How to Push Your Husband Into Switching.

All of this talk of switching and I’ve skipped the impetus for it.

You can blame my cock.

Or more to the point, my wife’s rehabilitation of my cock.

She had flown into town, we had a marvelous breakfast, and then I took her back to my place. She went out shopping while I slept, having done a marathon few days at work. When she came back, we had lunch, and then I looked at my tiny bed.

“We should fool around.”

She looked at the bed. “I thought we were going to wait to check into the hotel? Your room is too small, your landlords could come home…”

“They won’t be home until 4, let’s just get a quickie.” I said.

And so we lay down, and started making out. And before I knew it, we were naked, and I was up on my arms over her, moving inside and out. She gasped the first few times I thrusted into her. “It’s been so long, and you’re so big today…”

And something about that, hearing my cock complimented as she gasped and tried to get comfortable with it, reminded me that I’m not the guy with the cock-insecurity any more. I’ve got a big cock. She showed me just how big. And thinking of the ache in my ass from her using the my-cock-sized-dildo in me, I started thrusting inside her harder. She got wetter as I did, began clenching her thighs around me, grunting and gasping.

I put my hands under her thighs and brought her legs up until they were resting on my shoulders, and then began pounding into her. I felt so strong — so powerful — so dominant. She stared up at me in interest, watching the look on my face. I saw her eyes sharpen, her glance get hard and intent, and she brought her hand up to strike me. I did the unthinkable:

I caught it by the wrist. “No,” I said. “No hitting me. No nipple play. This is about me fucking you.”

The bed’s headboard was slamming into the wall with every thrust, dinging the paint, banging like a jackhammer. Fuck it, I’ll pay for the damage. The bed moved beneath us in counterpoint to my timing. I looked down and held my wife’s gaze. She stared up at me in something like adoration, and then I saw her give in to the feeling and her eyes rolled up and to the side. Her face relaxed and she just took everything I had to give.

I felt like a god. I felt powerful and strong and like my cock was the center of the world. It connected us. It drove into her. I was a machine. I was the man she wants me to be.

Her eyes focused on mine again, and she said, very quietly, almost pleadingly, “I want you to come on my face.”

“What?” I asked.

“Come on me. Mark me. I’m yours, your slut, your whore, God, control me.”

“You want that?” I asked. “You want to be my slave?”

Her eyes rolled back again. She was helpless, and she said, “Yes, yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…Master.”

I smiled. I watched her breasts wobble in time to my pounding. “I’m not going to come anytime soon,” I said. I was in better shape than I thought, barely breathing heavy.

“What?” She was horrified. She wanted her facial.

“No. I’m too wound up, I feel too powerful and in control. I can’t let go. But we have all weekend.” And after a moment more, I pulled out of her. I stared down at my cock, amazed at it, the feeling of power that really thrusting and pounding and fucking had imbued to me. She wants to be dominated, I thought?

We can do that.

She stared at me with something akin to awe or worship, in a fuck-sore headspace of her own. She began cuddling with me, and then eager to please me, she crawled down the skinny bed and put her mouth over my cock.

“Good girl,” I said as I moaned. She sighed happily at the compliment.

And that’s how she got her husband to switch.