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.
Tonight is my thirteenth night away from home, which also makes it my thirteenth night away from Mrs. AP. Except for that one bad stint in the hospital last year, this is the longest she and I have been unable to sleep beside each other since February, 2010. When I left for this current business trip we thought I would only be gone nine nights. Obviously that has changed. Delays for the job led to delays coming home. There’s been naught I can do about that, no matter how lonely the bed feels when I’m the only occupant.
The night before I left was also the end of our first full day home after evacuating from Hurricane Matthew — we live on the coast now, which made us a rather high target zone — and we’d had no time or privacy in which to engage in any amorous bonding while we were dodging the storm. The friends who took us in are wonderful, but we couldn’t exactly ask them if we could borrow their room and their bed for some spousal alone time. Etiquette is a real party spoiler sometimes. But hey, no damage to the house, and we saw good friends we’d missed, so I guess that’s the silver lining there, right?
Regardless, knowing I was going to be leaving and knowing we hadn’t been able to play when we’d wanted to for far too many days, even while exhausted, while Mrs. AP and I were cuddling very late into the night, and once I heard our youngest finally settle down for the night I, started caressing Mrs. AP’s delectable body in that way that very clearly broadcasts that I’d like to do more than caress.
I teased her breasts and her nipples, letting the edges of my palms just brush the edges of her areolas, and our mouths explored each other. Her tongue darted against my lips, seeking, imploring entrance, which was granted eagerly. As our tongues danced to the rhythm of our needs my hands grew more insistent, cupping her nipples and her breasts and squeezing. Gently at first, and then more firmly, my hand pulsed in time with our lips and tongues. My efforts were rewarded with her luscious nipples hardening under my ministrations, becoming firm and puckered in that way that begs for attention. With a gentle squeeze I obliged, but only momentarily before sliding my hand down her silky smooth skin and across the valley of her pubic mound before dipping between the folds of her perfection. As my middle finger slipped between her lips, it was greeted with a warm, wet welcome. The body of my wife, my lover, my beloved was entreating me to enter her. How could I decline such an enthusiastic invitation?
I came home from work with one of the most debilitating migraines I’ve had in ages. I fought through traffic and held it at bay, but by the time I walked up the stairs and through the front door Mrs. AP was able take one look at me and firmly say “I love you, go lay down in the dark.” Knowing better than to ever argue with her when she uses her Domme voice, I kissed her and made my room to comply. As I lay there trying to hide all light and sound from obliterating me into millions of pieces Mrs. AP came in and softly asked how I could help. My whimpers must have translated into something because she left the room to come back a few minutes later with Excedrin and a cold coffee blend of the various pre-made flavored coffees we keep in the fridge. She disappeared again, leaving me in silence.
On her next return she came bearing food; perfect wife that she is, she made dinner and handled the kids while I lay in the room trying not to feel like death had become me. Dutifully I ate, thankful for the mix of spices and savory elements she combined to hit every flavor element I so love. Once I finished eating I lay the plate back down and rested, eyes closed, hoping for relief.
When Mrs. AP came back in she asked if there was anything else she could do to help. I whimpered some more, to which she responded by laying next to me and cradling me, caressing my head and letting her hand wander further down my body. As she slipped a hand inside my pants she asked if there was *anything* she could do to help, and my cock rose in response. Feeling how eager my cock was to greet her Mrs. AP whispered mischievously “feels like I know just the thing.” She got up to lock the door, stripping as she rose, and in my pained stupor I somehow managed to strip so that by the time she turned around I was ready, waiting for her.
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.
The other night Mrs. AP and I were having a conversation about all the things I’ve unknowingly been repressing over this past year. To recap, this year saw Mrs. AP and I becoming legally wed, us having a daughter together, moving halfway across the state, and me narrowly dodging death by unexplainable medical means (statistically, at least). To say the least, taking care of my kinkier needs has not been one of the higher priorities, to the point where I’d been suppressing them nearly completely. Until recently.
As suppression often does to wants, needs, and kinks, I’ve been finding myself day/dreaming more often about adding somebody else to the bedroom with Mrs. AP and me. Always male. Always well endowed. Always interested in playing with us equally. Thoughts of group play and all the delicious positions in which we could engage have been growing more prevalent. I realized I craze the group aspect that we’ve not really had this year (except that one time).
