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Lack of communication  

Vexa_thorn 54F
3 posts
12/31/2018 12:19 pm
Lack of communication


Lack of Communication
By Lance Barret
Greg scanned the book he had just purchased as he ate lunch in the mall food court. The tome was entitled “Romanticizing Your Marriage”. It was a thin book, not too many pages. Greg was thankful for that as he had never been much of a reader. Reading bored him, but he knew things between him and Sara weren’t going right. He was driven to try and fix things before they blossomed into full-blown problems. Greg and Sara had been married for just over four years. Their time together up to this point had been marvelous. Sara was a very sexual person and during the last four years had pleased him greatly. A tall blonde with beautifully striking features, Sara was a prize for any man, and Greg knew it. During their time together, he and Sara had tried most everything. They had experimented with swinging, live video sex, even sex in dangerous places. Greg had thought their relationship solid, and had embraced every sex adventure with gusto, enjoying every second of it. It had never occurred to Greg that he might be taking advantage of Sara, until now.
Lately, Sara and he had fallen into the proverbial sexual rut. What had once been a thriving indulgence in sexual excess had slowed to becoming virtually nonexistent. Sara had been sullen and moody of late. Sex had been reduced to fifteen minutes or so, just before bed. All their partying had died out. Any attempts to revitalize it had met with stubborn resistance on Sara’s part. The entire change of attitude had come out of nowhere and had hit Greg blindside. The most recent attempt at discussion had blossomed into a full-blown shouting match. The thing that Greg had realized from the last fight was that Sara felt marginalized and she felt Greg only wanted her for the sexual things they did. After a night of intense self-examination and inner dialogue, Greg had to admit she was right. He needed to mend their relationship. Purchasing the book was a start.
Greg forced himself to begin reading. Within the first few pages he was informed about how women and men differed. The author was Prudence Wilhelm. A glance at her dust jacket photo made it clear not too many men had probably been on the receiving end of any sexual favors from her. Still, Greg needed some kind of guidance, so he trudged on through the book. He read about love languages, gift giving, flattery and acceptance. These were all the sorts of things most people knew on an instinctive level, but often needed someone to put this in perspective to make it meaningful. The words that comprised the book were well woven and soon they stoked a sense of guilt in him. Greg resolved to put the things he was learning into play and try to save his marriage.
* * *
Sara sat at her desk, perusing the book she had purchased on her lunch break. “Conjuring Your Inner Slut” was the title. The book was authored by former Adult Film star Cassandra Darke. Things between her and Greg had been bogged down of late. For reasons she was unable to fathom, she had been suffering from bouts of self-doubt and emotional turmoil. The relationship shared by her and Greg had once been so passionate. She had enjoyed the openness the excitement. She knew Greg had as well, and together they had experienced sex on a level never achieved by most couples. She had tried summoning up all the reasons to explain the rapid decline in her sexual interest, but they mostly rang hollow with her.
The truth was she didn’t feel sexy. A recent foray into swinging had triggered the whole thing, and she knew it. She had been with Greg at a party. While he chatted up prospects for the evening, she had been approached by a boorish man who was half drunk. As always, Sara had been polite. She had tried to rebuff his awkward advances with as little offence as possible. The asshole just didn’t get it. He was oblivious to her disinterest. The encounter wasn’t the catalyst; it was something he had said to her.
“You ain’t all that, but I guess you’ll do as good as any here,” he had commented.
The remark had hit her as hard as any physical blow. Sara always thought she wasn’t attractive enough. It was an inner weakness from childhood. She never felt like she was at the same level as other women. To compensate for her lack of self-confidence, she had turned to sex. Acting like a veritable had been the balm for her hidden pain. The man’s comment had instantly destroyed her self-confidence, reducing her back to that girl who never fit in as a . She hadn’t told Greg about the incident, instead she had insisted they leave the party immediately. Since then, she had avoided all partying or swinging activities. The unease she felt had grown, and nearly overwhelmed her.
She knew it had affected her interaction with Greg. Moreover, she was doing irrevocable harm to their once powerful relationship. This, she had decided, after their last fight, was going to stop. Whatever it took, she was going to fix their relationship. She thumbed through the book. Most of what it presented, she already knew. Chapters on Swinging, open marriage, porn and the like she just skimmed over. When she came to the chapter on bondage, however, she paused. BDSM was an arena she and Greg had never ventured into. She read the paragraphs carefully focusing particularly on the concepts of erotic power exchange.
