Nurse's Secret: A Deep Dive Desire

The rain hammered against the windows of our secluded cabin, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the building heat between us. My wife, Sarah, was a nurse, a calm, collected professional who’d always been hesitant about certain pleasures. Oral and vaginal sex had always been our thing, a comfortable, predictable dance of desire. But lately, a restless energy had begun to simmer beneath the surface, a yearning for something more, something deeper. It started with a casual conversation, a whispered suggestion about anal play, and a surprising number of her colleagues having enjoyed it. It wasn’t the traditional route, not the way she’d always envisioned intimacy, but the thought ignited a spark in me, a primal curiosity that couldn't be ignored.

“I’ll talk to my friends,” she’d said, her voice barely above a murmur, “See what they think. Get a sense of what to expect.” Her hesitation was palpable, a wall built of ingrained fears and unfamiliar sensations. But I knew she was intrigued, just as I was. We struck a deal: she’d gather intel, and we'd explore this new territory together. The initial conversation with her colleagues yielded a surprising result – over seventy percent of them found anal sex pleasurable. It was a statistic that both intrigued and unnerved me, but also fueled my determination.

The first attempt was a disaster. I’d meticulously prepared, ensuring every inch of her body was slick with a generous layer of olive oil, a natural lubricant recommended by her friend. We started with a classic position, me straddling her from behind, my cock extended, eager to meet its destination. But as I began to penetrate, a sharp cry ripped through the air. She tensed, her muscles clenching in pain, and dropped to her stomach, my cock a quarter of the way in. The sheer force of my thrusting, combined with the unfamiliar sensation, triggered an involuntary ejaculation. It was a brutal, abrupt end to what should have been a slow, sensual awakening. Frustration hung heavy in the air, a bitter taste of unfulfilled potential. We both lay there, defeated, the rain continuing its relentless assault on the cabin walls.

The next evening, we tried again, this time with Sarah offering herself sideways, a more vulnerable position that felt both intimate and slightly less intimidating. This time, she adjusted more gracefully, her breathing deepening as she embraced the sensation. However, the tight squeeze persisted, a constant reminder of the physical limitations we were facing. Once again, my body responded before we could truly connect, a premature ejaculation leaving us both feeling frustrated and disheartened. The pattern continued for days, a frustrating cycle of anticipation and disappointment. We experimented with every conceivable position, hoping to find a sweet spot, a point of equilibrium where pleasure and control could coexist. But each attempt ended in the same agonizing result – a quick, violent release, a crushing failure.

Desperate to find a solution, we turned to the world of sex toys. Initially, we opted for a small buttplug, meticulously lubed with olive oil, just large enough to fit comfortably. It was a tentative step, a cautious exploration of the possibilities. Then, as Sarah gained confidence, we moved on to a slightly larger size, which she wore for a week, a silent signal of progress. She seemed to be slowly overcoming her inhibitions, embracing the sensation with increasing willingness.

Soon, she realized that things were starting to relax down there, the initial resistance gradually fading away. She began experimenting with even larger sizes, diligently lubricating each time, determined to push the boundaries of her comfort zone. Each day felt like a small victory, a step closer to the goal we’d set for ourselves. The anticipation was electric, a tangible force that filled the cabin with a palpable sense of excitement.

Finally, the day arrived. We both took the time to thoroughly cleanse ourselves, stripping away any lingering doubts or fears. Then, Sarah laid face down on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, her cheeks spread wide in invitation. The rain continued its rhythmic drumming, a soundtrack to the impending pleasure. I slowly approached her, my cock sliding into the darkness, seeking the warmth and welcome of her receptive passage. As I penetrated deeper, a wave of intense pleasure washed over me, a primal surge of sensation that threatened to overwhelm my senses. It was an experience unlike any I’d ever known, a complete and utter surrender to the moment.

Sarah responded with a desperate cry, a plea for more, a testament to the depth of her own arousal. I obliged, feeding her with an almost frenzied intensity, pushing myself to the very edge of my capacity. The feeling was overwhelming, a torrent of pleasure that seemed to have no end. Finally, with a final, explosive release, we collapsed onto the bed, breathless and exhausted, the rain still pounding against the windows.

Since that night, anal sex has become a regular part of our repertoire. It's not always easy, there are still moments of awkwardness and discomfort, but it’s undeniably rewarding. The one drawback, as Sarah has pointed out, is the occasional leakage of semen throughout the day, a lingering reminder of the intense pleasure we’ve experienced. But even this minor inconvenience is easily overlooked in the face of the overwhelming joy it brings us. It’s just one of the many ways she loves me, a unique and intimate expression of her desire. Her willingness to explore this aspect of our intimacy is truly remarkable, a testament to her courage and her unwavering support. It's a reminder that sometimes, the greatest pleasures are found in the most unexpected places. And as I lie here beside her, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, I know that this journey of discovery has only just begun. The rain continues to fall, a soothing rhythm accompanying our shared pleasure, and I wouldn't trade this experience for anything in the world.

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