Midnight Revelations: Aneros & New Year's

The scent of lavender and pomegranate hung heavy in the air, a strange juxtaposition to the raw energy still radiating from my husband’s body. Just moments ago, he’d been a writhing mass of pleasure, his muscles contracting violently against my touch, the Aneros prostate massager a silent testament to the intensity of his arousal. Now, he lay still, panting slightly, the lingering echoes of his ecstasy fading into the quiet of our bedroom. It was a stark contrast, a shift from primal release to a state of blissful exhaustion.

Last night’s New Year’s Eve party at the pastor’s house had been a blur of champagne, questionable dance moves, and forced small talk. But the memory of the evening felt distant now, overshadowed by the sheer physical connection we’d just shared. The message from Telegram, the link to the sex toy, had felt like a deliberate invitation, a whispered promise of something forbidden and intensely pleasurable. I’d initially dismissed it as a random impulse, a late-night digital flirtation, but the encounter had quickly spiraled into something far more profound.

The bath, the shave – they were merely formalities, a way to prepare myself for the inevitable. I’d chosen the jojoba oil, hoping to add another layer of sensual stimulation, a creamy, luxurious touch to the experience. The surprise of finding him already in place, eyes closed, legs parted, was a playful jolt, a reminder that he wasn’t just waiting for me; he was actively anticipating our time together. The flash of red between his hairy butt cheeks, peeking out from beneath the fabric of his underwear, was a primal, visceral image that ignited a fresh wave of desire within me.

The Aneros prostate massager, a gleaming piece of plastic and silicone, lay on the bed beside him. It was a strange instrument, designed to elicit intense pleasure through targeted pressure and vibration, and I’d never fully understood his fascination with it. But as I watched him adjust his position, allowing the curved arm of the massager to rest comfortably against his prostate, I began to grasp the appeal. It wasn't just about the physical sensation; it was about the control, the dominance, the power he held over his own pleasure.

“Oh! I thought I was going to have to come to you,” I giggled, abandoning my initial plan to simply moisturize the area of my recent Brazilian wax. The thought of the potential awkwardness, the vulnerability of exposing such a sensitive part of my body, had suddenly lost its appeal. Instead, I felt a surge of confidence, a willingness to surrender to the moment, to let him take the lead.

He smiled without opening his eyes, a subtle movement of his lips that conveyed a sense of anticipation and amusement. “No, I’ve been busy up here,” he replied, his voice a little weak, as he parted his legs a little further. The movement allowed me a more intimate view of his arousal, the rhythmic contractions of his muscles, the subtle shifts in his breathing.

I knew this was going to be an experience unlike any other, a collision of pleasure and power, a dance between submission and control. I leaned over him, my fingers tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his body. The scent of his arousal, mixed with the fragrance of the lavender oil, filled my senses, intensifying my desire.

As I moved down, straddling his ass instead, I felt a strange sense of dominance, a thrill in controlling his movements, in feeling the power of his body responding to my touch. The Aneros massager, now nestled between his cheeks, began its work, a silent, insistent pressure that sent shivers down my spine. The rhythmic vibrations, combined with the targeted stimulation, began to build a crescendo of pleasure within him.

“Is that okay?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, as I shifted my weight slightly, feeling the tension in his muscles escalate. “Am I making it hurt you?” The question hung in the air, a playful challenge, a test of his limits.

“I don’t think you can make it hurt,” he answered softly, his voice laced with a hint of pain. “You made it feel even better.” The words were a confirmation, a validation of my touch, a testament to my ability to ignite his pleasure.

Reassured, I continued my exploration, moving down his back, my fingers digging into the knots that always formed when he was tense. The lavender oil, warmed in my palms, spread across his skin, creating a soothing, sensual sensation. As I bent down to speak to him, wiggling my hips a bit, his welcome moan greeted my ears, a primal sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“But if you start to get excited, be careful not to buck me off!” I warned, remembering the times he had thrashed against me when I massaged his prostate with my finger. This was a real possibility, and I was determined to maintain control.

He caught his breath a second later, his eyes closed, and replied, “If I do, just climb back on. It feels so good.” The words were an invitation, a challenge, a promise of even greater pleasure.

I continued the massage, moving down his back, then across his shoulders, my fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. The rhythmic strokes, combined with the vibrations of the Aneros massager, created a symphony of sensation, a crescendo of pleasure that built within him. I felt his body respond to my touch, his muscles tensing, his breathing becoming more rapid. The heat intensified, and a primal moan escaped his lips.

As I shifted again, sliding down so that I was straddling his ass instead, I felt a surge of dominance, a thrill in controlling his movements, in feeling the power of his body responding to my touch. The Aneros massager, now protruding from his crack like a backward-facing plastic clit, made contact with my own, adding another layer of sensation.

