Pleasingly Debauched

Pleasingly Debauched

Ginger Man and Dior: From the outside, highly respectable indivduals. But here, in the space they share, their darkest and most intimately debauched feelings surface ... Read on, and be prepared to have your foundations rocked.
(Warning: Adult and explicit content. If you are under the age of 18, go away. Now.)

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Your Tryst

My darling Dior,

While I was away last evening, you misbehaved and had a tryst with J., one of your several on-line boyfriends.

I had already brought you off earlier in the day with a debauched scenario, yet J. sent you
cock photos, and helped you get off again.

Allegedly, the five cock-photos are all about how J. got hard thinking of you. You admit this is strangely flattering.

When I sent you a text message, did I sense you were being brought to orgasm by another man?

“You know you are the only one for me. It was rose in a fisted glove time, nothing more. It was an opportunity presented.”

My Dior, I am so hard right now. So very hard … knowing you viewed J.’s nude photos while you masturbated to his lewd dialogue.

I must bring myself off. I’m afraid I look at the nude photo of Aliza, displayed on her blog … her backside. She reminds me of you.

I'm looking at her ass. The cheeks are spread sightly apart to reveal her anus. And I so want to fuck your ass.

You do love that - don't you?

A hard cock pumping into your tight asshole … filling you up.

Of course you love it … and I love thinking about it as I stroke my hard cock … the cock that should always fuck your ass.

link | posted by Ginger Man at 2:42 PM | 0 Debauched mutterings

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

The Driver

I am not a conformist, so I don’t follow the crowd.

What sets me apart from most men is that I love to share my wife with another male, and watch her uninhibited behavior.

Dior is the consummate lover who knows how to please a well-deserving man, and this makes me very aroused.

Early in our relationship, Dior knew of my debauched outlook. This revelation made her especially happy, and eventually led Dior to an on-line contact with Mark – a hot young cowboy from Australia, for some extremely torrid cyber sex.

I had no problem with this, and even encouraged Dior to be nude for her boytoy on web cam.

So, when we decided to celebrate our marriage with a honeymoon Down Under, the chance for Dior to finally meet Mark seemed perfectly natural.

As we made our way through the arrival hall of the small airport, I could spot her Outback cowboy easily. Despite Dior’s description of Mark as 6'2", blonde-haired and golden skinned, I was not prepared for his appeal.

Since Mark had exposed his long thick cock several times to my wife on web cam, I knew by the wanton look in her eye that Dior would easily succumb to him during our visit – more than once.

The idea of letting my bride fuck another man on our honeymoon is outrageous, but it’s so undeniably erotic.

Regardless of circumstances, after Dior is finished with her lover she always returns to me, and I reclaim her as my true love. While I may revel in her gratification with another man, I seduce her all over again and make her mine.

As Mark loaded our baggage into the back of his truck, I turned to Dior and whispered discretely: “I know you want him. I’ll drive while you have fun in the backseat.”

I convinced our host to let me drive along the unfamiliar roads of the countryside, while he and Dior became better acquainted as passengers. This required no coaxing, at all.

As I quickly made my way through the Outback, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of Dior’s murmured approval of her 6’2’cowboy.

I knew exactly what my wife was doing with her boyfriend, and I loved it. I adjusted the rear view mirror for a better glimpse of what was happening in the backseat.

And what I couldn’t see, I could hear … and between the two, it was obvious that Dior already had her hands on his long and thick cock. In fact, she had two hands at his disposal.

How many times had Dior stroked my cock … sucked my cock … took me to heaven with the combination of her deft fingers and her supple mouth?

Oh, my God. Dior is an extraordinary cocksucker … she has a supreme gift of the oral arts. And I know that when my wife dedicates herself to fellatio, she can’t resist some mild ass play.

So I knew Dior would be finger-fucking Mark, while she stroked his throbbing cock.

