Keeping My Thoughts To Myself

Keeping My Thoughts To Myself

“Hey why don’t you try that on? I think you’d look great”

“Why should I wear that? It looks uncomfortable and besides why do women always have to wear things and do things just to make men happy. If you think it’s such a brilliant idea, you should try it”

This is a typical snippet of a normal conversation between my wife and me. We’ve had this same exchange countless times over the course of our relationship.

It all started many years ago. While many women share their time with their female friends dining out, having a few drinks, exercising together, shopping, or just chatting, my wife’s female bonding took place over leg waxing. She and a group of friends every month gathered in a friend’s apartment sipping wine and chatting while one by one they had hot molten wax applied to their legs only to then have it yanked off with thin strips of fabric. The result was a beautifully smooth hairless set of legs. After each session she would come home to show me how wonderful her legs looked without the usual nicks and cuts she would have endured if a razor was used. Inevitably she would complain about how much it hurt. As a male I thought nothing of it.

Years later while watching a cable program the hostess mentioned a nearby salon that offered women a relatively new concept to America, the “Brazilian waxing.” Inspired to learn more I looked up the cited salon to determine what it was about. Fascinated by idea, I called my wife over to read the webpage.

“You want me to do that?! That’s going to hurt a lot.”

Taking the mouse from my hand, she continued to scan through the web site finally falling upon something that piqued her interest, “the male Brazilian.” Now she was interested.

“I got a deal,” she said, “If you want me to go hairless, then you have to go hairless!”

I looked at her as if she was completely insane. There was no way anybody was going to pull the hairs off of me.

“Well if you’re not up for it, then neither am I. And besides why do women always have to dress, preen; act a certain way and give of themselves just to please men?”

With that said we both got into bed, she turned off her bedside lamp while I turned off the television and we each rolled over in different directions; back to back.

Life went on. Days came and went. My attempts of intimacy was spurned.

Finally one evening she said “you remember that show on waxing? Well I made an appointment for both of us for this weekend. If you want to chicken out fine but remember if you do, then we’ll continue with the sexual drought. Either way I’m getting it done.”

Okay. Now what was I going to do? I was so tired of jerking off in the shower. I needed some body interaction.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Well she was right! Leg hair, chest hair, back hair, arm hair, crack hair, underarm arm it was all removed. While the procedure on those areas caused discomfort there are no words to describe the pain brought upon me when my pubic hairs were forcibly torn out from my nut sack and the shaft. The mere thought of it still causes me to cringe.

But there was an up side. My hairless body was a major turn on to my wife. She played, she sucked, and she licked parts of my body she had never touched previously. As long as I continued to wax every few weeks our sex life continued to be fantastic.

A few months later we were watching another late night program featuring the self-proclaimed “go to expert” on anal pleasure. I listened and watched with great interest as she discussed various techniques that could be added to our sexual adventures; dicks, probes, dildos, tuning forks, fingers, hands, and, for the equestrian lover, a horse hair butt plug. Neigh.

“Honey…”

Before I could add another word, my wife turned her attention away from the television stating, “Don’t even think about it. There is no way in hell I’m letting you do anything with my butt. I remember years ago we tried anal sex and it hurt like hell. So forget.”

I lay there not upset that she automatically said no but that she actually remembered that I had penetrated all those years ago and she bitched like crazy. Alright I admit that we were probably high, that the only lubricant we used was basic K-Q jelly and that I wasn’t the most considerate male. But times had changed, we would be sober, I’d use one of those new ultra silky lubes designed for this sort of activity and most importantly, I’d listen to her directions to judge her level of pleasure.

“Honey…”

“No fuckin’ way. Why should I be in pain for your sexual pleasure?” She rolled over and was asleep in moments.

I turned off the TV and drifted off to sleep with images of me butt fucking her.

The next day was a beautiful spring day and as was our usual weekend activity we strolled downtown for an independent film at our favorite Lower East Side theater, followed by a leisurely dinner at a French bistro accompanied and a few cocktails; a cosmopolitan for her and, for me, a Tangeray tonic with extra lime.

As we exited the restaurant I automatically turned towards home and started walking. Soon I realized that my wife wasn’t along side me. I turned to see her walking in the opposite direction. So what else is new? Turning heel I moved quickly to catch up with her.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to look for something at Babes.”

“I thought you wanted to go home.”

“Nah I changed my mind. You can stay outside.”

Those were the magic words. Not that I hated Babes but I was so tired of her buying yet another vibrator. To her vibrators were like shoes, she could never have enough.

She ventured behind the curtained glass doors while I paced up and down the street looking at the various boutiques and eateries. I made a mental note that we needed to try the Italian tapas restaurant at the corner. Being that we would be vacationing in Rome and Florence at the end of the summer, the idea of eating more adventurous Italian cuisine was appealing.

“Ian. Ian.”

She always does that. Instead of walking in my direction, she always yells out my name to get my attention. On top of that she’s standing outside the store with its very distinctive bag. She couldn’t put the parcel in her backpack? It’s not as if they sell anything but sex related items. Does everyone need to know that she shops there?

