Reading Stories on Medium Can Be Orgasmic

Chronicle of an Open Marriage #43

HoneyBear signed up for Medium so he can read what I write about him. Okay, I’ll be honest. I gifted him the subscription. I know it turns him on to read what I say about him, and I like to turn him on. It’s one of my favorite activities.

When we first got together about a year ago, I was under the impression that HB never read for pleasure. At first, I didn’t even know he was smart. He’s from a cowboy state, skipped college, then went into the military where he stayed 30 years, and his vocabulary isn’t expansive. Sometimes, I’d say a word like “sustenance” and he’d repeat it as if it were unusual. I didn’t know what to think.

Over time, though, I’ve seen that HB is intelligent. Also funny like Hubs, which I enjoy. Not having gone to college is not the same thing as not being intelligent. HB holds up his end of the conversation. He has more to recommend him than luscious kisses and an inexhaustible c*ck.

And once he became a member of Medium, I noticed that he was often reading — mostly erotica. Sometimes, he would send me a link. INFINITE PASSION is one of his favorite writers. Also Golden Muse. “Did you read the story I sent you about the housewife who invited all the men in the neighborhood over to f*ck her?” he asked. “No. I haven’t gotten to it yet,” I replied. In truth, I didn’t think I was ever going to get to it. It’s not that I don’t like reading sexy stories. It’s that our tastes don’t always align.

The thing is, I’m a bit of a pervert, with one very specific fetish: spanking. This doesn’t mean that I want to be spanked, or that I want to spank Hubs or HoneyBear, although I’m not opposed to it. It means that I fantasize about spanking when I’m having sex, and that’s the kind of erotica that turns me on.

Tuesday nights with HoneyBear

One Tuesday night HB asked if I’d like him to read me a story while we were having sex. I couldn’t believe my luck. I LOVE being read to, but haven’t had anyone willing to do that for me since I was in college.

I mention that it was a Tuesday because I sleep over at HB’s on Tuesdays. That means Hubs wasn’t there and we were alone together, which made it easier to try a silly thing like f*cking while reading aloud. “Yes! I would love that!” I answered excitedly.

It’s fun to sleep over HB’s for many reasons. One is that his bedroom is unlike ours, so it’s an adventure. He has Alexa set up, and she responds to my commands. I like ordering her around. I usually tell her to play 91.1 on the radio, which is a jazz station. If the music sounds bluesy and sexy, we keep that going while we make love. Sometimes it makes the perfect soundtrack. But if the DJ is playing music that’s too frenetic, we put on something else.

HB also has a light that he controls with his phone. He can change it to any color in the rainbow, which is cool. I asked him to make it red, the classic color for sex. That’s why in Amsterdam, where prostitution is legal, they have a “red light district” where sex workers lean out of windows and entice passersby. Red light smooths out the skin, hides imperfections, and makes people look more beautiful.

HB’s bed isn’t great, but I appreciate that he’s made alterations for me. He used to have it raised up on blocks which made a squeaking noise when we copulated, which distracted me. Then he removed the blocks and now the bed is lower and quieter.

So we were lying in red light on his low bed when he started suggesting titles. “How about Hubby Watches Wife Get F*cked by Another Man?”

“Nah.”

“The Bank Lady Gets Smashed by a Young Party Boy?”

I frowned and shook my head.

“Naughty Library Sex with a Kinky Lady?”

“Maybe that one... Keep going.”

“She Loves Being a Good Girl for Daddy?”

“That’s the one! I’m sure there will be some spanking in that one.”

I turned onto my side for the literary experience. I wore a pretty lacy camisole on top, but had taken off my panties. With his hard c*ck in hand, HB pressed against me from behind, and we took a moment to get situated just right. Then he held his phone aloft with one hand while steadying himself on my shoulder with the other, and began reading aloud as he slowly entered me.

I reached up to take hold of his hand so I could brace myself against him and not be pushed off the bed. Then I lay back and listened as he read a story about a man meeting his lover in a parking lot. It had a long build-up, and so did we. I moved my butt gently against HB’s groin which kept us both going. His thrusts came faster and faster as the story got more exciting. And I loved to hear his voice crack and his breath get ragged as he struggled to continue to read out loud. He timed his climax with the climax in the story, which was surprisingly satisfying. And for this avid reader, it was a first.

Return of the Hungry Man

Since that night, I’ve gotten an email from my old sexting partner, Hungry Man, the very man who got me started on this pleasure path. Back when I was sexting with Hungry Man, I brought all my sexual energy back to Hubs, since I couldn’t culminate with HM who lived too far away.

Hubs loved that.

Back in the day, Hungry Man and I continued sexting and riling each other up for some time before his wife pulled the plug, deciding she wasn’t ready for polyamory after all. But now she’s changed her mind. And Hungry Man was thoughtful enough to send me the details of his very first extramarital assignation, which he had with a local woman with big breasts. And as it turned out, that was enough to restart our old pattern: I got all hot and bothered reading about his escapade, then brought my heat to Hubs, who rewarded us both with a magnificent orgasm.

Now Honey Bear is wondering if I’ll read him the email next Tuesday! I guess I need to get Hungry Man’s permission first?

In the meantime, I wrote a bit of “fan fiction” in response to the email, placing Hungry Man and his big-breasted lover in an office setting, where he disciplines her for displeasing me. I sent it back to him and he reported that he got hot reading it, so the cycle continues…

It sounded something like this:

I hold Sarah’s pillowy breasts in my hands, weighing their heft one by one, then suck on one tender nipple while she grinds her perpetually wet pussy against my thigh. I bury my face between her big breasts as I push them against my cheeks, almost suffocating. She pulls back a little.

You tell her she must submit to me or she will be punished! She gives her head a little shake. I move behind her to unbutton her pants and yank them down to her ankles. Then I hook one finger in her sheer black panties and pull them down too, to reveal her pink ass. You command her to lay across your lap and administer a sound spanking. Her little cries escape your closed door, so all the others in the office know that she’s getting a spanking, and she hopes desperately that none of her coworkers will walk in.

I watch her face scrunch up as she tries to hold back her cries, and watch her tits bounce as each hard swat lands on her bare bottom. When it’s burning bright red, you pause to remind her that this is what she gets for being a bad girl and disobeying me.

Then you order her to stand up, pull up her pants, and return to the office. Her face is red with embarrassment as her co-workers eye her plump backside and wonder when or whether she will be punished again…

What happened next? Read Chronicle of an Open Marriage #44. Find all of my stories about opening our marriage on the list below, or about sex in general on this one. Get an email whenever I publish. And have a wondrous day.