Most of the bondage ideas didn’t appeal to her at all, but the information on erotic power exchange was interesting. She particularly liked the idea that engaging in this was not considered a form of humiliation, but instead a form of extreme trust. Like swinging, the trust that was inherent in allowing another person to hold sway over you, forged powerful bonds between partners. Even more, this idea opened the door to healthy shows of aggression. Couples could take out their irritation and frustrations on each other in a structured way that was sexually charged. It was a means of clearing the air that was much more productive than fighting.
Sara read the pages intently. She read about how to engage in this scenario, how to begin a session, and about guidelines for doing so. She decided this could be the answer. It might reignite her passion and allow her and Greg to bond in a deeper way than they ever had before. She smiled to herself as she began to lay the groundwork in her mind for implementation of this idea. She phoned her secretary. Sara told her she would be out for the rest of the day. Snatching up her purse and coat, she left work and proceeded to the nearest adult store she could find.
* * *
Greg clumsily carried the items he had stopped and purchased on his way home. The flowers he perched against this shoulder while he gathered the small bags he had placed in the trunk of his car. Candles, soft music CDs, wine - all the trappings of the making for a romantic dinner and evening, according to the book. He was glad to see he had beat Sara home. Now he would have the time to put his plan into action. Communication, that was the most important aspect of successful marriage, the book had told him. A candlelight dinner was just the thing to bring a couple together so as to open a dialogue. He had it all planned out. He would fix dinner; follow the books recommendations for setting the right mood. That would allow then to talk and try to discover what was needed to make their relationship solid again. He laughed to himself. Get enough wine in her; you never know what might happen.
As he juggled the burdens, he dug his keys from his jacket pocket. He didn’t think to glance through the windows of the garage where Sara had parked her car an hour earlier. He nearly dropped the roses as he slid his key into the door lock. Bracing against the door to keep from losing his purchases, he was surprised to find it already unlocked. Carefully, he eased open the door with a shoulder. He called out Sara’s name as he pushed into the house.
Partway into the living room Sara appeared so suddenly that Greg almost jumped in surprise. Sara’s long blonde hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore a faux leather bodice, with a matching lace up thong. Her legs were sheathed in thigh-high boot. She wore large hoop earrings. She had outlined her eyes with dark eyeliner and wore black lipstick. Greg’s eyes went wide as he gazed upon her unusual appearance. In one hand she bore a leather riding crop. Her left forearm was wrapped in a studded gauntlet.
“Welcome home,” she said, her voice low and menacing.
Without another word, she reached out and snatched the roses out of his hands. As if with disdain she cast then aside. She grabbed Greg by the shirt and shoved him against the wall so hard the adjacent windows actually rattled. She held him fast, staring into his eyes with a look that Greg interpreted as if she could devour his soul. For an instant, he was afraid she had been possessed.
“Let’s get the basic relationship down here,” she said. “I’m in charge. I’m going to take out all my emotional and sexual frustrations on you. Do you have a problem with that?”
Greg gulped out a no.
“Drop the bags,” Sara commanded.
“I can’t,” he replied. “There’s a breakable wine bottle.”
Sara slapped a hand with the crop.
“I said drop the bags,” she ordered.
Greg did as told. He heard the glass bottle bang against the hardwood floor, but thankfully didn’t break. Sara kicked the bags aside scattering the contents. She glanced at the items. She realized from the spilled out purchases what Greg’s intentions were and almost balked, but she had spent all afternoon psyching herself up to play this role and she was going to play it out.
“Did you think I wanted romance?” she asked.
Sara pulled Greg away from the wall and shoved him into the center of the room. The idea that Greg had been thinking exactly the opposite way as she had fueled the character she had become to play this game. Even she hadn’t expected it to overtake her as it had. All the frustrations she had felt of late came boiling to the surface. The scenario was better than she even conceived it. The lack of communication between them made her feel even more powerful as it seemed to make Greg weak by comparison. Her pussy became wet with the rush of excitement. Sara was so caught up in her role that no force on earth could stop her now.
“Pick up this mess,” she ordered, trampling roses beneath her<b> boots </font></b>as she did.
Greg bent down to retrieve the spilled items. He didn’t know what had come over his wife, but he was stunned by it. This was the last thing he had expected. Obviously the barriers of communication between them were bigger than he realized. Still seeing Sara this way, feeling the brunt of her powerful personality, the way she was dressed, it aroused him incredibly. He felt his cock go hard inside his pants.
“Not like that,” Sara said. “Do it naked.”
Greg looked incredulously at her, hesitating. Sara marched over to him and slapped him, not hard, but enough to sting his face.
“Did I stutter?” she asked. “Take your clothes off.”
