A Change of Heart

"You want me to what?"

He stood there, at the bedroom door, still holding his briefcase. She was sitting on the edge of the bed that was still not made, still only in her nightgown, even though it was already five in the afternoon. An all too familiar sight nowadays, he thought.

"You heard me," she said and looked up. "I want you to stop cumming. Forever."

Her husband let out a slight, nervous chuckle.

"No one can't demand something like that!"

His wife looked at him.

"I think I just did," she said. The expression on her face was deadly serious. "And don't take that tone attitude with me. And don't play dumb either. You did read the links I sent you to work?"

Her husband sighed. "Yes, but..."

"But what?"

"You know... Sure, I know there are some people who spice their sex life by..."

"Playing kinky games in the bedroom?," she said in a mocking tone, cutting him off. "God how I hate those words. Honey, I'm not suggesting playing anything. This isn't a game. Not for me. And certainly not for you."

Her husband put the briefcase down and loosened his tie a bit.

"Honey, I don't think you understand. Do you have any idea how crazy and twisted and... SICK that sounds?"

"No, I think it's you who don't understand," she said in a very serious tone. "This is not about me, or you, it's about us."

"What in heaven's name do you mean, it's about us?"

His wife was silent for a moment, and put down the hairbrush she had been brushing her hair with.

"How could I make you understand?" she said and looked at him again, looking tired. "Okay, I'm going to say it straight to your face. I don't understand why you insist on cumming. When you're cumming, it feels like... well, selfish somehow. You grunt a few times and it's over in a matter of minutes, sometimes less so."

Her husband blushed a bit. She knew he didn't like when she said things like that to him, but she pressed on.

"Where's my satisfaction, or amusement? Should I somehow be impressed by that small puddle of boy goo that spurts out there and that you do such a big deal out of. It looks so... funny. Well, not really. Not even that. It just looks pathetic. God or mother nature or whoever created the sorry excuse of a human being called man, must have really hated you."

"Honey! There's no need to..."

"Yes, there is. You need to know what I think of it, and you."

He said nothing, not knowing what to say.

"When I cum, on the other hand, it lasts so much longer," she continued with almost dreamy voice. "It looks glorious, doesn't it? I know it does. When woman cums... it's so beautiful. And I can cum over and over. I can masturbate several times a day. Many times I do, when you're away. Some days I don't do nothing but when you're at work. I can orgasm at least dozen times a day, often more. And it feels great. It's such a great feeling, to do it by myself, when you're not around, with your silly little needs."

"Honey!"

"Don't interrupt me," she said. "You know it's the truth. And if you didn't know it, it's a high time you learned it."

She looked at him, almost desperate now.

"What I'm trying to say is that I can cum for the BOTH of us. You don't NEED to cum, honey. Really, you don't. Not as long as you can enjoy MY orgasms. When I cum, it's a shared experience, something we can both enjoy. When YOU cum, it's just selfish. Honey, it's so selfish it hurts."

"But honey, to take away man's right to orgasm, it's..."

"No."

He looked at her, genuinely puzzled now.

"What do you mean no?"

"Don't call it that," she answered and looked almost nauseous.

"Call it what?"

"An orgasm," she answered, and clearly looked disgusted now.

"Then what..."

"I don't know," his wife answered. "And I don't care. But what I do know is that what you, or any man, experiences when that little puddle of testicle sludge spurts out, isn't an orgasm. It's an insult towards women everywhere to call it that. Because it clearly doesn't feel the same than an orgasm. It can't, it simply can't, looking at you. So it's not an orgasm, period."

"Honey!" he said amazement in his voice. "You can't really believe that. Honestly!"

"No, honey," she said calmly. "I do really believe that. Honestly. Only women can have orgasms. What you men have is some sort of... cock sneeze."

"But..." he said but never finished his sentence.

She sighed, got up and walked to the glass patio door. Her gown was open and he could see the two beautiful arcs of her breasts underneath it. He understood she would be visible to any passer-by, but she didn't seem to care. The nightgown was very short and barely covered her buttocks. Despite the situation he couldn't help but to admire her. She was so beautiful, he thought.

"I've been trying to tell this to you during our whole relationship" she said after a pause. "But you have seemed too thick or stubborn to understand."

She turned, facing him again and leaned back against the glass door.

"Do you remember, some months ago, when we had that little game?" she said, putting her hands in the gown pockets and smiled. "When you didn't have my "permission" to cum for a week? Do you remember, or did you notice how excited I was? How happy I was?"

"Well, honey," he said after a pause, with hesitation. "Not really..."

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"Yes, most likely you didn't, and that's the saddest part of it all," she said looking unhappy. "During that week..."

There was a pause again, and then she lifted her gaze, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Honey, I haven't ever been more happy in my life, than during that week" she said and started smiling. "Your demeanour changed. You became more affectionate and caring. You really put effort into pleasing me orally, in a way you hadn't ever before."

The smile that had made her face so beautiful disappeared as she continued.

"But as soon as the week was over and you had your little spurt of trouser grime, you went straight back being the old you. The selfish you. The cumming you."

She turned again to face the yard and crossed her arms. "I fell in love with that more caring you, and I want him back."

He didn't know what to say. It seems he was walking on a very thin ice. He didn't understand any of this. After a while his wife continued.

"I think it was then I first had the idea to suggest this, and it has been on my mind ever since. If only you had understood how disappointed I was after that one week. If you hadn't went back to be the selfish you, so quickly... Who knows. During the last few weeks, when you've been away so much, I've finally made up my mind."

She looked at him over her shoulder.

"You do want me to be that happy again, sweetheart? You do love me?"

He could have swore there was a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Of course I love you, but..."

