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2011-04-12
Sore Ribs
by Conrad Grossman
Copyright 2011
Chapter 1
The day started like just about any other day. No scratch that. . .
The day started much like the day prior. Minus an overheating car, and a missed trip to the airport for an earlier morning plane ride to visit, and work with, my parents. So maybe it wasn’t exactly the same as the day before, but it was close.
I awoke early, 3:30am to be exact, to the blaring of my alarm clock. I had tossed and turned all night. It was a rest full tossing, but an unneeded one. The day ahead was to be a long one. Having failed to rush the previous morning, I tried to quicken the pace to be out the door on time. First I must get the coffee ready, second a quick shower with the wife; no time to waste excessively rubbing her body in the shower, third prepare breakfast (an easy task as it was purchased the afternoon before), the luggage was already in the car so no need to worry about that, the pets were fed. . .
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out the door in a half hour, perfect.
The drive wasn’t anything to write about. The wife was tired, not having as restful of a sleep as I, she asked to nap on the way. She had a hard day yesterday, it was only fair I allow her to rest. I needed her conversation to keep me awake on the drive, but I figured I could manage. The coffee and my early morning boost from my medication were enough to get me going. Around a third of the way to the airport my brain started slowing down. Lines were a challenge to maintain, the car went from fast to slow, the music although loud wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping me stimulated. I drove through towns I had driven through many times before, in my tiredness I was lost and confused.
“Is this Woodburn?” I would ask myself.
“I don’t remember this part of the shopping center,” I wondered “there is no way I could be driving south. ”
Passing by a familiar landmark, my confusion faded and I was again awake for the rest of the drive. Shortly thereafter I arrived at the unloading zone. Leaving my car, and my wife’s soft lips, I set out to travel.
The airport wasn’t anymore understandable.
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Tiredness was starting to catch up. I pushed through the unnecessary double check-in, dragged my feet through security, and made it to my gate. I had time to kill, so I listened to some music, and read a few chapters in a new book.
I shifted in my chair and noticed a sharp pain in my side. Did I eat something bad? Did I run into something this morning in my rushing out the door? Why were my ribs so sore?
I ran my fingers along my side, feeling each bone looking for the source of the pain. The bottom three ribs on my right were tender to the touch.
“Did I somehow break something?” I imagined.
It was unlikely, I hadn’t done anything in the night before to leave damage. I needed to figure out what had happened.
Chapter 2
Saturday morning I woke up to the sound of my alarm. At 5:00am I wasn’t prepared for it. We had tried to get to bed early the night before, but instead discussed my fears of losing the wife I loved so dearly. Our relationship isn’t on rocky ground, but some day the impotence of my medication may drive her far from my arms, seeking the ability to please another as she used to please me.
We were slow the get out the door, each of us dragging our feet through each step. Make some coffee, take extra time in the shower (those boobs look like they need extra attention.
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. . ), make breakfast, take out the dog, feed the cat, load up the car, look at the clock. . . . oh shit! We need to leave now!
We didn’t make it very far, we drove to the next town over to get gas and noticed the check engine light, and a few of its friends, had decided to turn on. We pulled into a gas station, just as a plume of white smoke erupted from the hood. It didn’t appear we needed to get gas. A tow home, and I had missed my flight. I called the airline, only to be told that I would have to do this all again tomorrow, for there was nothing available this afternoon or evening.
Taking advantage of an unlucky situation, the wife and I went to the store and stocked the fridge with all the foods she has missed, due to my diet restrictions. Mini ice cream cones, hummus and pita, food that leave her breath unkissable, soy sauce, etc. . .
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everything I have been avoiding for the past few months.
She was set for the next few weeks.
A couple more stops and our errands were done.
Chapter 3
The sex was incredible. She got incredibly high, I watched as she took in each drag. I wasn’t going on a journey today, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get to. With her final toke, she pulled the smoke into her mouth, as she inhaled she took my cock deep into her mouth.
The image, and sensation were just what I had needed. We curled into a ball of oral passion. Her sucking my cock, with long deep strokes. Me licking her pussy as it dripped with intoxication. She needed something deep inside of her, but she wasn’t going to get my cock this soon.
Digging through the toy box I pulled out her brand new toys, we purchased them that afternoon so she could take care of herself while I was away, two large rubber cocks. I slid the first in slowly, popping the head past her g-spot as she arched back in pleasure. With each stroke the toy became wetter and wetter with her juices.
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I was getting very turned on. In a burst of pleasure I began to fuck her face, faster than I had ever done before. She took every inch, and ever thrust, like the good little slave that she is. Looking in the mirror as my cock thrust in and out of her deep throat, the toy deep in her pussy, I watched as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
She needed more, and again wanted my cock. I couldn’t allow her to get what she wanted too easily. Again I dug through the toy box as she slowly sucked on my balls, and nibbled my perineum (a sensation that is almost unbearably fantastic). I found the object she would need to be filled with pleasure. Her favorite little vibrator pressed against her soaking clit and pussy lips. The vibrations filled her to the core as she moaning and wiggled beside me.
But why were my ribs sore? This train of though wasn’t getting me anywhere. Let’s start from the end.
Chapter 4
We got home exhausted from a very long day. Between the failed trip to the airport, the afternoon shopping, mid day play, and evening activities we barely had any energy to speak of. I had had a small boost of energy from a fabulous dessert at dinner, and needed my cock to be sucked.
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I didn’t know if I would be able to cum, but I had to try.
A new toy had arrived in the mail for me that afternoon, a new cock ring with extra vibrations. I wiggled it onto my dry cock. Why I didn’t lubricate, I’m not sure, but I eventually got it into place. My testicles kept trying to escape as I waited for my wife to get out of the restroom to see the magnificence waiting for her on the bed.
