Feeling Dirty

I woke up this morning feeling dirty; not 'horny' or 'turned on' but 'dirty'.

There's a difference. 'Horny' is something we often feel, it's a good feeling and easily addressed. You take your partner to bed, you fool around with each other's bodies, and then you have sex until you climax. I do this with my husband Ryan a couple of times a week, he's a good lover, and I have no complaints about this arrangement or his performance. We've been together for five years, but I still feel horny quite a lot.

'Dirty' is different. It comes from some darker place. It's more urgent and more open to experimenting. It's not something I can suppress with my fingers or vibrator, and a few minutes of foreplay followed by a missionary fuck, however frantic, is not going to be enough. I need to do things to someone, things I don't discuss with even our closest friends, and have them done to me. I shouldn't be completely sure where it is going, because the normal rules have been suspended. We might need a safe word.

I don't know where this rare urge has come from. Perhaps I dreamt something erotic, but even as I swam into consciousness it was fading? Maybe we've just been having vanilla sex for too long. Whatever its source, it's very real, I feel wet already, and it's going to be a long eight hours until Ryan returns from work.

Can a dirty feeling last that long? You bet it can. I need to visit a couple of shops in the morning, and I imagine undressing the good looking assistant who serves me in the first. I see a couple around my age as I leave the shop, and wonder how they would attend to me if I joined them for a threesome. My gaze lingers for a fraction longer than it should, until they notice me staring and I have to hurry off.

At lunchtime I use my phone to send Ryan a picture of the smallest panties I own. They're white, and frilly with a pink bow on the front, and they're very slutty. He bought them for me a while back, and I said I would save them for a special occasion, so he knows what this means. I don't get a reply, but the two blue ticks tell me that he's seen it. I wonder if he's showing the pic to his workmates, and in my present mood, I almost hope he does.

It's hard to concentrate fully on anything, but by late afternoon the sweet torture is drawing to a close. I shower thoroughly, soaping my breasts under the warm water and imagining that it's Ryan's hands caressing them and rolling the nipples between his fingers, before his hands move down to my buttocks and the holes that will be his to use. I could shave my cunt but I choose not to; 'dirty', remember?

The underwear I put on is a reflection of my mood. I wear the knickers of course, and there's a matching bra which is almost transparent and does the bare minimum of work. I pull on some hold up stockings, and then a transparent slip over the top. Like most women I usually dress for comfort, but it's not like I'm going to be wearing this suggestive outfit for long.

In our full length mirror I admire my reflection, with its long blonde hair and slender figure. There are men who would pay good money to spend an hour with me looking like this, and if I was single I would go out tonight and let them. Even my name, 'Cindy', can make me sound like a hooker. As it is, I'm going to do all that those men would expect and more with my husband for free. 'Dirty', remember?

If you expect me to leap on Ryan the moment he gets home, you'll be surprised. He should already know the mood I'm in, but I need to bring him with me if I'm going to get the type of sex I crave. So I kiss him deeply when he comes home, and allow him to get a look at the loose top and short skirt I've put on over the top of my underwear. Then I send him for his own shower while I attend to our dinner.

You know that Geri Hall saying? "To keep a man happy, you have to be a cook in the kitchen, a maid in the living room, and a whore in the bedroom." Truthfully my culinary skills are only passable, but I figure that two out of three will be enough. So when Ryan reappears dressed casually, I fuss over him, asking about his day, and making sure he has everything he needs. Because he knows what's coming there's an unspoken charge in the air, and we don't acknowledge it but it's as real as the plates on the table. The anticipation will serve to enhance the experience I've planned, and I feel his eyes ogling my barely covered chest as I lean over to top up his glass.

If this all makes me sound submissive, that's not really the whole story. Ryan may want to control me tonight and I will let him, but only to a point. My desires are a mixed bag, and as much as it's important to me that he is pleased, there are a few kinks of my own that I need to act out, and he will need to let me lead him too, and trust me, if they are to be fulfilled. 'Dirty', remember?

Our meal is over. The drinks are finished, even if there's still a little left in the wine bottle. Ryan fixes me with a stare, a very slight grin on his face and simply says: "So?"

"So what?"

"When are we going to bed?"

I feign mock innocence. The game has begun, and we both know it. It seems we're starting with a form of roleplay.

"It's a bit early don't you think?"

"Oh, OK. Maybe we should start down here then."

"I don't know what you mean."

Suddenly his voice is flat.

"Slide your chair out. Touch yourself."

"The curtains aren't drawn. Someone could see in."

"We can chance that."

