admin
20 Temmuz 2022, 23:50
II.
I pulled into my driveway at home. My neck had become stiff during the ride, and I tried to twist and stretch for some relief. My neck was sore - my wrist just hurt. I looked at it, and there was a profound circular bruise encompassing it. I still couldn't get over what had happened. Moreover, I couldn't believe how strong that little girl was and how utterly defenseless I had been. Set aside the ridiculous sexual aggression, that I couldn't escape it scared me a little. I knew something of what had been going on with women since "the change", but this was nothing like what I'd come to expect. I meant; Nadia didn't display that kind of muscle power nor did she seem so insatiable. She certainly hadn't displayed that kind of raw strength despite being taller, more athletically built, and having a good thirty or more pounds on Becky.
Nadia's car was in the driveway. She had worked from home today, I recalled. Usually, that was something I loved, because it meant an afternoon tryst in the bedroom in addition to our nightly romp. I didn't think much of it at the time apart from that I might be the luckiest guy in the world. My wife was a fit thirty. She stood 5'11" - over six feet in the heels she loved to wear because they made her toned legs and fit round ass look amazing. That she towered over me in them was more a source of humor for both of us than a matter of insecurity. She had a washboard of abs thanks to a lifetime of athletics and a pair of C-cup breasts that defied gravity. Her light brown hair went past her toned shoulders and fell on the softest lightly tanned skin I'd ever known. Her deep brown eyes always lit up when she saw me. She was a successful engineer with a quick wit and moreover, she loved me like no person ever had. I loved her as much. She'd been my world since grad school and my everything since my academic career fell apart and we'd moved here away from friends and family.
Then there was the sex.
We'd always had a good, active, sex life. (I mean, look at her, right?) We'd been married five years, and, in the last year, running counter to the usual trend, the tempo of our physical relationship picked up. We had nearly nightly sex, with added afternoon goes when time allowed. This augmented by weekend wake-up sex, shared showers a few times a week, rounded out with the occasion cuddle sessions that usually led to mutual masturbation or oral pleasurings. I was a lucky, if sometimes sleep-deprived guy.
I rubbed my neck one more time, flexed my aching wrist, and got out of the car. It had been a bizarre turn of events, and I was still processing it as I entered the house. Nadia met me in the foyer clad in her normal "work at home uniform" - a royal blue sports bra (like those babies needed support), pair of stretchy black yoga pants (gawd that ass), and a pair of chunky soled workout shoes that gave her another inch on me she didn't need but loved to have. She tossed her ponytail around and gave me the usual joking bear hug welcome. I winced in pain as she squeezed.
Nadia sensed something was wrong, loosened her hug, bahis siteleri (http://www.pongp.com/) and stepped back. "Good lord, what happened to you? Where you in a wreck? What happened to your neck?" I was becoming aware of redness around my neck where it met my shoulder that was starting to become another bruise. "And your wrist?", she continued, "Is it broken. Do we need to get you to the hospital?"
I didn't know what to say. How was I going to explain that I'd been assaulted by a little teen girl? There was no way Nadia would believe it possible - or even credible - that a skinny teen girl had used me to pleasure herself. That the same girl locked me in a steely grip that I couldn't break with all my effort. My head was spinning. And everything came crashing down. I sat on the living room couch, with Nadia holding me as everything came gushing out in a torrent of sobbing words and tears. When I finally finished and gathered myself, I braced for Nadia's incredulous response.
It didn't go like I thought it would.
"I was worried something like this might happen. I should have warned you. There's no way you might have known this could happen. I mean, we hardly know anyone in this town, so, how could you? And with how I've been holding back to protect you, there's just no way.?" Nadia said, trying to comfort me.
"What are you talking about?", I asked, "and what do you even mean 'holding back'? Protecting me from what?"
"I just don't think you've had a chance to grasp how much things have changed", she started. "We haven't had much of a social life here, so I hadn't worried. You're going to need to start being more careful around women, and I guess, girls.", she paused seeing my incomprehension.
"Careful?", I responded incredulously, "Careful that I'm going to be assaulted by random girls and women on the street? I think this is just crazy. Surely, you all haven't become sexually insatiable superwomen. If that's the case, why haven't there been women arrested?"