As Mrs. AP and I were discussing this, I asked her if she was really okay with having a husband who craves sucking cock and watching her get fucked. Her response was “I wouldn’t have married a Bisexual man if I didn’t want the boy-on-boy love and the threesomes that come with it.” Right there, Mrs. AP reassured me that I’m not only normal but also perfectly placed with her, and that there’s none better for me. The heart swelling was nigh enough to make me burst. Luckily, all the talk of the things we could do with another male companion had me fully at the ready, so part of me was equipped TO burst.
As I rolled on top of Mrs. AP and began to slide inside her I found her already dripping. I asked if the thought of another guy joining us again got her excited; she bit her lip and nodded. I asked her is she wanted to watch him fuck my tight ass while my cock was buried inside her; she moaned and had a small orgasm. I asked if she wanted to watch his face as he came inside me, his orgasm triggering mine; she came hard, biting her lip and gripping the sheets and mattress hard. She then turned the tables, asking me if I wanted him to kneel at my head (presumably clean) so that she and I could suck him together. I nodded. She asked if I wanted him to fuck my mouth while I fucked her. I moaned and nodded again. She asked me if I wanted to make him cum down my throat.
I exploded inside her, overcome with the most intense orgasm I’ve had in months.
Clearly I’ve been suppressing a good bit. It was fantastic to get it out there, and to share it with my wonderful wife.
Now we just need somebody else with whom we can share …
Stay SINful, friends.
The other night Mrs. AP and I celebrated my birthday in spectacular fashion. Those of you out in Twitter land already heard about some of it, but for the rest of you, here’s a run down (or a marathon down?) of what happened:
Mrs. AP is always very eager to please me anytime something worth celebrating rolls around. Okay, she’s very eager to please me all the time, as am I with her, so really there’s nothing terribly new in that aspect, but birthdays in particular are extra special. Anything goes for birthdays, and this night was no exception. We started the night just holding each other and talking, all distractions like TV and phones put away and turned off. We’d not well and truly talked about how we’re doing, what we want, and how to approach those things in quite some time. The best part of our relationship is how well we communicate when we both relax and share ourselves with each other, and while we’d never lost that ability we’d been focusing on so many other things this past year that we’d let slip some of that bonding time we need.
As our talking became more pervy and kinky the conversation delved into group sex and bi-boi play and how well some of our past lovers worked with us then and could again in the future. Talking of our past lovers always gets me excited, as scenes from our adventures play out on the film screen in my mind; images of Mrs. AP sliding down the largest cock I’ve ever seen in person while I hold it in place; images of her mouth sucking on a cock so intensely that she doesn’t get any warning before it explodes in her mouth; images of her on her back being roughly fucked while my cock muffles her deep moans. I can’t help but get hard at the thought of what we’ve done and what we might do again. Mrs. AP takes great delight in this and is sure to stroke and tease my cock until the pre-cum has formed puddles on my stomach. Talk soon turned to things we’ve not yet done, in which mention of DP and DVP came up. As we were discussing the pros and cons of the lovely cocks with which these things might happen vis a vis who could actually fit in which locations, one of us made mention of having one of those lovely cocks slide inside my tight ass.
The subject had been breached, and I was feeling relaxed, confident, and aroused enough to agree, or perhaps even insist, on us breaking out the toy box and seeing just how well our collection of toys could fit inside me. After all, if I couldn’t handle being filled by imitation cock there wasn’t much likelihood of me handling a real one, and it had been quite some time since Mrs. AP had flogged me and fucked me. In a flash Mrs. AP was off to the shower — I’d showered earlier in the evening — while I prepared the room. Top sheet and comforter were moved to the end of the bed and tucked neatly into quick-pull piles in case we got cold. Pillows were arranged at the top of the bed for maximum comfort and bed space. Candles were lit. Towels were laid down. Toy box, cleaner, gloves, condoms, and baby wipes were laid out for easy access.
Mrs. AP came back into the room to find me laying naked on the bed, my cock hard and throbbing for her. Not for her and one of our lovers. Not for her and Red and Red’s new girlfriend who were sleeping in the other room. All for her and for the deliciously deep dicking she was going to give me. She put her hair up and settled down between my legs, leaning forward to give my pulsing cock a long lick and a slow suck on the head before pulling her head up slowly until I audibly popped out of her mouth. She asked me which toys I wanted, and with a quick review session of our options I chose all the “life like” toy cocks we have, all of which happen to be Vac-U-Lock compatible. Toys selected, Mrs. AP slid a glove on her left hand cleaned all the toys with the spray toy cleaner we use. Those matters settled, she wiped her gloved hand dry of the cleaner and then lubed it up, and with her right hand wrapped around my cock she began teasing my ass with her finger. Just a gentle tease at first, circling the edge of my tight little rosebud before rubbing across it lightly. Slowly she added more pressure as the tease became a massage. As I relaxed into it and felt the pressure grow from pressing to encouraging my backdoor slowly opened and invited her finger in. As she passed through the first ring of muscle I gasped. As she passed through the second ring of muscle I groaned. Oh, how I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed this. My ass was ripe for the taking, and Mrs. AP was ready to take.