Greg fumbled, but began to undress. As soon as he unfastened his pants and his erect cock popped free, Sara smiled. She could tell her act was having the desired result. She circled around behind him, put a boot against his back and pushed him down to the floor.
“Forget the mess,” she said.
Sara ground her boot into Greg’s back. He exhaled sharply from the pain that it caused him. She slid her boot down his back, the heel leaving a long red welt as she did.
“Sara, that hurts,” Greg stammered, his voice muted against the floor where she held him.
“Really,” she replied. “How much hurt do you think I felt, going to all those parties, all the clubbing, watching you fuck all those other women? How many times did I take one for the team?”
She placed the stiletto heel of her boot against his ass and let it hover there. Greg’s eyes went wide.
“Do you know how it feels to just lay there and let some guy fuck you, just so your husband can have his wife, just to make your husband happy? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”
She shoved the heel of her boot into his ass. Greg cried out at the unexpected violation.
“Sara, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t know, I thought you were into it.”
“You never thought to ask me how I felt,” she said, digging her heel deeper into him.
Greg jerked away. He found himself crawling as he spoke.
“Sara, I know I wasn’t taking your feelings into account,” he said. “I was trying to fix the problem, I swear.”
Sara caught him by the hair and snatched him so hard that he rolled over on his back. He had lost his hard on. A glint of fear was budding within him. He stared at his wife as if pleading. She pressed her boot into his flaccid cock and rubbed her heel against his balls. Greg gasped in pain. In that instant, the irritation that had been building up inside her for months softened.
“Then you’ll have tonight to make it up to me,” she said.
Sara moved away from him and sat down on the couch. Greg grimaced as he rolled over and tried to get up.
“Stay down,” Sara said.
She was actually enjoying this entire erotic power exchange thing more and more. Her mood had softened slightly, but she was still caught up in the act. The idea that she could vent all her frustrations this way appealed to her on a level heretofore unknown to her. She reveled in the feeling of having control, something she hadn’t felt since she and Greg began swinging.
“Come over here,” she said. “Crawl to me.”
Greg followed her command. He crawled over to where she sat. He stared up at her looking rather pathetic. Sara slid to the edge of the sofa took hold of Greg’s hair and shoved his face into her crotch. The sent of faux leather and the smell of her pussy began to reawaken Greg’s desire. Sara mashed the thong against him, feeling the contours of his face through the thin material. She leaned closer to him still holding his hair.
“Now lick it,” she ordered. “And you don’t stop until I am satisfied.”
This was unusual for Sara. She had never really shown much interest in oral sex, but this entire interlude had been strange so Greg complied. He reached up and drew the thong aside. Sara was a true blonde and she kept her public hair neatly trimmed, but tonight she had shaved it completely, yet another surprise to the still taken aback Greg. Having been confined inside the thong, combined with the shaving, made her pussy give off a musty aroma that Greg inhaled as his pressed in to do as he was told. A sharp pain across his back and an audible crack, caused him to hesitate. Sara wielded the leather crop.
“Not that way,” she said sharply. “Take it off.”
Greg reached up to slide the barely there panties down her long, smooth legs, but before he could do so he was on the receiving end of another strike from Sara’s crop.
“No hands,” she said. “Use your teeth.”
Greg raised his head and took hold of the thong with his mouth, tugging at the underwear. Clumsily, he managed to bring it down to her thighs. Sara raised her legs and allowed him to drag the panty down the rest of the way. Once he had managed to remove the thong, Greg again pressed his face into her moist pussy and began to lick it with slow, quick flicks of his tongue. Though he had done this a few times with other women, Greg was aware his oral skills were somewhat lacking. His only real training in the cuniligual arts was from watching porn. Sara encouraged him, guiding him to the right spot. She drew her crop across his bare back and ass, giving him light taps with it. She pressed herself hard against him as she began to squirm on her perch, making light noises of pleasure as Greg licked her slowly and deliberately.
After a few minutes, Greg became tired and slacked in his attempt to bring her to climax. As soon as Sara felt him ease off, she brought her crop down sharply on his ass, encouraging more effort. Greg’s tongue was fatigued. It had rubbed against his bottom teeth enough to make it raw, but Sara insisted on more.
“Come on Greg,” she said, rubbing her pussy hard against his face. “This is what it feels like to have someone demand you preform sexually. This is what you made me feel like every time you made me participate in all those threesomes and foursomes.”
Greg tried to apologize, even with her pressed so mightily against him. She just cut him off in mid-sentence.
“Shh…No talking,” she cooed, “just licking.”