What is it about me that becomes feverishly aroused by my wife …. on our honeymoon, no less, misbehaving with a relatively unknown man in a vehicle I’m driving?

What is it about our relationship that I love to watch, and she loves to perform?

What is it about our relationship that produces a fidelity few people can possibly understand?

We are true to each regardless of how others might perceive our behavior.

Sex with other people is just sex; it’s gratifying like anything that satiates an appetite … but it’s not love … it’s not that indefinable quality that produces a unique connection between two people who are simultaneously friends, lovers, and partners.

I could hear Mark moaning from behind me. Dior was stroking his cock with her usual sensuousness.

As I turned to view my wife with her boyfriend, she leaned down just in time for Mark to send a torrent of warm cum into her eager mouth. I heard the familiar sounds of her ingesting a hot, spurting cock.

Mark was all played out, and Dior kissed him and held him close.

I pulled off the road and came round to Dior’s window. She looked absolutely beautiful, and the smell of sex permeated her. I leaned forward to kiss my wife. We were on our honeymoon, and the taste of another man’s warm cum saturated her lips.

I couldn’t stop kissing Dior for the longest time. She was mine, and I loved her beyond words.

link | posted by Ginger Man at 2:43 PM | 0 Debauched mutterings

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Outback in the outback (Assignment 3)

As the landing gear unfolded creakily beneath the plane, I turned to you, yawning and stretching, which managed to melt into a hug and deeply passionate kiss. You returned this with ardour, as we prepared to disembark the flight on which we'd been ensconced this last 20-odd hours.

I have to say, before I continue my narrative, what a pleasure it is to fly with you. Aside from all the disgracefully debauched groping and fumbling throughout the flight, which was far more fun than I'd have ever imagined; you're just lovely to be with. Our connection is so strong that I appreciate each and every moment I spend with you. You are not just my lover and my writing collaborator; you are the love of my life, and my best friend.

Grabbing our hand luggage (mine, of course, being far larger than yours), we shuffled off the plane and began to walk towards passport control, then baggage claim, then finally through customs and out into the arrival hall of the small Australian airport; hand in hand, as is our wont. Just an ordinary, second-time-around pair of honeymooners, leaning against each other; less for support, rather than for each to feel the other's presence.

You nudged me. "There he is, that must be him." I looked in the direction to which your finger pointed, and I saw him. Mark. A man I'd met and become friendly with over the Internet, with your full support and encouragement, never dreaming that one day I would meet him, let alone be with you when I did. 6'2", blonde-haired and golden skinned; I've described him previously as a debauched Adonis, and I wasn't far off the mark.

We walked toward him, as he walked towards us, and once the formal introductions were over, he gave me a massive bearhug. "I'm so glad to finally see you in the flesh," he murmured, in his thick Aussie accent that I found so charming. "And you, mate", he said to you, with a flash of his boyish smile. "Lovely to have you both here. This way to the truck," and he set off at a pace that we didn't even try to match.

As he loaded the baggage into the back of the truck, I watched his muscles literally ripple and caught my breath. You heard it; felt it; knew what was on my mind, and whispered something in my ear, to which I immediately acquiesced. You then turned to Mark, with your lovely smile, and that evil twinkle in your blue eyes that I so adore.

"Hey, Mark -- I've been flown by someone else for hours. Mind if I take the wheel for a while? You can keep Dior company in the back seat; just point me in the right direction."

Mark looked puzzled. "But... you've just been on a plane journey... aren't you tired?"

"Sure," you said, "A little. But what do you say to heading for a coffee shop before going to yours? What do you think? I need my coffee and I'm not sure I can wait the whole three hour drive to your place for a cup... hmmm? Please?"

I smiled benignly. I'm used to your idiosyncrasies, and this was so like you .... even though I knew you had an ulterior motive.

"Well .... ok," replied Mark, still bemused, although not particularly bothered at the weirdness of the suggestion. "There's a place about an hour down the road. Take the first left after you turn right out of the car park, and just keep going straight."