Nadia rolled her eyes, "So your plan was to call the police and tell them a teen girl tried to rape you?"
She was right. My male ego was as fragile as any guy's. This story wasn't going any further than our living room. It was an absolute certainty that my plan for Becky's Monday AP Physics class would be to try to avoid eye contact and act like nothing happened. "I wasn't raped" I muttered feebly.
"Because you got away. Trust me, that little minx wanted you inside her. She probably went home and Jilled herself off for an hour or waited for some unsuspecting football player to finish practice and threw him around a few times." She could see the hurt on my face as she finished. It wasn't her intention, but she seemed to obviously knew something of Becky's drives. Then it began to dawn on me.
"Are you - are you saying you are like this too? You can't be serious. You're not some insatiable sexual dynamo." I said standing to emphasize my point. "I mean, we have a lot of great sex, but you aren't pulling guys off the street and screwing their brains out. And, while, my dear, you are built like a brick house, canlı bahis siteleri (http://www.pongp.com/) you're not bending bars or anything. This is some kind of -"
I was cut off. Moving faster than I could register in my brain, Nadia had crossed from her seat on the couch, clasped her hand across my mouth, and pressed me against the far wall; my feet touching the floor maybe once on the way there. I grasped her wrist first with one hand then with both of mine but found I couldn't budge her hand. I struggled to push her away, but that was also fruitless. "Are you sure about that?", she smiled that mischievous grin that I fell I love with. She pressed forward a bit, pushing herself against me and me against the wall. I struggled to breathe as my soft flesh yielded to her steely muscular frame.
"Mmef me gnnnn", I struggled to get out. "Es cnt bfff"
"Was that, 'Ok, dear, I'm ready to listen, and thank you for protecting my delicate male ego and not breaking every fragile bone in my weak pathetic body every time I've angered you for the last year or two'?" She laughed. "No, okay then." She started to press forward more.
"Uhkey, Uhkey," I gasped, signaling my "willingness" to listen.
She moved her hand off my mouth, stepped back, and caught me as I started to collapse. She eased me over to the couch and went to the kitchen. She returned with an ice pack, a bottle of water, and some Advil. I put the ice pack on my now screaming neck/shoulder and took the Advil.
"I've wanted to talk to you about this for a while", she began. "At first I thought it was just me, but, then it became clear it was pretty much all biological women." I raised an eyebrow. "Women talk to each other when something is up with our bodies, honey. I know men would rather die than do that, but women do." She put her arm around me. "I should have known, as randy as the women at the gym are, that some inexperienced hormonal girl wouldn't be able to control herself."
The gym. "You started going to the gym without me. That's part of this, isn't it?" I asked.
"Well, I realized I could hold back in the bedroom, but couldn't really exert myself and still keep this under raps." She smiled. "Today, I was benching 600lbs for reps. No way to be subtle about that."
"Six - six hundred pounds?!" The numbers in my head telling me that was somewhere well north of the world record max lift for man her size. "Is there anything else?" I asked, hoping there wasn't
She started, "Well, you usually go to sleep, so you probably haven't noticed I don't go right to bed after we have sex. I just don't tire out very easily. A couple of days ago, I went out to try running a 10k practice. I ran an even 24 minutes - beating the men's world record by more than a minute. And then..."
I interpreted, "And then you went and ate three bulldozers."
"No", she replied sternly, "Then I went and masturbated for an hour. I came, like, ten times."
I was floored. "But, but we have sex all the time." I was near collapse at this point.
"I know", she said, "And it's really good sex, but I have to hold back canlı bahis (http://www.pongp.com/) because I'm afraid I might hurt you. And, well, I need a lot more." She went to our bedroom and brought back a box "Look", she told me, opening the lid.
The box was an assortment of dildos and vibrators of various sizes ranging from about the same size as my dick up to some that were impressively - almost comedically - large. They were in various states of disrepair a couple were broken in two. One was bent over nearly double. Another, this one a gleaming stainless-steel model, was, no shit, dented and crinkled. I started to get the picture. "You use these a lot", I said to no one in particular,
"Every night, after you go to bed." She was getting teary.