My cock was rock hard, tingling, and waiting impatiently for her warm mouth. She took her time getting to bed, she’ll have to be punished when I get home from my time away. My cock slid easily into her mouth. The ring creating a deep tingle as she sucked him deep onto the back of her tongue. The vibrations carried themselves through her lips and fingers. It felt amazing.
Taking my cock from her mouth she grabbed the shaft and slowly stroked it as she took each ball into her mouth with a light suck. Pop, in goes one, pop, in goes the other. The vibrations carry into each testicles through her tongue and lips. I have trouble keeping my balance on my knees, as I straddle her face.
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“Bite my perineum!” I demand.
“Yes, Master,” she moans.
Her teeth press firmly on my skin; I am in heaven. With each stroke of her fist over the head of my cock, and down my shaft, I shake with delight. I won’t be cumming tonight, but it will have been worth the effort.
Chapter 5
We had been planning on meeting friends for dinner, but they had decided they would argue about money instead. We were lucky they had bailed, it gave us the perfect opportunity to eat a lovely meal together.
My wife was instructed to wear her ben-wa balls while we were out. She wore a short turtle neck dress, animal printed underwear, black stocking, a cute necklace, and “fuck me” suede boots, that accentuated her beautiful figure. I wore a t-shirt and pants, stained with her pussy juices along the zipper line. She smelled of sex, and new lip gloss. She was exquisite.
The meal was delicious. A Latin fare that left us wanting more. Each bite was better than the last.
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We had planned to eat elsewhere, thankfully they were full. This meal was a perfect way to end a perfect day.
The dessert was one of the best in town, the atmosphere was romantic, it was truly perfect for the day we had built from failure.
Prior to dinner we had spent hours fucking. Position after position, I slid deep inside of her. She was instructed to look deep into her own eyes, in the mirror, as my cock slammed into her from behind. She looked amazing. Her pussy was to be sore for the three weeks I would be absent. No one else would be sticking anything inside, without her squirming away from the bruises I had left deep inside her pussy. She loved every hour of it.
She was instructed many times to get higher and higher, I wanted her pussy soaking the bed beneath us. I wanted her juiced coating my thighs, my fingers, my tongue. I wanted each toy I slid deep inside of her glide effortlessly as I fucked her hard and fast with each one. I wanted her to know she was mine, and only mine. She was to be left in a heap of ecstasy, playing the day over and over again throughout the week.
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I had to tell her how dirty she was. Make her feel hot, sexy, and slutty. She is my little cock whore, and she better know that men everywhere want to pounce her as she comes by. I whispered into her ear about men using her in clubs, filling each of her holes with their cocks; cum dripping from every orifice. The women in the club starring in frustration and jealousy as she took all of their men from them. Each of them wanted what was hidden under her tight dress. The wished they could wring the cum from men as she does with her tight holes, and beautiful mouth. They wanted the power she has as the best sex slave in town.
She is a dirty girl, and she knows it. Her pleasure, and pain make men weak. Women want to be her, they want to hate her, and they want to fuck her. Men go home and fuck their girlfriends, and themselves thinking about her hot ass; her perfect tits, and those small little lips. She is raw sex personified, and she knows it. Her slavery is special, her Master must own her, must make her cum. Must make her writhe with pleasure.
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She is the Master of her Master, she makes him her slave to her orgasm.
Dirty girls need to get clean eventually. A warm bubble bath, and a hard cock behind her, my wife slid into the tub. As I poured water over her cold body, her nipples became erect with pleasure, her body was slick to the touch, and her pussy was wetter than ever.
Now she could cum. Not when she was getting fucked by my hard cock, not when her toys were being slammed deep into her pussy, not as the vibrator was pushing hard on her clit, and especially not when she was sucking my dick. Only now, in the warm suds of the bath, would she be allowed to cum. Grabbing the toy from the shelf in the shower, she proceed to rub and fuck herself. I glided my hands across her bare chest, grabbed the shampoo and massaged her scalp as she came pressing her body into my lap, and her head into my hands.
She lay there, in the warm water, shivering with delight. She needed to cum, and I finally had given her the permission she needed. She had been a good girl, she had done as she was told, and she was beautiful for doing it.
Chapter 6
Was I sore from an extended fuck session. Or had she hit me in my sleep. Did I clumsily run into something during our day out on the town.
I couldn’t figure it out.
Each time I tried to remember, I would get stuck imagining the fuck session we had had the day before. It was all consuming. We were deeply connected for hours, even now I get hard thinking about it. And again I get lost, not caring about my ribs, and why they are sore, and instead focusing on the fantastic day we had, all because I missed my flight.
We have the best days when things go wrong. What would stress most couples out, seems to always bring us together. We are stronger than others for it, our relationship will grow. Sex and fucking only gets better with every slide of my cock across her skin; and every glide of her pussy and mouth across mine. We are dirty, we are clean, we are in love. And my ribs hurt because of it.
Epilogue
It took me a long time to pin point exactly what caused my ribs to become bruised. I thought maybe my wife had punched, or kicked me in our sleep. Or that we had tried some complicated sex thing that involved a bit of pain. In reality it wasn’t anything as kinky, or sleep induced as that.
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It turns out that when you are fucking your wife’s face, and she has her legs wrapped around your torso as you lick furiously across her clit, sliding a toy in and out of her warm pussy, that you end up with bruised ribs from her squeezing you with joy.
Maybe it was a little kinky, but it is also a much shorter story. It is still incredibly hot, much like my wife. The woman you want to be, you want to love, you want to hate, and you wish you could fuck. .