Despite the discomfort he felt, Greg continued to work her pussy with his tongue. He heard her moan and felt her movements. Then she giggled, and threw back her head. Greg knew what that meant, she had just climaxed. Sara always giggled when she came. It was a strange reaction, but Greg had gotten used to it. Sara came off the couch and took him by the shoulders. She turned him around and pushed him down on the sofa with a grunt of exertion and sexual fervor. Kneeling down, she took his flaccid cock in her hand and enveloped it with her mouth.
Greg inhaled deeply. A blowjob from Sara was rare and usually accompanied by some degree of hesitation, but not his time. Sara plunged his cock into her mouth repeatedly, her head bobbing up and down in rhythmic movements. Immediately, Greg went from soft to rock hard. The sudden swelling of his cock in her throat made Sara gag, but she didn’t stop. Still holding his cock in her mouth, Sara reached down and unzipped the bodice she wore, tossing it aside revealing her small, but perfect breasts. She sucked him for longer than Greg had ever been orally stimulated by her before. Several times she gagged, but when Greg tried to pull back she put a restraining hand on him and continued. Finally, she came off his cock with a deep exhalation.
The gagging had stimulated her lachrymal ducts. Tears had begun to run down her face, smearing her makeup. If Greg could have read her mind at that moment he would have known that the tears were also from the release of months of pent up emotions. He saw the glimmer of sadness in her eyes and reached out to touch her face gently and reassuringly. Sara slapped his hand away. She grabbed his cock tightly and pulled him off the couch by it. She led him down the hall by it, into their bedroom. Shoving him down on the bed, Sara mounted Greg and pressed her pussy so deeply onto his engorged cock that Greg could swear he felt her uterus with it.
Sara didn’t care, with wild abandon; she bounced up and down on him. She dug her nails into his chest punctuating her wild up and down motions with cries of pleasure and small screams as her emotional flood gates burst open. When she came this time, there were no giggles, but a long scream, unlike any Greg had ever before heard her utter. Still reeling from the force of her climax, she flipped him over and grabbed his cock again, her nails biting into it. She threw her legs across his back and jerked him down into her. With the streaked, dark makeup and the almost feral look in her eyes, Greg thought she looked as if all pretense of propriety had fled her. She was a completely different woman. It brought a flush of excitement to him.
“Fuck me!” she screamed. “Fuck me like you do all those other women!”
Greg lost the last bit of restraint he had left. He too was consumed by the passionate fire that had swept over them. As he stabbed her pussy repeatedly with his aching cock, she again dug her nails into him. Her fingernails drew blood as she clawed at him, her heels gouged his ass. Greg was oblivious as all vestiges of humanity were washed away in a veritable flood of base desire. He shoved deeper and deeper into her. She screamed louder and louder as their climaxes welled up within them. Greg was breathing hard, a gray haze drifting across his field of view. Chest heaving, heart racing, he became one with his wife. He couldn’t contain it any longer. He too cried out as the release overwhelmed him.
Sara felt him gush inside her, but before she could do anything a torrent of fluid came squirting out of her like a fountain. Greg actually jumped back as she sprayed his cock and soaked the silken sheets that covered their bed. For a second they stared at one another before breaking into a fit of laughter. Sara lay amid the dampened sheets gasping in wonder at these new phenomena she had just experienced. Greg collapsed down beside her and rolled on his back. He was just beginning to feel the pain from the abrasions she had inflicted on him. He lay there beside her, also amazed at what had just happened. Mutual climax was something he had read about, but female ejaculation was something he had only seen in porno videos.Sara rolled over on him, nuzzling against his chest, laughing softly. The tension she had been hording for so long was now gone. In the accompanying post sex come down, she felt as if it was all now some distant memory, purged, gone, better forgotten. She rose up, drew his head to her and kissed his lips tenderly.
* * *
The next day Greg and Sara held hands as they walked to his car. It was nothing, a routine grocery store trip, but things had changed. For now, even the most trivial moments together had taken on new importance. Greg winced as he touched the seat and Sara noticed.
“How’s your back?” she asked, her tone slightly apologetic.
“I’ll live,” Greg said, smiling.
He leaned over and kissed her before starting the car and backing out of the driveway. Sara reached down and found the thin book Greg had purchased. She brought it out from between the seats.
“Romanticizing Your Marriage,” she read aloud. She flipped through it, grimacing at the author’s photo. “When did you get this?”
“Yesterday,” Greg replied.
Sara smiled beautifully at him. She rolled down the window and tossed the book out the window.
“We’ve got to work on our communications,” she said.

Vexa Thorn


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