he fucks me, I rub my clit to the point of orgasm and then I just pretend its happening, and he cums in me, happy in the knowledge we came together.
Sometimes he collapases next to me and tells me he loves me. Sometimes he goes straight to the bathroom to clean up. I want to suck his cock clean, lick our messes from it, but I never get a chance, he's done. I do sometimes scoop his cum out of my cunt and lick it off my fingers, tasting both of us at the same time. I taste myself often when masturbating , I love my own taste (something denial has done to me), but tasting both together is very different. Its not *nice* but I love it regardless.
"I haven't cheated on you, at least not physically"
"What the hell does that mean?" He was angry now.
"I mean, I've not been unfaithful, I haven't slept with anyone else". Fuck why was this so hard to say properly?
"Then what the fuck are you trying to tell me?" He stared at me angrily, then pushed his chair back from the table, crossed his arms and just sat there, waiting.
"I made friends online with a woman, she's sort of a dominatrix. We've been chatting for a while."
He looked confused. "you've been chatting to a woman online about sex, is that it?"
"Sort of. But its been more than that.". He's not naiive, but he doesn't really spend time on the internet (I think), I don't know if he's aware of or used webcams for things other than work. "Its not like webcams or anything like that, its more that we talk about sex and then she makes me do things."
"She makes you do things??? What the fuck Sarah?! What sort of things?"
Fuck. Here is is. "I masturbate for her." I whispered, tears flowing freely down my face. "I'm sorry Paul. I haven't done it to hurt you. I love you, I just, I just". I tremored, words failing me again.
"You just what?" He said coldly, "you just decided to masturbate on the internet for everyone to see? Jesus Sarah, what if you get found out? I didn't think you were that stupid. Seriously!" He was shouting now, furious with me.
"No! Not for everyone to see, I've never done that and I never will. I've just been told what to do, and done it, but not with anyone watching".
"So what, she just sends you messages telling you to masturbate and you do it?"
"Sort of, not exactly"
"Who the fuck is she?"
"Her name is Louise and she lives in the US"
"How long has this been going on?"
"A few years"
"Years?!" he shouted. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with me? Aren't I good enough for you? Is this a prelude to you telling me you want a divorce because I'm no good and you're a lesbian now? Fucking hell!"
"no Paul, I love you, I love our family, I want to be with you, I love you so much, I don't want a divorce and I'm not a lesbian" I cried, stuttering and whimpering as I tried to talk, to explain to him."
"Then where the hell has this come from?"
I started to explain, all the time through the difficult years of our early marriage, trying to have a baby and failing, miscarriages over and over, carrying dead babies for months at a time, and all that time I was so alone, he was there, doing everything he could to help, being the perfect husband, yet I was alone, he didn't touch me, didn't kiss me, didn't make love to me, he just cared for me like I was an invalid, all that time, and it devestated me. It broke me. I was in a very dark place for a long time.
I started reading sexy stories on the internet which seemed to lift my spirits a bit, I watched a bit of porn, which wasn't my thing so much then but it was interesting and I learned more about what other people get up to, and started to discover new interests, and I started to make friends and talked about sex, my situation, and eventually I started 'playing' online, only ever text messages. I started masturbating more and it made me feel better, doing it for someone else made me feel needed and desired in a way he hadn't for years. And one woman put in more time with me than anyone else, and we became friends. At first we played with others, and I tried to be in charge of her, but eventually I realised that really what I wanted most was to submit to her.
All the while he sat, taking the occasional gulp of wine and filling up his glass when it was nearly empty. He did not fill up mine.
"so now you're a submissive lesbian?" He spat the words out, agressively
"No! please Paul, try to understand I did this because it made me feel better, it filled a gaping void in my life, it helped my depression"
"Sarah I spent every waking moment caring for you, doing everything you needed me to do, taking you to hospital, feeding you, washing you when you were too ill to do it yourself, what the fuck about that made you lonely?"
I sighed, trying through my tears to make him understand "I know you did, and I'm so grateful, and I needed you, and I still do, but under all the body horror and mess it created I'm still a woman and I have needs and I can't explain it, but even in hospital coming round after surgery I just wanted an intimate connection with you, with someone, but I think what happened broke that between us, its never been the same since".
"I love you Paul, and I'm attracted to you, but I don't feel that you're attracted to me any more, you haven't been for a long time"
"Thats not true! I am attracted to you, I had a baby with you didn't I? After all that trying I stuck with you through all of it, and we managed, finally to produce a healthy baby. How could I do that if I wasn't attracted to you?". He was looking pretty miserable himself by now, the anger had gone, for now, and he looked at me pleadingly.
"I care for you so much, I want to give you what you need, keep you safe, what more can I do?"
"I know you do darling, I know, and you have no idea how much I needed you then, and I still need you now. But I'm not your child, I'm your wife, and I need more than a full time carer, I need a lover, and I just don't think you think about me like that".
"But we have sex", he said, "I always make sure you cum before I do, I try to be considerate and make sure its not just about me"
"I know" I said, wondering how far I should pursue this line right now. "Its just it feels dutiful, like you're doing it because you think you should, not because you want to, not because you want *me*."
"I do want you!" He protested, "I love you, and I want you".
