Until a few weeks ago I was pretty sure I got myself a pretty reasonable, rather caring and mucho loving man. I mean, he sometimes was wickedly evil, but that’s part of the attraction, right?
But that all changed. Now I know he’s the incredibly cruel (censored) mothers warn their daughters about.
But then, once nice evening, we managed to get our offspring to bed and to sleep reasonably early, hubby got the ropes out, tied me to the bed, put a blindfold on my eyes and went out for a while. Everything peachy, so far. Great, even.
Came back, teased me, teased me some more, but didn’t do the sensible thing (for instance whipping my ass or fuck my brains to mush, preferably both, no matter in what order).
Then I felt something on my tit I couldn’t quite figure out. It felt like a feather or something similar. Then another, on my belly. A third, this time on my mons.
And then I realized that he’d caught a few junebugs outside and they were crawling all over my body and that was when I knew I’d been wrong about my husband. Dead, dead wrong.
I mean skin my ass with a bullwhip. Make me suck off the entire cast of ‘300’, including the Persians. Make me letting them take me up my ass afterwards.
Sure, bring it on. And then some, I’m all game.
You don’t let bugs crawl over a woman’s naked body! Especially when that naked body is mine. That’s just totally wrong on every conceivable level. A big, huge, NO-NO!
PS: The bugs? He threw them outta the window when he finally was done laughing. None of them was harmed or emotionally wrecked. Unlike others partaking in this scene, I might add.