And of course I do it, because I'm feeling dirty, remember? I push my chair back from the table so that he can see me fully, sit at the front edge, and while he watches I spread my legs and pull up my short skirt so that my panties, stockings and bare thighs are fully on display. There's already a small damp patch below the bow, and I wonder if he can see it. Returning his look, I use a hand to pull my underwear aside, and his gaze doesn't waver as I slide my middle finger into my hot, warm pussy, and start to massage my swollen clit, which has been waiting hours for this moment. I am masturbating in my dining room while my husband watches, and finally the release that I need is close. He speaks again:

"Do it until you cum. You'll need more than one tonight."

Normal rules don't apply, so that's what I do. I add a second finger and fuck myself with them. For a few seconds I tease, stopping and using both hands to pull my lips wide so that Ryan can see the glistening pink slit between my legs, and then it's back to my self pleasure. The tension I've felt all day means that it's not at all long before I'm close to climaxing, and as I start to flush, and cry out, and I feel the vibrations starting to spread through my whole being, he leans over and puts two of his fingers into my mouth. So it is that as my orgasm hits and my body contracts, vibrating outwards from my pelvis and through my limbs, I am sucking desperately on his fingers, their presence stifling the squeals I want to emit.

When the physical sensations are fading, if not the giddy high, he removes himself and smiles. He's enjoying himself, and not ready to give up authority just yet. He wipes his fingers on my neck, knowing that with my dirty persona, he can stretch the boundaries.

"Now that you're ready, why don't you just undress right here? You're halfway already."

"The curtains are still open..."

"You'd like that though, wouldn't you? You'd like to imagine a passing guy catching sight of you, naked, while you strip."

"OK. But dim the lights."

He does, but as much for his pleasure as my comfort. Am I really nervous about someone seeing me through the window? A little. Am I enjoying the smell of my own arousal as I prepare my show? Absolutely. With this situation we've created I can't simply take things off as if I were getting changed, he'll need an exhibition.

Ryan has sat down again, so I stand over him and we lock eyes as I slowly pull my top over my head. Next I gently loosen my skirt so it slides to the floor. Already I'm just in my underwear, which I want to parade for a little longer. I see the excitement in his eyes, and a straining bulge in his trousers. My turn for some fun, I think:

"You want to see more?"

"Everything."

"Go down on me first."

Barely a second elapses between the words leaving my mouth, and Ryan sitting up in his chair. He pulls my panties roughly down to my knees, places his hands around my buttocks to pull me closer, and then he is lapping at my cunt, great long, slow strokes which are not so deep, but will be coating his tongue with my taste and juices. I push the back of his head firmly towards my stomach, and he responds with a sharp slap to my backside. The pain is a delicious thrill.

If he does this much longer I could cum again while I stand here, already my legs are shaking, but I have other plans. When you feel dirty, it's not just about letting your partner use your body to satisfy their own desires; you also want to help yourself to them, to do the things you were taught that you shouldn't. I don't know where these desires come from, and in this moment it's not something I'm going to be thinking about. So I pull my slip over my head, then release my breasts from the bra, and drop it onto his head, which causes him to stop what he's doing to me, and look up.

"Bedroom", I say quietly.

I'm still wearing my stockings, but I doubt Ryan will mind. He follows me quickly out of the door, and as soon as we're in the bedroom we're kissing wildly, his excitement now every bit as intense as mine. His hands paw and grope me roughly, touching my breasts, my nipples, my backside and my thighs, and I let him explore at will, feeling sticky under his touch. He has to pause for a moment while I remove his shirt, then I gently push him backwards so that he's sat on the bed, and drop to my knees. Ryan knows that in this mood I'm not just going to treat him, I'm also going to describe bluntly how I plan to do it. He's not the only one of us who can speak in a flat voice.

"Do you want me to suck your cock?"

"You know I do."

I smile, then unhook his trousers and pants in one go. Underneath the hard erection that I felt through two layers of material a moment ago is still there. I blow on it gently, then laugh softly as I slowly, deliberately slide the rest of his clothing down his legs, so that he's now naked. I ask him the question again.

"Do you want me to suck your cock?"

"Mmmm."

"Do you want to sit back while your dick goes in my mouth? Do you want me to run my tongue up and down the shaft, licking and tasting? I can peel back your skin, run my fingers over your head. I can push my tits around your cock and jerk you with those. Do you want to be deep in my throat while I suck you gently, and my hands tease your balls?"

"Oh fuck, Cindy."

If you've promised everything, you need to deliver. Eye contact is vital again; eye contact is important when you feel dirty. From my low position I stare directly at Ryan's expectant face, gently draw back his tight foreskin, then do something I've never done before, but which every guy has seen in a porn film. Very deliberately I drool a generous amount of saliva over the head of his cock and give it a couple of shallow jerks. He gasps, so I add a little more.

"Ready, big boy?"

If he answers I don't hear it. His cock is between my breasts and I am pressing them together, massaging him with my body. I doubt the sensation is a match for what's to follow, but the breathing from above and Ryan's expression tells me that he gets off on watching his shaft disappear into my chest, and then the head reappear just under my neck.