"I think you love the idea of me Paul, you love the idea of what I was when we got married, that thin girl with big tits who you couldn't believe fancied you. But I'm not that now, I'm damaged, scarred and fat, and I have needs that you don't understand, and you don't desire me the way I need you to"
"I do desire you!"
"then fuck me right now, here over the table, show me. I'm wet, ready for you, despite all this, fuck me."
"What? No! I can't, not like this, not after what you've just said". He was angry again, I wanted him to be.
"Fuck me Paul, just fuck me," I whispered, " not for my pleasure, just for yours, I don't want to cum, I don't care if its only a couple of minutes, just take me for your own selfish pleasure, show me your desire for me, please". I wiped the tears from my face and looked at him, trying not to look like I was challenging him, I wanted him to fuck me, and I was genuinely aroused despite the situation (denial will do that to a girl), but I didn't want him to do it because *I* wanted it, I wanted him to do it because *he* wanted *me*.
"I can't. Not now, its not right after an argument. And you cheated on me."
He walked out, leaving me sat by the table in tears.
I left him alone for 10 minutes then walked up stairs, finding him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. "you cheated on me" he spoke, his voice muffled through his hands. "you cheated on me with someone on the internet and now you want *her* more than you want me".
"Thats not true Paul, I want you and I need you, and I love you. I just want to feel how she makes me feel, I want to feel desired and like I'm sexually pleasing someone, giving pleasure and satisfying someone. When we have sex its feels like going through the motions but I think we lost that connection, the spark, years ago."
I sat next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. "She helped me get better darling, like a therapist might have done. I'm so sorry but I needed it, it made me better"
"I thought you just got better yourself, I thought you just needed time and space. Now you'e saying i neglected you?"
"No darling, you didn't neglect me, you cared for me and I needed that. But you cared for me like a nurse would, almost. I needed my husband too."
"why didn't you tell me?" He asked, exasperated
"I tried, over and over, I really did, but I didn't know how to explain it, I still don't darling. Its just a thing I was missing and I found it and it made me better. Its a thing I need. Along with all the other things I need, and want, from you.
"Can I show you what else I want?" I reached down, rubbing between his legs.
"No! Get off" he said angrily, pushing my hand away. I stood, then knelt on the floor in front of him.
"Baby I want your cock. I want it in my mouth right now. I want to suck your cock and I want you to cum in my mouth. I want it because I desire you, I need you". I reached towards him and started to undo his flies. He didn't stop me this time. I pulled his trousers down slowly and he shifted on the bed to let me, saying nothing. I pulled his cock out of his pants, it was starting to harden already, and I kissed the tip of it a few times before wrapping my hand round it and pumping it slowly. He rapidly got hard and I took the head in my mouth, licking the tip and listening to the occasional soft moan coming from him. I took a bit more in and started going up and down on it, slowly and gently. I can't deep throat so my blow jobs are usually gentle affairs, despite my desire to be made to choke on a cock.
I sucked and licked and kissed till I could feel him starting to get close. About the same time he put his foot between my legs and I stared humping it without even realising. This is a fairly common thing for us, but he can't be aware of the connection between humping and orgasm denial. As he got closer he pushed my head away and held my hand, gesturing for me to get up. I resisted at first, but he sat back, out of my reach and pulled me on to the bed.
"I want you to cum too" He said.
"Baby, please just let me do this for you, my pleasure right now is in pleasing you, making you feel good, its all I want. Well, I want your cum too!". I don't think I'd ever actually said that before, but it was absolutely the truth. I wanted a mouthful of it.
He stood, pulling his pants further down, and before he could sit again, I knelt up and took as much of his cock in my mouth as I could manage. He's not huge, but he's big enough, certainly for the hole he was using now. He started to thrust, then gently held my head as be began fucking my mouth. Even now he was respectful, careful not to pull my hair or make me gag. I let him do what he wanted, slowly fucking my mouth until he was close again when he whispered "I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum". I moaned in the affirmative, one hand on the floor for balance, the other between my legs, rubbing my dripping cunt through my knickers as he finally came, the cock I so badly wanted thrusting, ever gently, into my mouth as he came, the cum I so badly wanted hitting the back of my mouth, mixing with my saliva and making me want to swallow, which the moment he withdrew his cock, I did, in one mouthful, then wiped a bit of his cum from my cheek, licking it off my finger, before cleaning his cock with my tongue, like a good girl should.
I looked up, wanting to make eye contact with him but his eyes were closed, lost in the moment, so I concentrated on cleaning his cock until he sat back down on the bed, then laid back.
"what the fuck are we going to do now?" he murmoured, lying on his back while I laid next to him, my hand on his softening cock, gently playing with the base of it but staying away from the sensitive head.
"I could tell you how much I loved that, how much I love your cock, how much I want it in my mouth again when you're ready?" I said in a slightly husky voice.
"You deserve someting in return" he said, "Why don't you use one of your toys, I don't mind".
"Umm," I started, nervously, but if there was ever a time to tell him it was now. "I umm, I'm not allowed to."
"You're not allowed to?" He said sharply, "has your lesbian dominatrix banned you from using your toys?"
I felt tiny, pathetic, almost ready to cry again "no, not from using my toys, She's banned me from having orgasms..."
To be continued, if there is interest...