“Oh, this is going to be fun!” I thought, abandoning my initial restraint and embracing the moment. I dug my strong fingers into the large muscles he uses to clench his buttocks, feeling the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain control. Then, as I shifted my weight onto him, he moaned louder, his body convulsing and shuddering with pleasure.

His thrashing intensified, and I felt myself being pulled, stretched, pushed to the limits of my endurance. But I held on tight, determined to maintain control, to deliver the pleasure he craved. As I rocked the tool with one hand and pushed down on the top of his butt with my other, the sensation became even more intense, more overwhelming.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll hold you down,” I fake-growled, my voice a low, guttural rumble. The words were a reassurance, a declaration of my dominance, a promise of continued pleasure.

He lifted his hips into the air, mimicking the way I sometimes do when he’s pounding me while I lay on my stomach. “Beautiful,” I gasped, as I shifted onto my knees and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer. He went wild, his body arching and twisting, desperate to escape my grasp.

“Stop trying to be in charge,” I commanded quietly, my voice laced with amusement. “You’ll just have to be patient.” The words were a reminder of my power, a subtle hint that I was in control.

As he complied, I took my place between his legs, feeling the heat radiating from his body. I found the bottle of oil that his wild thrashing had hidden under the edge of the covers and warmed some between my hands before applying it to his ankles and shins. The cool liquid spread across his skin, creating a soothing sensation that eased the tension in his muscles.

Working my way up his legs, my well-oiled forearms dug deep into the muscles he uses to clench his thighs, feeling the power of his body responding to my touch. As I moved down to his belly and sides, avoiding his cock, I felt a sense of intimacy, a connection that transcended the physical. Finally, I scooted my knees right up against his backside, feeling the warmth of his body radiating through my clothes.

He seemed to know what I had in mind, lifting his hips for me as I leaned forward, kissing him softly on the lips. The taste of his arousal, mixed with the scent of the lavender oil, filled my senses, intensifying my desire. As I let my tongue slip inside and tease him, I felt a surge of pleasure, a primal connection that left me breathless.

Then, as I shifted onto my knees and straddled his back, feeling the power of his body responding to my touch, I felt a sense of release, a letting go of control, a surrender to the moment. The rhythmic strokes, combined with the vibrations of the Aneros massager, created a symphony of sensation, a crescendo of pleasure that built within him, and within me. The heat intensified, and a primal moan escaped his lips, a testament to the intensity of our shared experience.

The encounter continued, a slow, deliberate dance between pleasure and power, until the sun began to rise, casting a warm glow over our bedroom. As I let him calm down, he half-whispered, “How many Super-Os was that?”

“Oh, is that what they were?” I giggled, my eyebrows raised in surprise. “I knew you were enjoying yourself but…”

“Yeah, it’s like a full-body orgasm but no ejaculation,” he explained, still breathing heavily. “Then turn over and I’ll do your front.”

As he complied, I took my place between his legs again, feeling the warmth of his body radiating through my clothes. I found the bottle of oil that his wild thrashing had hidden under the edge of the covers and warmed some between my hands before applying it to his ankles and shins. The cool liquid spread across his skin, creating a soothing sensation that eased the tension in his muscles.

Working my way up his legs, my well-oiled forearms dug deep into the muscles he uses to clench his thighs, feeling the power of his body responding to my touch. As I moved down to his belly and sides, avoiding his cock, I felt a sense of intimacy, a connection that transcended the physical. Finally, I scooted my knees right up against his backside, feeling the warmth of his body radiating through my clothes.

His thrashing intensified, and I felt myself being pulled, stretched, pushed to the limits of my endurance. But I held on tight, determined to maintain control, to deliver the pleasure he craved. As I rocked the tool with one hand and pushed down on the top of his butt with my other, the sensation became even more intense, more overwhelming.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll hold you down,” I fake-growled, my voice a low, guttural rumble. The words were a reassurance, a declaration of my dominance, a promise of continued pleasure.

He lifted his hips into the air, mimicking the way I sometimes do when he’s pounding me while I lay on my stomach. “Beautiful,” I gasped, as I shifted onto my knees and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer. He went wild, his body arching and twisting, desperate to escape my grasp.

“Stop trying to be in charge,” I commanded quietly, my voice laced with amusement. “You’ll just have to be patient.” The words were a reminder of my power, a subtle hint that I was in control.

As he complied, I took my place between his legs, feeling the heat radiating from his body. I felt the pleasure as he responded to my touch, the power of his body responding to my control. The rhythmic strokes, combined with the vibrations of the Aneros massager, created a symphony of sensation, a crescendo of pleasure that built within him, and within me. The heat intensified, and a primal moan escaped his lips, a testament to the intensity of our shared experience.

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