"But we have sex nearly every night. You can't tell me you faked orgasm every night for over a year." I was getting irritated. I never wanted anything more out our lovemaking than to please her. I couldn't care less about my sense of sexual prowess. If she was faking, I wanted to know, so I could try harder.
"No. I just couldn't let myself go." She was crying now. "I came, mildly, nearly every time, but had to hold back. And...", she was nearly sobbing, "It was just never enough. I wanted it to be, but I needed more. I got those, because I was worried I would end up cheating on you. A lot of the girls at the gym end up with each other because their men can't take them. I just wanted to be only with you." The tears were flowing fully, "I'm so sorry!!" She raged, slamming her fist down on an oaken end table, shattering it.
"Stop. Stop." I was crying too. Part out of sorrow that I hadn't been able to give her what she needed, part out of gratitude for all that she'd done to shield me, but also out of fear. Her outburst and display of destructive power scared me. For the third time today, I was worried that a girl was going to break me physically. It was not a good feeling. Also, looking at the smashed end table, a lot of little things over the last year popped into my head. The crumple car hood from when she "hit a deer" that left no blood or fur on the car. The bent metal faucet in the basement. The (gulp) hole our concrete block backyard retaining wall that "appeared" after she went out outside following a fight we had last Summer.
"Look", I said, "You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, I should be crying for your forgiveness. And I should be thanking you. You felt, for whatever reason, that you needed to keep this from me for my own good. And you took on this burden of meeting your own needs. I would have been devastated if you'd gone off with someone else. Now I was hugging her.
And then I did a dumb thing.
"Holding yourself back is stupid. And not being satisfied is dumb." I said getting completely over my skies. "I don't want you to ever leave our bed wanting again. I want you to let go. From now on, we have sex until you are satisfied. I'm not done until you are done." I was as chest-puffed-out as a 150-pound man with a stiff neck, sprained wrist, and, small inhale, some bruised ribs could be.
"You are so cute when you're faking being brave." Nadia giggled, the tears waning. She pulled me in tightly, just hard enough to make me doubt my promise. She kissed me deeply and passionately. I wasn't faking. But, sometimes, bravery isn't enough.
I pulled into my driveway at home. My neck had become stiff during the ride, and I tried to twist and stretch for some relief. My neck was sore - my wrist just hurt. I looked at it, and there was a profound circular bruise encompassing it. I still couldn't get over what had happened. Moreover, I couldn't believe how strong that little girl was and how utterly defenseless I had been. Set aside the ridiculous sexual aggression, that I couldn't escape it scared me a little. I knew something of what had been going on with women since "the change", but this was nothing like what I'd come to expect. I meant; Nadia didn't display that kind of muscle power nor did she seem so insatiable. She certainly hadn't displayed that kind of raw strength despite being taller, more athletically built, and having a good thirty or more pounds on Becky.
Nadia's car was in the driveway. She had worked from home today, I recalled. Usually, that was something I loved, because it meant an afternoon tryst in the bedroom in addition to our nightly romp. I didn't think much of it at the time apart from that I might be the luckiest guy in the world. My wife was a fit thirty. She stood 5'11" - over six feet in the heels she loved to wear because they made her toned legs and fit round ass look amazing. That she towered over me in them was more a source of humor for both of us than a matter of insecurity. She had a washboard of abs thanks to a lifetime of athletics and a pair of C-cup breasts that defied gravity. Her light brown hair went past her toned shoulders and fell on the softest lightly tanned skin I'd ever known. Her deep brown eyes always lit up when she saw me. She was a successful engineer with a quick wit and moreover, she loved me like no person ever had. I loved her as much. She'd been my world since grad school and my everything since my academic career fell apart and we'd moved here away from friends and family.
Then there was the sex.
We'd always had a good, active, sex life. (I mean, look at her, right?) We'd been married five years, and, in the last year, running counter to the usual trend, the tempo of our physical relationship picked up. We had nearly nightly sex, with added afternoon goes when time allowed. This augmented by weekend wake-up sex, shared showers a few times a week, rounded out with the occasion cuddle sessions that usually led to mutual masturbation or oral pleasurings. I was a lucky, if sometimes sleep-deprived guy.