Mrs. AP and I had been up half the night, and were lounging in bed naked (as we tend to do, since we sleep in the nude) looking up some things online when Our Crush came online. She and he quickly struck up a conversation, and she rolled onto her side leaning forward some to get a better angle from which to type. She did this while I was up re-arranging some clothing in the room, and I turned and saw her laying there… half displayed… right leg out straight… left leg tucked up for support… her breasts spilling forth, alight from the glow of her computer screen. I was dumbstruck, awed, and instantly aroused. I shut and locked the door and slid up the bed, straddling her leg, and snuggled in tight on her ass. I took great care to position my hips so that my throbbing cock brushed her bare pussy. She giggled and wiggled her hips against me, still typing with Our Crush. I lifted my hips and slid down ever so slightly and changed my angle, now resting the head of my cock against her moistening lips. She pushed back against me, stopped typing, and turned to look at me.
“You do realize I’m having a conversation with Our Crush, right?” she asked teasingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Oh, I know. Let’s see if you can keep that up while I have my way with you,” I replied coyly.
She paused and looked at for a moment, as if examining if I was serious or not. I met her eyes with mine, sure to let her see the playfulness and desire mingling there. She must have seen it, because she smiled, turned, and went back to typing. As her hands hit the keyboard again she quipped, “Okay, but I don’t know how well I’ll be able to do this. You tend to steal all my focus!”
She gasped her last word as I pressed the head of my cock inside her, letting it rest just inside her hot entrance. Moaning and gasping she dropped her head a moment before raising it and attempting to maintain her conversation with Our Crush. She began dropping innuendos, flirting with him as I slowly rocked my hips back and forth, sliding a fraction of an inch deeper inside her with every thrust. Every push from my hips elicited another moan and gasp from us both. In this position she was tighter than usual, with her legs pressed tightly together, so I took my time burying myself completely inside her. After a few minutes my hips could get no closer, my cock could get no deeper. We were as joined as can be, rocking together in a tight embrace as she fought valiantly to not ignore Our Crush. My hips moved slowly faster, my thrusts gaining insistence and momentum. The game now was to see how well I could distract her without building up the distraction too quickly. Her fingers struggled on the keys. Her pauses to gasp and moan became longer and more frequent. Her flirtations grew stronger. Her pussy became more wet, more hot, and more tight.
Sorry about the unannounced sabbatical there, SINful friends. It seems life decided I needed a swift kick in the pants, or to the head perhaps. Something bug-like caught me, grabbed me by the hair, and slammed my head into the pillow for most of a week. Sure, I was able to get up for work, and Mrs. AP and I made some public appearances at friend’s festivities, but by and large I have been a walking case of exhaustion staving off passing out by use of sheer will and excessive amounts of caffeine.
To wit, when I got off work for my “weekend” I proceeded to sleep for 14 hours. This without the assistance of any sleep agents. Apparently my body needed to reboot, and with it was taken the ability for me to form any sense of cognizant postings. While I wanted to write, and had things swirling in my head, I couldn’t get anything to coalesce long enough to produce anything that wasn’t drivel. Even in my head, nothing would form out of the mists that bore any resemblance to something formative. Every writer out there knows that sometimes, no matter how hard we push, the words refuse to flow. In my case, I didn’t posses the energy to push. At best, I might have tickled. There might have been a slap in there. I’m not sure.
All of this came to a full head Friday night. Mrs. AP was laying in bed looking delicious and scrumptious in her thong and tee shirt. I rolled off the bed to lock the door and buried my had between her legs, not even bothering to remove her thong yet, and licked her to the point of soaking before even bothering to lift my head. I love that moment when she soaks through her panties and I can taste her through the fabric. There’s something primal about needing her so desperately that even removing her thing takes too long.