“What did you buy?”

“Nothing”

“Oh so you bought a bag of nothing?”

“Yep”

“Well fine put the bag of nothing into the backpack so the entire city doesn’t know where you shop.”

It was a warm spring evening so we started walking uptown. After a few blocks she mentioned that the alcoholic buzz was to fading fast and she’d prefer if we’d hop a cab and go for a few nightcaps at Lukes. Now who was I to complain?

At the bar I had two strong Tangerays and I have no idea what she drank but soon she announced that she was tired and needed to go home. I paid the bill.

Once home I collapsed onto the living room sofa turning on the TV’s on-demand feature, selecting to rewatch the anal program. My wife in the meantime ventured into the bedroom where if I left her alone long enough she’d fall asleep.

“Ian”

“What?”

“Come here”

“Come on. I’m watching something. Go to sleep”

“What are you watching”

“That same show you hated last night”

“Ian, come here”

“No leave me alone”

As the words were leaving my mouth she appeared in the hallway walking towards me wearing my grey bathroom. It was a bulky Polatech garment with plenty of pockets and a matching belt and underneath I saw that she had on her pink and white flannel pajama bottoms. With the belt ti
ghtly knotted and flannels I knew immediately that I had no chance of any action that night. And besides, having just finished the two drinks I was not in any shape to do much.

“You don’t look so go
od”

“In that outfit, you shouldn’t talk”

“Come into the bedroom and I’ll give you a backrub”

“Yeah, sure. Go to bed.”

“No I mean it.”

“Will you then leave me alone?”

“Yeah”

Into the bedroom I went, stripping off my clothing as I went and onto the bed I fell with my face comfortably nestled into my feather pillow.

The next thing I knew I felt her straddling my legs and her hands were working their way up and down my back. She must have found hand cream because her fingers were moving with ease. Feeling numb my mind started to fade into sleep mode. She wasn’t so bad at backrubs after all. Hey what was that? What was she doing? Was I dreaming or were her fingers trying to enter my ass!

Struggling against her weight I rolled over and came face to face with my now naked wife. Her being naked didn’t surprise me but the blue and white stripped dildo hanging from a black leather harness completely through me for a loop.

“I may be drunk but you seem to have grown a dick.”

“You’ve watched that show twice. You said you wanted to…”

“No I didn’t. You cut me off before…”

“Well I changed my mind. And guess what? Tonight’s the night to try. So rollover and shut up and take it like you want to give it to me.”

“But…”

“Either we do it like on that show or you’re back in sexual freeze out”

Well if she put it that way. I rolled over. On TV, the anal sex expert said if done properly with plenty of lube it shouldn’t hurt. But the dick she’s wearing was longer and thicker than the ones on TV and I didn’t see any lube.

With that my legs were spread open, a cold liquid was being applied to my butt, I began to feel pressure and….shit this hurts. Now I know what it feels like. She went slowly. She went quickly. She went in deep. She went in shallow. She kept banging away at me. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. 15 minutes. Where did she get the stamina?

It seemed like an eternity and I don’t understand the logistics but she started screaming “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m…” With that she fell flat onto my back and rolled off.

“That was great.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Well I hope you enjoyed it because we’re going to do this often.”

“Excuse me don’t I have any say in the matter?”

“No. And if you say no when I said lets fuck, it will be a cold day in hell before you see this pussy again.”

Thinking quickly, I weighed the options: sexual purgatory or getting fucked in the ass, sexual purgatory or getting fucked in the ass.

“What about the waxing?”

She just nodded her head up and down.

“Well I guess I’m game for a little deviation.”

With that she closed her eyes and was quickly asleep with the dildo standing at attention.

August finally arrived as did our vacation to Italy. Rome was especially hot and humid. My wife, of course, hadn’t packed appropriately for the temperature compared to the other tourists. Most of the other women wore thin, almost, sheer cotton slacks and light tee-shirts. Being the observant male that I am, I immediately noticed that many of the women wore thongs under their garments. Even more to my pleasure most of the ladies wore no bras! Just to annoy my spouse, I made a point of pointing out the few ladies with “VPL,” visible panty lines. It was obvious that my wife wasn’t pleased with my ongoing observations. Something else I gleefully mentioned repeatedly was that for city where ladies undergarments were optional there were plenty of shops selling sexy underwear.

“Honey why don’t we get you a thong?”

“No.”

“When in Rome do as the Romans do.”

“I don’t care where the fuck we are, I find thongs to be uncomfortable. And besides why should I wear a thong because you say I should?”

“But look at how great those women’s asses look. No VPL.”

“I don’t give a crap. I’m not wearing one. So stop it!”

With that we walked on to the next sight without mentioning underwear. Though she watched as I continued to look at the numerous bouncy tits and asses passed us by.

The next day we moved onto Florence via train. She was obviously tired, hot and still pissed at me. After checking into our air conditioned hotel (a treat in parts of Italy) she announced that she wanted to nap. The expression on my face must have showed what I was thinking; an afternoon fuck.