I can't do more filthy talk when I finally place his cock in my mouth, but I can maintain the eye contact and make exaggerated, appreciative noises. Does he know that I'm acting? Almost certainly, but we're both playing a part now; what might normally appear over the top feels just right in this moment. I expect him to start thrusting, fucking my mouth, but he doesn't, so I suck him as deeply as I can, staring up at him almost all the time. One of my hands fulfils my promise and lightly touches and tickles his balls, which causes him to squirm; the other goes between my legs and two fingers slide easily into my cunt and submit my clit to more attention.

I half expect him to cum, and if he did I know that I would swallow his semen, or at least as much I can manage. The taste of it is already strong in my mouth, warmed by the heat of his cock, and undiluted by my spit. I keep sucking, suck him some more, now wanting my prize, but then he is pulling me to my feet and dragging me back onto the bed with him.

For a minute or so we wrestle. Ryan is stronger than me, but only a little, and I can wriggle. It's not even clear who's doing what to who anymore. His leg bangs against mine a touch painfully, but we continue. We kiss urgently, our tongues pressing and swirling around each other as if in combat. Now he is kneading my breasts and nipples, and my hand is pummeling his buttocks, and now we both wriggle again, and suddenly Ryan is lying on his back across the bed, and I am lying, panting and sweaty across him. We pause, but only for a few seconds. 'Dirty', remember?

I swing my hips over my husband so that my pelvis is just above his face, into a 69 position, but that's not quite what I have in mind. Instead I arrange myself so that it's my backside, and not my cunt, that's in reach of his mouth, if only he will lift his head. No words are spoken this time, but the instruction is obvious. 'I want you to lick this.'

Ryan does not disappoint. I feel his hands on my buttocks, pulling them apart so that I am fully revealed to him, then the tip of his tongue is probing at my freshly showered anus. I squeal, and then he gives my arsehole the same treatment that he gave my cunt downstairs, coating me with long, broad strokes. I clench, the unfamiliar sensation is thrilling, illicit, and then he's using his hands to expose me again, and it feels as if his tongue tip has just about penetrated the entrance of my back passage.

I want to reciprocate. From my position I can't lick my husband's backside, but I lean forward and use a hand to probe under his balls and between his legs. He raises his hips, and so by licking a finger I am able to press it against his anus and then push it a very tiny amount inside him. I wiggle, I feel him relax, and then like picking a lock I am inside up to the second knuckle. I curl the finger inside him, and he stops attending to me to let out a groan. For the first time in a while he speaks:

"Cindy, we need to fuck."

"Sure. How?"

"Just lie back so I can screw you."

"Only if you fuck me hard."

Ryan is rediscovering his dominating side. I lie on my back and open my legs, expecting him to plunge straight inside me - we hardly need more foreplay - but instead he rubs his cock all around the entrance to my pussy, then moves up my body so his helmet is by my lips. I hardly need instruction and take him back into my mouth again, the taste of my own arousal now coating him. I get only a few seconds before he shifts again; perhaps this is a counter move for getting him to lick my arsehole, but now he rests his balls over my mouth, and so I attend to those too, treating their surface with gentle, short licks, and feeling them tighten when I take one fully inside. Do I mind being used in this way? Absolutely not.

When he is satisfied, Ryan moves back between my legs and penetrates me. I'm ready to be passive now, to let him have his way, and so I place my arms, submissive above my head. I'm not even sure he notices; for the first time this evening, our unspoken eye contact contract is broken, and he fucks me like a man possessed, his head somewhere over my shoulder as he thrusts hard inside my very lubricated cunt. It's very sexy - in no time I can feel a fierce orgasm building inside me, and without mercy Ryan keeps fucking as it grows, peaks, and then breaks, and I am all pins and needles, and my pussy contracts, and I am shrieking wordless noises so loud that they can surely hear me in the next street.

As my scrambled brain struggles to readjust, somehow, he is still going. I hold on for dear life, quivering as his hard cock moves inside my now raw passage. Just as I had with my mouth, I wait for his climax, a gush of semen inside me, but just when he is unmistakably getting close he stops, pulls himself out of me, and then with a cry he is pointing his cock over my body and covering my chest and stomach, marking me with multiple warm ropes of white spunk.

We have still not quite finished. After the final jet, I draw him closer, then take his softening cock into my mouth and clean it for him with my tongue. My reward is for him to massage my front, stroking his semen into my breasts and skin; one tiny pool is scooped up by his fingers and offered to me, one last chance to taste him.

Now we are finally physically spent, though the erotic mood remains. Really, I should go and shower again, and wash his drying spunk from my body, but I choose to lie here, Ryan's hand over me, and let it stay until morning. I'd like to be dirty a little while longer.