I rubbed my neck one more time, flexed my aching wrist, and got out of the car. It had been a bizarre turn of events, and I was still processing it as I entered the house. Nadia met me in the foyer clad in her normal "work at home uniform" - a royal blue sports bra (like those babies needed support), pair of stretchy black yoga pants (gawd that ass), and a pair of chunky soled workout shoes that gave her another inch on me she didn't need but loved to have. She tossed her ponytail around and gave me the usual joking bear hug welcome. I winced in pain as she squeezed.
Nadia sensed something was wrong, loosened her hug, bahis siteleri (http://www.pongp.com/) and stepped back. "Good lord, what happened to you? Where you in a wreck? What happened to your neck?" I was becoming aware of redness around my neck where it met my shoulder that was starting to become another bruise. "And your wrist?", she continued, "Is it broken. Do we need to get you to the hospital?"
I didn't know what to say. How was I going to explain that I'd been assaulted by a little teen girl? There was no way Nadia would believe it possible - or even credible - that a skinny teen girl had used me to pleasure herself. That the same girl locked me in a steely grip that I couldn't break with all my effort. My head was spinning. And everything came crashing down. I sat on the living room couch, with Nadia holding me as everything came gushing out in a torrent of sobbing words and tears. When I finally finished and gathered myself, I braced for Nadia's incredulous response.
It didn't go like I thought it would.
"I was worried something like this might happen. I should have warned you. There's no way you might have known this could happen. I mean, we hardly know anyone in this town, so, how could you? And with how I've been holding back to protect you, there's just no way.?" Nadia said, trying to comfort me.
"What are you talking about?", I asked, "and what do you even mean 'holding back'? Protecting me from what?"
"I just don't think you've had a chance to grasp how much things have changed", she started. "We haven't had much of a social life here, so I hadn't worried. You're going to need to start being more careful around women, and I guess, girls.", she paused seeing my incomprehension.
"Careful?", I responded incredulously, "Careful that I'm going to be assaulted by random girls and women on the street? I think this is just crazy. Surely, you all haven't become sexually insatiable superwomen. If that's the case, why haven't there been women arrested?"
Nadia rolled her eyes, "So your plan was to call the police and tell them a teen girl tried to rape you?"
She was right. My male ego was as fragile as any guy's. This story wasn't going any further than our living room. It was an absolute certainty that my plan for Becky's Monday AP Physics class would be to try to avoid eye contact and act like nothing happened. "I wasn't raped" I muttered feebly.
"Because you got away. Trust me, that little minx wanted you inside her. She probably went home and Jilled herself off for an hour or waited for some unsuspecting football player to finish practice and threw him around a few times." She could see the hurt on my face as she finished. It wasn't her intention, but she seemed to obviously knew something of Becky's drives. Then it began to dawn on me.
"Are you - are you saying you are like this too? You can't be serious. You're not some insatiable sexual dynamo." I said standing to emphasize my point. "I mean, we have a lot of great sex, but you aren't pulling guys off the street and screwing their brains out. And, while, my dear, you are built like a brick house, canlı bahis siteleri (http://www.pongp.com/) you're not bending bars or anything. This is some kind of -"
I was cut off. Moving faster than I could register in my brain, Nadia had crossed from her seat on the couch, clasped her hand across my mouth, and pressed me against the far wall; my feet touching the floor maybe once on the way there. I grasped her wrist first with one hand then with both of mine but found I couldn't budge her hand. I struggled to push her away, but that was also fruitless. "Are you sure about that?", she smiled that mischievous grin that I fell I love with. She pressed forward a bit, pushing herself against me and me against the wall. I struggled to breathe as my soft flesh yielded to her steely muscular frame.
"Mmef me gnnnn", I struggled to get out. "Es cnt bfff"
"Was that, 'Ok, dear, I'm ready to listen, and thank you for protecting my delicate male ego and not breaking every fragile bone in my weak pathetic body every time I've angered you for the last year or two'?" She laughed. "No, okay then." She started to press forward more.
"Uhkey, Uhkey," I gasped, signaling my "willingness" to listen.