After the Mrs. AP and I got home from our party Friday night we needed some serious reconnecting and cuddling time. We’re both a bit introverted by nature, and large parties leave us both feeling more drained than energized. Our strategy is usually to stay off to the side and really only engage with the few people we already know or to whom we are introduced. The conversations tend to get a little deeper and more involved and personal that way as well, which for us is more fulfilling. Also, it leaves us out of the way when somebody right in the middle of the crowd does something less than intelligent.
So there we were, back in our bed, snuggling against each other, chatting and … not chatting … and enjoying each other’s company. Mrs. AP hand was trailing up and down my chest and then down to my legs, where she started teasing my legs. My legs are incredibly sensitive most of the time, and tonight was no different. In short order I was twitching, gasping, and moaning under the stroke of her fingers and the light scratching of her nails. She grinned, pleased as a cat with cream, and whispered in my ear “just imagine me on one side, Our Date on the other, his hard cock pressing against your leg, as we both tease and play with your legs until you can barely breathe.”
My breath caught. All I could do was nod for a moment. The mental image of being pounced by two such lovely people was almost two much. I know my cock throbbed. Pulsed. Yearned for her touch, his touch, somebody’s touch. Mrs. AP is a sadist at times, though, and she took her time teasing my thighs and the cleft between my legs and pelvic bone. Slowly, methodically, she caressed my balls and ran her nails across them before sliding her hand up to glide her palm up my shaft. Slowing her movement she cupped her palm over the head of my now very full, very hard, very throbbing cock and slowly rotated and swirled.
After the surgery Mrs. AP had, we’re under doctor’s orders for no intercourse until she’s checked out and we’re given the blessing for all systems go. For a couple as active as we are, it’s been agonizing. It’s also led to some incredibly hot “everything but” sessions like we’re a couple of teenagers trying to get every fix we can. It’s been lots of fun and has had the added bonus of forcing us (read: Me) to talk about what we like, what we want, and so forth. We spent every day of my “weekend” off from work either talking, cuddling, or playing in every way we could. In a word, we reconnected, which we both needed. I feel refreshed and comforted, and I think she does as well. Part of the problem we’ve been having in the physical reconnecting, however, is holding to those orders from the doctor.
This “problem” — ’cause really, it’s a relatively small problem as long as intimacy is being maintained, right? — started not long after Mrs. AP gave me one of the most amazing blowjobs in the history of blowjobs. One of the immeasurably wonderful things about Mrs. AP is that she gets turned on by turning me on, so by the time I’ve begun shooting my hot cum down her throat she’s ready for me to turn her over, grab her hair, slap her ass, and fuck her so hard she screams her throat raw. Not being able to do that right now requires getting a little more… creative… in our problem solving skills. Oh, how I wish all problems required such fun ways of finding solutions!
It was one of those days today where I just didn’t want to wake up but couldn’t help feel inspired to do so anyway. How could I not? Mrs. AP was pressed into my back as my alarm went off, and all I could notice after I silenced that awful buzzing was that her breasts were full, warm, and nestles firmly against me. If that’s not the best wake-up call ever, I don’t know what is.
I rolled over to face her and we snuggled, kissing slowly, talking pillow talk, and reveling in this time that is just ours. Sure, the kids were home. Sure, the cat at the end of the bed voiced his objection to my feet moving. And, like clockwork, the puppy came bounding into the room to greet us as if we’d been gone for a week. It’s times like this I cannot help but laugh and embrace just how much better my life is now than it was 3 years ago. Back then, every day was a chore, waking up was the last thing I wanted to do, and laying in bed to snuggle with my wife was something that no longer happened. Mrs. AP makes my world brighter, and our family colors in the parts that were once drab and gray. I’m a lucky man indeed.
However, being assaulted by a hyperactive puppy that wants to assault faces, burrow under blankets, and generally pounce every bit of us that moves doesn’t allow for much in the way of romance. Really, have you ever tried to engage in a deep, soulful kiss only to have a small puppy nose trying to insert itself between the lips of you and your lover? Such a thing is neither as romantic nor arousing as it sounds. Ever. Ever the genius, Mrs. AP called Princess in and had her remove the dog and close (and lock) our door on the way out of the room. Perfect! Let the loving commence in earnest!
My brain is absolutely fried today, SINful friends, so I’m calling it in JUST a little bit by taking place in the T.M.I. Tuesday meme for the first time. I simply do not have anything rolling around in my head that can coalesce into a reasonably strong, much less entertaining post. No rants. No insights. Just white noise. Despite this, I feel the urge to write something. I need the act to help keep me feeling normalized. This, I bring you my entry for T.M.I. Tuesday.