Phone Sex

The other night I was feeling rather…edgy, and I asked my wife for a bit of phone sex.  We’re going to be separated for longer than usual this time around — six weeks instead of four — and a side effect of our new lifestyle is that my old porn collection just isn’t cutting it.  (In addition, the average malesub story I encounter on places like Literotica tends to veer into a lot of cuckold and feminization stuff that I’m just not into.)  The wife graciously agreed, and we marked out time when I’d be awake and she’d have time to herself.

 For the record, my wife is different than me — she doesn’t really enjoy masturbation, even with toys.  She can get herself to orgasm using a showerhead or some porn, but it just doesn’t scratch her itch like real penetration or oral sex does.  In her inner-hierarchy of sexual need, penis-on-clit is first, oral is second, penis-in-vagina is third, anal is probably fourth, and then masturbation comes in a distant fifth.  (In all honesty, I suspect she’d put oral on me above masturbation for her.) She’s able to live with her horniness in a way I’m just not, but she’s happy to help me out once in a while by telling me a sexy story about her, me and one of her friends or something. 

 Now that we’re into BDSM, the story was about that — we return from a Halloween party to our house, and she’s dressed all gothy.  (My wife is very beautiful but she keeps it low-key, so the idea of her strutting around in a black wig with some white powder and red lipstick is just about insanely hot.)  She dominates me, collaring and leashing me.  She drags me to the bedroom, where she forces me on my knees and teases me — and here’s the bulk of the story is how she teases me, forcing me to worship her boots and legs as she pleasures herself — masturbating herself to orgasm while I pant and struggle.  She pulls out a riding crop and her strap-on and whips me, then forces me to fellate her strap-on.  Finally, she pops the crop into my mouth as a bit and takes me from behind while slapping my ass, back, and thighs.  As I’m getting close in real life, she reaches around in the story and I explode in her hand right as I explode in real life.

 Very hot.  It hits just about every one of my own peccadilloes — the boot worship, my love of goth girls (obviously an artifact of coming up in a day and age when that sort of thing was still not cool, and the girls I dated as a teen punk were all SoCal surfer girls into college rock), not to mention the teasing, her masturbating, her control over me, the leash, the fellatio of her “cock,” being “taken…”  She knows everything I like, and she pulls out all of the stops for the story, and I definitely came hard listening to her talk about it.

 The problem is — and it’s not a problem at all, just something I felt like noting — is that the story is very much about me.  I’m the center of attention. It’s not about her needs at all, it’s about me being teased and tormented.  It’s hot, it’s awesome, but the submissive in me knows that I don’t want this in real life.  I want our play to be about her.  I know she doesn’t like masturbation, so why would I want her to masturbate?  I know she doesn’t think of herself in goth attire, so why would I let her wear it during a session?  (I guess “let” is the wrong kind of voice to use — how about “want?”)  If she wants to do something, great, I’m there — I’m her fucking slave, I want to go along with her, I want to follow her head-first and headlong into her darkest and nastiest fucking fantasies, no matter where they go.  But I want less and less for her to do things for me unless they also get her off, because it being about her, that’s what gets me off.

 It’s the old power-vs.-pleasure problem — I got off on the phone sex, but what really takes me there is when I drown in her, when she’s got me tied up or she’s beating me or hurting me and ordering me around.  I want to lose myself inside her.  I want to, at least for a second, become nothing but a thing for her, to be property, to be an extension of her will.  I know that sounds cheesy and fake and impossible, but it’s what I want — it’s why hypnosis fantasies turn me on — I want to exist only to do what she wants, even if only for a little bit.  I’ve come hardest during phone sex when she’s just talking to me, ordering me to come and touch myself.  When it’s her power manifesting itself over me, shouting, “Do it!  Don’t make me wait, come!”

 Now, none of this is a problem.  It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.  As we get deeper into this, these roles, of Mistress and slave, domme and sub, sadist and masochist, I find a lot of the things that I used to think of unquestioningly as being about me aren’t fun anymore unless they’re about her, and a lot of the big milestones I wanted to hit — the threesome with two girls!, etc. — don’t matter.  It’s all about her.  It’s all about being hers.  I just want to get lost in her, just want her to go on a power trip and fucking use me and abuse me.  It’s weird to think about it like that - to think of my pleasure wholly in terms of her pleasure and desires.

Ah, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.  Or maybe I’m saying it just fine, but it’s not a question, just another realization of who and what I am and what I’m becoming.