She moved her hand off my mouth, stepped back, and caught me as I started to collapse. She eased me over to the couch and went to the kitchen. She returned with an ice pack, a bottle of water, and some Advil. I put the ice pack on my now screaming neck/shoulder and took the Advil.
"I've wanted to talk to you about this for a while", she began. "At first I thought it was just me, but, then it became clear it was pretty much all biological women." I raised an eyebrow. "Women talk to each other when something is up with our bodies, honey. I know men would rather die than do that, but women do." She put her arm around me. "I should have known, as randy as the women at the gym are, that some inexperienced hormonal girl wouldn't be able to control herself."
The gym. "You started going to the gym without me. That's part of this, isn't it?" I asked.
"Well, I realized I could hold back in the bedroom, but couldn't really exert myself and still keep this under raps." She smiled. "Today, I was benching 600lbs for reps. No way to be subtle about that."
"Six - six hundred pounds?!" The numbers in my head telling me that was somewhere well north of the world record max lift for man her size. "Is there anything else?" I asked, hoping there wasn't
She started, "Well, you usually go to sleep, so you probably haven't noticed I don't go right to bed after we have sex. I just don't tire out very easily. A couple of days ago, I went out to try running a 10k practice. I ran an even 24 minutes - beating the men's world record by more than a minute. And then..."
I interpreted, "And then you went and ate three bulldozers."
"No", she replied sternly, "Then I went and masturbated for an hour. I came, like, ten times."
I was floored. "But, but we have sex all the time." I was near collapse at this point.
"I know", she said, "And it's really good sex, but I have to hold back canlı bahis (http://www.pongp.com/) because I'm afraid I might hurt you. And, well, I need a lot more." She went to our bedroom and brought back a box "Look", she told me, opening the lid.
The box was an assortment of dildos and vibrators of various sizes ranging from about the same size as my dick up to some that were impressively - almost comedically - large. They were in various states of disrepair a couple were broken in two. One was bent over nearly double. Another, this one a gleaming stainless-steel model, was, no shit, dented and crinkled. I started to get the picture. "You use these a lot", I said to no one in particular,
"Every night, after you go to bed." She was getting teary.
"But we have sex nearly every night. You can't tell me you faked orgasm every night for over a year." I was getting irritated. I never wanted anything more out our lovemaking than to please her. I couldn't care less about my sense of sexual prowess. If she was faking, I wanted to know, so I could try harder.
"No. I just couldn't let myself go." She was crying now. "I came, mildly, nearly every time, but had to hold back. And...", she was nearly sobbing, "It was just never enough. I wanted it to be, but I needed more. I got those, because I was worried I would end up cheating on you. A lot of the girls at the gym end up with each other because their men can't take them. I just wanted to be only with you." The tears were flowing fully, "I'm so sorry!!" She raged, slamming her fist down on an oaken end table, shattering it.
"Stop. Stop." I was crying too. Part out of sorrow that I hadn't been able to give her what she needed, part out of gratitude for all that she'd done to shield me, but also out of fear. Her outburst and display of destructive power scared me. For the third time today, I was worried that a girl was going to break me physically. It was not a good feeling. Also, looking at the smashed end table, a lot of little things over the last year popped into my head. The crumple car hood from when she "hit a deer" that left no blood or fur on the car. The bent metal faucet in the basement. The (gulp) hole our concrete block backyard retaining wall that "appeared" after she went out outside following a fight we had last Summer.
"Look", I said, "You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, I should be crying for your forgiveness. And I should be thanking you. You felt, for whatever reason, that you needed to keep this from me for my own good. And you took on this burden of meeting your own needs. I would have been devastated if you'd gone off with someone else. Now I was hugging her.
And then I did a dumb thing.
"Holding yourself back is stupid. And not being satisfied is dumb." I said getting completely over my skies. "I don't want you to ever leave our bed wanting again. I want you to let go. From now on, we have sex until you are satisfied. I'm not done until you are done." I was as chest-puffed-out as a 150-pound man with a stiff neck, sprained wrist, and, small inhale, some bruised ribs could be.
"You are so cute when you're faking being brave." Nadia giggled, the tears waning. She pulled me in tightly, just hard enough to make me doubt my promise. She kissed me deeply and passionately. I wasn't faking. But, sometimes, bravery isn't enough.