This decided, we piled into the truck; you in the drivers seat, and Mark and I in the back seat.

What was it I'd mentioned to you all those months ago? When the idea of a honeymoon was no more than pie in the sky? I was telling you the details of my latest conversation with Mark, and we'd casually started shooting the breeze about how wonderful a honeymoon in the Outback would be... and I'd alluded to how long Mark and I figured it would take before we jumped each other, once I'd landed in Oz.

I'd estimated an hour. He was about to prove me wrong. And you loved it.

You started the car, and drove off as instructed. Sitting in the back seat with Mark, I was conscious of his bare arm brushing mine, of the shivers running down my spine, and of his eyes boring into me; I could feel them sweeping me like searchlights, as I minutely examined the stitching on the edge of my handbag. He suddenly raised his hand, and brought his finger to my chin, as he lifted my face to his and kissed me: hard, passionate and oddly sweet .... embracing me as he did, until we were completely entwined.

As I kissed him, my hand ran down his body, until I felt the telltale bulge that I knew was his cock; the cock he'd suddenly and voluntarily shown me on cam only a few months ago .... his shy smile belying his delight at having finally shocked the unshockable Dior.

My fingers traced the outline, and then took on a life of their own; deftly unzipping and holding his gloriously hard appendage; feeling it throb and thrum as I slowly began to caress it. He let out a silent moan, and buried his face in my neck .... whereupon it was my turn to moan .... oh my god ....

I turned so that I could massage him with both hands; one cuddling his balls, and the other lazily stroking one fingernail up his shaft .... then two .... then all five. He yowled in pleasure, and I heard you chuckle to yourself, and then let out a sigh of knowing satisfaction.

Making an "O" out of my fingers around the base of his shaft, I brought my hand up it slowly.... allowing my nails to trace along it as I did .... feeling him shiver against me as he kissed me again .... so deeply and passionately, it reminded me of you. I lifted my face, so that his lips found my neck and throat .... and were then free to whimper as I increased the friction of my hand on his shaft, and the gentle squeezing and caressing of his balls.

"Oh my god, you're incredible ...." he gasped, as he shifted so that I could access him more freely. Leaving his balls briefly, I pulled his shorts open wider, and pulled them off him, stroking his crack with my hand and dipping into his anus quickly. He gasped again wordlessly.

My hand was now flying up and down his shaft, which was becoming more and more engorged as I continued the stroking and squeezing of his long, hard, thick cock. Returning my alternate hand to his balls, I found them hot and risen; I licked my hand lavishly and enveloped them within my palm once more.

I noticed that the radio was uncharacteristically silent, and realised that you'd shut it off in order to hear the effects of my behaviour on Mark. For your benefit, as much as for Mark's, I began to whisper sweet somethings in his ear .... "Come for me baby .... god, your cock is so beautiful .... come for me .... come now .... it'll be the first time of many, I promise .... this is an appetizer, you'll see.."

At this last breathy remark, he murmured his acquiescence. "I'll make you moan like mad later, just you wait darl," he exhaled, and then caught his breath as I increased my pressure on that tiny soft place at the base of his shaft, just below his balls.

"Are you close, baby?" I asked him, and he nodded frantically. Tugging at my seatbelt, I loosened it so that I could bend my mouth to the tip of his throbbing head, just in time for him to spurt cum into my mouth and down my throat, releasing a strangled cry of ecstasy as he did. He lay in my arms, spent, exhausted and delighted, and I kissed him softly, and held him close.

Upon hearing Mark climax, you immediately pulled the truck over to the side of the road, got out rushed around to my door to kiss me. Pulling back, you took my face between your hands and looked me straight in the eye.

"Your first misbehaviour as my real time wife," you said, and kissed me again. "May it be the first of many."

link | posted by Anonymous at 2:38 PM |

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