The following is a work of fiction. It is a fantasy of how I would like one lovely night in Hedonism to occur, assuming Mrs. AP and I could ever get there with the two boyfriends with whom we got along best. It contains graphic details of consensual congress between three bisexual men and one woman between in a public setting. If that suits your fancy, please come join the ride.
It was a rare night in the AbsinthePassion household; all the children were in bed and asleep before Mrs. AP and I. Considering all three of them fluctuate between day dwellers and vampires, we were exhaustedly excited to be able to get some sleep. We were also excited to be able to celebrate my birthday right as it started, shortly after midnight.
After securing the little one in her own bed elsewhere in our room, Mrs. AP and I took our nightly “help us stay asleep” meds that alleviate pain and introduce a nice lovely floaty feeling as we drift off. We have discovered a delicious other side effect of the meds is that they help us relax into and enjoy sexual matters more deeply, which I greatly appreciated when Mrs. AP reached over and started teasing her fingers up and down my chest and sides. I wiggled and giggled and moaned lightly under the masterful touch of her divine ministrations — she always knows how to hit all the right spots to render me helpless to her spell. Her touch became more focused, more insistent, and the moans grew stronger in reflection. Fingered dipped below my waist and teased hips, stroking across a pubic mound and sliding in that open space between abdomen and throbbing manhood. A light gasp of anticipation escaped my lips, which Mrs. AP notably pondered before rotating her wrist and wrapping her hand gently around my throbbing, dripping cock.
For roughly the last six hours today, while struggling through work, I have found myself craving the taste of Mrs. AP under my tongue. I love trailing my lips across her skin, exploring her lips and her neck, meandering down to her luscious breasts and erect nipples, The feeling of her nipples hardening, puckering, rising underneath my tongue and against my lips is one of the divine pleasures of being able to explore the fantastic curves of my wife’s body. Right now, though, in particular, I yearn for something very specific.
I long for running my tongue and trailing my lips down from the soft, pouty lips of Mrs. AP, caressing down her delectable neck, and into the glorious cleft of her cleavage. Downward still, strolling my tongue across the beauty of her stomach and teasing over the rise and fall of her sensuous mons pubis before spiraling slowly inward and down until my lips and tongue nestle into the perfect placement between her long, lean legs.
Oh, but to dip my tongue between her lips and gently coax them wide. Her heat, her scent, dancing across my taste buds to encourage deeper, more forceful explorations. Flattening my tongue, pressing, entering, to be greeted by the sweet taste of my beloved’s arousal. Sweet!, but not in a honey way, or even vanilla and strawberry, like most people like to use for descriptors of sexual juices. She’s more primal and raw, like what would happen if the forest and panthers and hibiscus and orchid and pomegranate and the nectar from lilies could all be blended together and then coaxed forth from within her. This! This is for what I long, and crave, and cannot shake from my mind for hours upon end today!
Oh, but I shall be home soon, and then, for all that is good and naked and wonderful in this world, will I close and lock my door, and strip my gorgeous wife bare, and explore her every twitch and tremble with my tongue until her sweet, subtle nectar becomes a flood upon my tongue and across my cheeks, and she gasps my name and grips the sheets and loses herself into the bliss of erotic release, and then! Oh, but then I will still be thirsty, and will have to drink of her some more until her crescendo repeats, again and again, until she can bear no more and must both push me away and pull me upward so that more than my tongue will slide between that velvety lips.
Soon. Soon. For my daydreams are vivid, and my need is pressing, and the memory of the taste of my wife is … sweet.
Stay SINful, friends.
This last weekend Mrs. AP and I moved from Orlando to the Atlantic Coast — specifically the Space Coast — to get away from the noise and endless bustle and draining energy of the city. Now we’re near the beach! Win for us!
We’re also (okay, more she than me at the moment) being more active on OKC and FL and starting good conversations with potential new lovers.
It’s been over 3 years since I sucked a cock, and nearly 7 since I swallowed cum that is not my own. That itch needs scratching, and soon.
More SINful stories to come! The urge, the need, to write is hitting more. Just have to finish unpacking and get over some of these work deadlines first…
Stay SINful, friends!
The other night I had a deliciously dream of debauchery. I’m sure it means my subconscious is telling me that I have needs or wants or desires that are unfulfilled, which makes since considering I’ve spent the last 18 months recovering from one medical emergency or another. This dream, however, was the most vivid a dream I think I’ve ever had. I could not only see everything, but also taste and smell and feel everything, which is perhaps the best way to have a dream that includes wanton submission to all things hedonistic. Come along for the ride, won’t you?
Red spent the weekend over for his Birthday, and he’d been joking since the week prior that one of the things he wanted for his birthday was another threesome with Mrs. AP and me — it had been some time since our last one — and as the week went by my mind kept turning more and more to both how much I love watching Mrs. AP when we have another man in our bed and also how much I miss sliding my lips down a nice hard cock and how Red has repeatedly said he needs to be “not so sober” for that to happen.
Lo and behold, during dinner Red availed himself of some recently acquired Sake to become very quickly inebriated. Aloud, my jokes and innuendos about him joining us became more obvious (to me, at least) while internally I started wondering how he’d taste, if he’d rise to the occasion, etc.. After all, I know I can be persuasive once my lips are on somebody, but I’d need his full consent for that and even drunk he might not grant that. Still, I wondered, and open flirted, and hinted, and only kept some outright comments to myself because the children were still awake and there are some invitations they just don’t need to hear. We carried on for roughly 30 minutes with our back and forth bantering and flirting until suddenly!… Red declared himself drunkenly exhausted and stumbled off to bed to sleep for 8 hours.
As I later told Mrs. AP while we were lying in bed, I was a little butt-hurt, but it was of my own making. I’d not been clear enough in my invitation, and expecting somebody else to properly interpret flirting and innuendo — particularly in an inebriated state — is unfair. It’s also not like I’ve forever ruined our chances of having another man, or specifically Red, join us in bed; he’s over all the time, plus we’re more actively looking for another lover. Just because I wasn’t able to satisfy my threesome craving right then and there doesn’t mean I won’t be able to scratch that itch later. Until then, there are plenty of other ways to meet needs, and Mrs. AP and I had some other needs that were needing met. Our talk faded into soft kisses, which slowly grew more bold and intense until our lips risked bruising from our passion. We shifted, one our sides and pressed together, so that my hand could slide down between Mrs. AP’s open legs, where I found her freshly shaven, hot, wet, and ready for me.
The following story is a work of erotic fiction; a fantasy inspired from my younger, more timid days. Feel free to skip it if such things do not appeal to your sensibilities.