Sweetness & Blight

Chapter One-4

Reverting to this dynamic is not only more satisfactory for Amelia, it is far more arousing for me as well. Getting to watch her breasts fly about and enjoy that raving eye contact while she so vigorously uses me is more arousing than ever after being denied this for a while. And having my hands restrained rather than my legs is orders of magnitude more perversely thrilling while allowing these latter to again creep together regardless of my conscious attempt to resist this. Unfortunately my madly climbing excitement can’t be denied forever. After being f****d for well more than an hour in total my exhaustion is exceeded only by my carnal need. Despite my best efforts holding back eventually becomes a lost cause. With Amelia breathlessly and manically pursuing a fifth orgasm of the evening I finally find myself with legs pressed together, hips straining skyward and crying out helplessly as my insanely urgent c**k spasms inside her. Writhing mindlessly I gasp and shudder and pump and spit those few scanty drops into the protective condom. Then I collapse limp from head to toe, praying that my insatiable wife finds this ridiculously extended s****l extravaganza acceptable.

Fat chance: feeling me finish Amelia’s eyes go from gas-flame blue to incendiary anger to ice-cold reproach. Still she remains scrupulously polite and mildly soft-spoken, expressing only rueful disappointment as she climbs off me.

“You couldn’t hold out for five more minutes could you, darling? I was getting close again. Maybe I should take to tying your legs to the foot-posts of the bed. That might keep you from coming until I’m ready. Oh well.”

Already Amelia is moving to the bed-table where she keeps ‘Mr. Mechanical’ a truly enormous vibrator. I know what’s coming now, and with my physical and emotional resources so depleted have to bite my lip to suppress a sob of dismay.

“Would you mind sleeping in the guest wing again, darling? I hate to banish you from my bed, but it really is your fault that I need to be alone now.”

I have no idea if Amelia understands (or cares) how badly she’s wounding me.

In addition to the shattering blow to my already profoundly undermined ego, being exiled to another part of the house for my failure denies me the cherished bliss of sleeping if not in her arms, at least under the same covers. I’d almost prefer to bed down on the carpet outside the bedroom door than in one of the guest suites regardless of how sumptuous they are. Even being that much nearer to her (and demonstrating my contrition with such a cold and uncomfortable vigil) would salve the hurt I feel. But it would also torture my ego even more to listen to Amelia shrieking her way through several additional orgasms, orgasms that are clearly far more satisfying than anything I’ve ever been able to provide her with. The one time I did sneak back to listen was so deeply shaming that I had to slink away again within minutes. Now I don’t even bother to respond – not that that matters. Sweetly oblivious Amelia has already dismissed me from awareness. Fighting back tears I strip off the condom and seal it in a baggie as per standing orders before throwing it away. Then I quietly gather up my clothes, dump them down the chute in the bathroom and leave without a fuss.

Walking naked and heavy-hearted through the house I go to my lonely bed feeling as oddly unfulfilled as my wife must be despite my two incredible orgasms and the lavish fix for my submission addiction I just enjoyed. Less than a month into marriage and our amazingly intense s*x life is already somehow proving unsatisfying.

A bit of resentment creeps into my thoughts at this.

What does Amelia want from me? She expects too much; that’s all there is to it. Clearly her dildo-wielding girlfriends have spoiled her for normal heterosexual s*x. Yet how is that my fault? The injustice of this makes my tears spill over at last. Still I find it impossible to be truly mad at her. Instead I choose to compound the injustice by berating my own inadequacy. I must simply find a way to do better, that’s all. It’s the least she deserves for marrying me.