We had a pretty laid-back weekend, and, as is Charmer’s style, that meant that we also had lots of time to flirt and play.  Again, I’ve learned new things about myself.

While we were lounging around on Saturday, for example, I found out that I have a smell when I’m denied and lookin’ for love.  What?  A smell?  Talk about giving me a complex.  She was just laying on my leg and grinning and I asked about what – she let me know.  She liked the smell.  Not like it was overwhelming (she says) or anything like that, just a pleasant sweet smell.  I told her I was just pushing out pheromones to try to entice her into bed any way I could muster.

We basically bummed around all day and did the whole mall wandering thing, grabbed a bite to eat out and had a great time just walking and talking and relaxing.  I know, sappy, but I’m constantly amazed and thankful that, even after more than 30 years together, we still can talk and talk and are so comfortable with just about any topic, anywhere.  Pretty cool.

After we got back home and were headed out to dinner, she changed to go out.  [SSC:  And “someone” figured out the lack of underwear while he was feeling up my butt.]  She had these great boots and a fantastic dress.  I even got to see leg during dinner.  I was extremely excited.

We were joking during dinner as we were flirting back and forth, and with her dress and boots, she managed to get the old stink-eye from an old dude sitting near us.  I’m pretty sure he was just jealous – his table was boring and not even talking much. We were clearly having fun and, did I mention the dress and boots?

During dinner, Charmer was goofing around and said, pretty much out of the blue, “I think we need to try the next one, or two…” and grinned at me over her drink.  I just couldn’t figure out what this was about.  I mean, I knew the general topic (she had “the look”) and I was bound and determined to figure out what she meant.  I remained clueless, for the record, right up until she got out the toys she wanted… later.  Not the brightest snake on the block.

When we decided to turn in, I was told to get the cage off and the PA ring out.  That’s a new one.  She’s never asked me to take out the ring.  I was baffled about what she had in mind.  I did as I was told and when I came out, she was sitting there, grin on her face and just patting the bed.  I sat down and she pulled out the sounds that we talked about in the prior post.  OH!  THAT 1-2 sizes up.  OH!  Wait.  2 sizes UP?  Um… But she was having none of it.  She also was not waiting.  She was prepared with the special lube everyone recommends (surgilube stuff) and the final touches to clean the sounds at the last minute (they are cleaned by me first, then kept in the case).

I literally couldn’t look.  I still have a hard time seeing a rod sliding into me.  [SSC:  From the other side of the fence, it is really hot to watch.]  I don’t have a hard time with the feeling of it, but with the thought and sight of it… yes.  So I just tried to relax, throw out a few objections that were quickly discounted due to my physical reaction to the idea.  I was standing at full attention.  I’ve since heard that it’s difficult to describe sounding – many people will fall back on “intense.”  Ironically, that’s the word I keep coming to as well.

Imagine someone playing with you from the inside.  Pushing the right buttons, completely out of your control – impaled… well, you get the idea.  When it goes in it’s actually not uncomfortable (the “drop” is the favorite thing of many that do this more often than I).  But once in, she was moving it in and out, twisting it, basically toying with me while I tried not to climb the walls and allow my brain to explode.  She also started stroking on top of this – that was a bit much after awhile, but it was the oddest feeling to have that on the outside, the sound on the inside and my brain trying to rationalize the whole thing.  Still without looking.

When she pulled out the sound, she immediately started edging me – I was still trying to get used to the sound not being there (it’s a weird thing that leaves a mental impression) and she was on a mission to edge me… a lot.  She succeeded – pushing all the way.  She even included some very intense bites and hickeys, which of course just drive me further toward the edge.  After several edges, she took me racing up to the edge and then just as she was getting ready to slow down/stop, stuck a finger in me – I lost it.  I completely didn’t expect it – and it was too late.  She ruined the orgasm.

I was getting all ready to be indignant, when she started stroking again.  In the next 3 minutes (she apparently timed it), she ruined 5 more orgasms.  I thought I was going to have a heart-attack.  I was sweating, cussing, asking her to stop, holding on for dear life to the headboard to try to control myself at least a little.  I lost that battle.  6 total ruined in less than 3 minutes.  At the surface, you think, “wow!  Sweet! How lucky!”  Yup.  I love her, but the 5 additional were clearly meant to punish a bit – she hadn’t told me it was my time to come.  It wasn’t.  It was her time to play, not my time to come.  [SSC:  And I told him that he wasn’t allowed to come.  It wasn’t a surprise.]  I paid for that with the follow-on ruined orgasms.  With the latter ones, it was beyond “uncomfortable” and touching on the realm of painful.  The quick successions were going past what I thought was actually possible for a guy.  Dunno why I thought that.  I know better now.

She wasn’t done though – she grabbed the hitachi and climbed on top of me.  I wish I could say I survived, but it wasn’t long before it was clear that I was “broken” as she likes to say.  She’s proud of the fact that she broke me.

I got to resort to other means – and was able to extend our time and help her on her way to a record setting (drum roll please) 22.  We were both pretty spent when the night was over.  We had been talking on Twitter with others about the “official” largest number of orgasms by a woman.  I think the number was in the 160’s.  We talked about the fact that, forget the number, it would just be awesome to be coming for an hour.  That night, Charmer was in the hot seat, fully engaged and either on the edge of, rapidly building up to, or in the throes of, her very own for more than an hour and 20 minutes.  [SSC:  And making it 84 for me since you’ve been able to come.  Poor baby.  🙂]

Still learning, still finding new things…