“No I really mean a nap, not a fuck. Besides I’m still mad at you for your rudeness. So take a key and go take a walk. Be back here at 5 PM so we can decide on dinner.”

To be honest I had a great time. Though my wife likes sightseeing she doesn’t take the time to really breath in all that a city has to offer. First thing I noticed was that Florence was much cleaner than Rome. The second observation was that the public squares were full of beautiful Italian ladies. The third thing was, like in Rome, most women wore very little underwear. Lastly I happily noted that Florence had the same chain of ladies lingerie stores. All this plus museums. Now this is a great city!

The hours flew by. I gawked at Michelangelo’s “David” at the Galleria dell’ Academia, marveled at the religious excesses of Duomo, traversed the Arno River via the Ponte Vecchio only to return via the Ponte Alle Grazie and ended my afternoon with coffee at an outdoor café near the Uffizi. Of course, never once thinking of my wife. I only focused at the marvelous parade of cute woman.

At exactly 5 PM I dutifully inserted the electronic key into the lock and entered the hotel room. The room looked pretty much as I had left it with the exception of the bed which now looked slept in. From the bathroom I heard my wife turning off the blow dryer.

“How was you afternoon?”

“Fine, I walked around, saw David, went to church and had a cup of coffee. How was yours?”

“Great. Took a nap. Went around the corner and got lunch. Read the tour book. Took a shower. Your turn to shower. We have a 7 PM dinner reservation.”

Quickly I thought it’s now 5 PM. She appears to be in a good mood. She’s telling me to get undressed to take a shower. Bingo after the shower we’ll have ample time to fuck! Off went my clothing and into the shower I went. Not wishing to waste a single second of sexual activity I was out of the bathroom drying off while sitting on the edge of the bed in less than 5 minutes. Sliding my body back towards the headboard, I lay there awaiting some response from her.

No notice from her. She just continued moving about the room in a state of nakedness as if I weren’t there. Finally she reached down and pulled a purple bag from suitcase; one that I had never seen before.

“I bet you want to fuck.”

“The thought did occur to me.”

“You know I’m still mad at you?”

“Yeah but I thought…”

“We’ll fuck only if you do two things.”

My mind raced. She would never travel with her dildo just in case airport security decided to inspect her bag. So aside from that I could think of nothing so outlandish that she’d say.

“First you can’t make any comments about woman’s underwear.”

“That may to tough but doable.”

“Second we’ll have sex everyday for rest of the vacation as long as you…”

With those words she reached into the bag and pulled out the skimpiest purple thong I had ever seen.

“… wear this.”

Purple thong or daily sex? Purple thong or daily sex?

“Sold. Let’s fuck”

And fuck we did. That afternoon and that evening after dinner.

Every morning for the rest of the vacation, after I showered she’d reach into the same purple bag and pull out another purple thong. Then she’d watch me step into it, raise them up my legs and ad
just my balls. Sometimes she’d make a comment about how cute I looked in a ladies thong. Other times she’d just sit quietly as I continued to dress. Often as we walked the streets of Florence she’d squeeze my butt and comment how nice my ass
felt in her hands.

She kept her promise and we fucked everyday of our trip. Sadly it was time to go home.

New York at last. The jetlag was killing me. I barely had the energy to strip down to my thong before falling into bed.

The next morning I awoke to the gentlest of kisses on my face.

“Good morning dear.”

“What time is it?”

“7 AM.”

“Oh come on let me go back to sleep.”

“Fine but first I want you to look at this.”

Begrudgingly I opened my eyes to see my wife slowing turning at the bedside wearing a purple corset. The type you’d see on a Victorian woman on Masterpiece Theater.

“Can you tighten this?”

This being the laces running up the corset’s back. Not only was I now very much awake but so was my dick.

“Yeah sure.”

With the laces pulled tight, she turned to me so I could fully appreciate the view. Her tits were now fully encased in the garment creating the greatest cleavage I could ever imagine. With that she undid the front zipper letting it fall into her waiting hands.

“Now it’s your turn. Put it on.”

“What?”

“You want to fuck?”

“While my dick says yes, I’ll pass.”

“Too bad. I’m in the mood.”

“Put it on!”

I reached out to grab the garment and started to put it on. Even though I was lying down I had a tough time zippering up the front. Finally I got it closed and thought that this thing was very, very uncomfortable. I suddenly understood my wife’s attitude about men (myself included) dictating how women should behave and how they should dress.

I hadn’t noticed but my wife was once again standing at the bedside but this time she was clad in nothing but her harness and the blue and white dildo.

“Get on your back and grab your ankles so they’re up in the air with your legs apart.”

With that she climbed between my spread legs, moved the matching purple thong to one side and proceeded to enter me. Helplessly all I could do was look down at my hairless body, my new found male cleavage caused by the tightly laced purple corset and my smiling wife taking full advantage of my lubed ass.

Next time I think I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.