Thursday, May 3, 2012

Sweetie’s Knack for Ropes Part Four: God Bless the Crotch Rope

This is the first, but hopefully not the last, piece of smut that begins: I got home from church and we had omelets. We read our books in bed for a while—me with my chick lit book and her with a scary alternate telling of the Christmas story. When we’d finished our breakfast and coffee, it was time to get started.

Probably like a lot of long-married folks, I don’t always get naked for Sweetie—I am super-averse to being chilly. But even though I’d only just turned the heat on, I drew the blinds, stood in the middle of the room, and stripped all the way down. I was cold, but a little bit of discomfort actually made me more turned on. Her hands were cold as she moved the ropes over me, as she stopped to play with my nipples a little. I squirmed and laughed and she felt aggressive, just enough more aggressive for it to be hot.

A few weeks ago at ropes class with the Gentleman, the teacher lady told us to always make sure there are knots in the “crotch rope”—“They’re gonna hit something.” she said helpfully. As she ties the crotch rope to the ropes around my waist, she tested the crotch rope for where the knot would land—right on my clit. Sweetie is a rope genius. A…smell started wafting up from me; I was so much more than ready. I looked at myself in the mirror, the first time I’d been able to do that with ropes on. She took some pictures, making me even more turned on. I had a rosy glow and so did she.

Cycles and circumstances had led her to be the less-taken-care-of of the two of us for the past few weeks, so I was determined that she would come first. I couldn’t resist climbing on, though, seeing what the crotch knot could do for the both of us.

As you know, my sex drive has been dodgy for the past few weeks, elusive, bound up in fear and sadness, but as I placed that knot between us, I felt slutty doors open in my heart and brazen sunlight shine in. It wasn’t just our relationship that was shining, but my relationship to everything. I was ready to open up again.

I played roughly with her breasts, the way I love feeling guys do. She has very pretty boobs, pale and almost as big as mine, but with little delicate-looking nipples. They only look delicate, though, she likes them pulled and pinched and bit and I let the aggression out on them, enough to bruise a little.

I hung my breast down into her mouth and she sucked, playing with the other one. All the while I was moving on top of her, any more and she wouldn’t’ve been the first to come. I backed up and played with her a little, she felt so good, a few weeks away is way too long. I was so glad to be back there, slick, warm, and in love. I pushed my fingers inside her and she moaned. I grit my teeth, bore down, and fucked her as hard as I could, kissed her, felt like we were the sex goddesses of my dreams. She felt so good, her skin glowed pink with happiness, she looked (like she always does) like an angel.

I got a little cramp in my leg and climbed down, lay by her side and finished her off. Then it was my turn. I didn’t want it to be over too soon, so I asked her to concentrate on my nipples, she pinched them gently in rhythm, rubbed, played, and kissed them. As she played up top, she ran her arm under the top of the crotch rope so that it pulled hard into my butt cracks and the knot worked my clit. I could feel everything at once. I came, loud and jubilant.

I wanted to just turn over and spoon, but I had to get up for her to take the ropes off. As we snuggled down into spooning, I didn’t drift off the way I usually do. I felt energized, inspired.

A little while later, we got up and drove to the nature center for a walk. It was a perfect spring day that smelled like wisteria. There was an art installation in the woods—someone had knitted cozies for the trees. We sat on a sunny bench and birdwatched. There weren’t too many, but we did see a tufted titmouse. We started to feel like we just might make it.

***Writing this down in my notebook this morning made me so turned on that I had to take some, as we call it in our house, “personal time” before I went to my Environmental Conservation final. Lots of fantasies I’d been afraid to look at, about her and others, came rushing back and I just had the best time. I felt back to being an adorable unicorn again. I’d been worried that my project wasn’t getting anywhere, but this feels like a breakthrough. ***

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