"There's no buts about it," she said facing the yard again. "If you love me, I want you to say you will stop cumming. For the rest of your natural life. Because I say so. That you won't ever let one drop of cock ooze out of your balls. I think I have all the right to demand it. I have been very unhappy, sex wise, during our whole relationship. It's about to change that, right here and right now."

His heart raced, and he still didn't know what to say.

"Honey..." he began, but again the sentence merely died away. Again, there was a pause.

"And then there's the other thing."

"W-what other thing?," he said. Wasn't this enough?

She turned around again and put the sole of the other foot against the glass door. Again, despite the situation, he found himself admiring her beauty. He looked up and noticed his wife looking at him sternly.

"Well, honey. I suppose you have noticed I haven't been that interested giving you blowjobs, or letting you cum inside of me? Have I ever, not once shown any interest to it?"

"Well, no..." he began. "But I thought you just were..."

"What?" she said and looked slightly annoyed. "Frigid? Uptight? Oh no, honey. It just makes me sick!"

"What makes you sick?"

She sighed.

"Well, the... God, I can't even say the name of the revolting phlegm.

"Honey! Don't..."

"Don't call it that?" she said looking even more annoyed now. "You don't like the way I call your... nauseating soup? Your pecker scum?"

She looked furious now, and continued.

"How about dick vomit? Genital manure? Ball puke? Nut smut? Pecker mucus? I can think of dozens of names for the smelly secretion! God I hate it! I hate the foul paste so much you don't understand!"

He felt he was supposed to say something.

"Well," he said after a pause. "It hardly not my fault..."

"Yes, I know it's not your fault your balls produce that stenchy fluid," she said, and kept looking at him intently. "It's not your fault your body produces shit either, but you don't go smearing it on other people, or expect them to like it."

"Honey!"

"No, I'm serious!," she said. "I think our patriarchal, masculine society's fascination with that schlong crud is unnatural and unhealthy. I feel so sick every time I've had to see even a glimpse of porn, to see women covered in that trouser poison. To see their breasts, or sometimes even faces, for heaven's sake, covered in that dong spooge."

"Honey, I've never asked you to..."

"No, you haven't" she said. "And I have appreciated it. If you had suggested or insisted on it, I'd left you."

"Is it really that big thing to you?"

"Yes, it is," she said. "Every time I have to see or even smell the reeky jism I feel nauseous. Every time we've had sex I feel as if you had defecated or vomited inside me. Do you have any idea how it feels?"

Again, there was a pause. She let her foot slide down, crossed her arms on her chest and looked away from him.

"No, I suppose you do not."

Still he didn't know what to say. This was all too much.

Letting out a deep sigh his wife walked to him and put her hands on his shoulders.

"So, you understand," she said, looking at him, with her mesmerizing, big, blue eyes. "The reason I loved the week so much wasn't just the effect the celibacy had on you. I enjoyed the fact that for a week, for a whole glorious week, I wouldn't have to see that male filth of yours, to see it oozing out of my beautiful husband every single time we made love."

She started to caress his neck and ears gently, in the way she knew he liked.

"So, honey," she said with a calm, soothing voice. "I've decided if we're about to stay together, you spilling that dirty excretion ends now. Your cumming ends now. Forever. Otherwise it is over between us."

He felt as if the earth had disappeared under his feet. This couldn't be happening. Simply couldn't. She kept looking at him straight into the eyes. Her eyes, he thought, looked like two blue pools of water he was drowning into.

"Do you love me?" she said after a while.

He let out a deep sigh and grasped her. Hugged her, tightly, desperately.

"Yes, I love you!," he said, almost tears in his voice. "More than anything!"

He felt her arms around him, hugging him as well. Felt her breasts press against his chest. They were joined in a tight, desperate embrace, and he could feel the softness of her body, smell the fragrance of her hair.

"I know you do, honey," she said. "And I love you. Very, very much."

She was silent for a moment.

"I wouldn't have brought this up if I didn't," she said, caressing his back. "Do you know how long I put this off? How awful I felt all that time? Honey, I know it's a big thing to a ask, from a man. All of you seem to think cumming is very important to you. But on the other hand I have rights as well. Do you expect me to put aside my own needs, just that you can fulfil yours?

He inhaled deeply and then exhaled again. He loved how his wife smelled.

"No..." he said, "Of course not."

Again there was a pause. An uneasy pause that seemed to last forever. He caressed her back as if to make time pass faster.

"You really mean this?" he said finally. "You really want me to stop cumming? Forever?"

"I really mean this" she answered. "I really want you to stop cumming. Forever."

"This means..." he said with uncertain voice. "We wouldn't have sex anymore?"

He heard his wife laugh and felt her letting go of him. She looked at him smiling. How he loved that face, that smile.

"No, silly," she said, caressing his neck with her fingers. "Of course we would. Lots and lots more, I hope."

He looked at her, completely lost now.

"But..."

"We will have lots of sex," she said, smiling, like the most happiest girl in the world. "You just won't penetrate me with your rape tool anymore. And you won't cum. You won't ever release that stinky load from your balls. Ever again. Ever never ever."

Every time she said "ever" or "never" he felt her fingers touch his neck, and every time he felt sinking in deeper and deeper into his wife's eyes, and to her voice.

"But what..."

"Oh, silly honey," she said, caressing her cheek and smiled as if he were a child. "You have such a limited idea of sex. There's lots and lots of other things to do than penetration. Come here."

With that she took hold of his hand and led her to the bed. She sat down and leaned her back to the headboard. She patted the sheet next to her. "Come here, sweetheart."

Feeling still a bit uneasy he joined his wife. Soon their bodies were entwined, his head resting on his wife's chest.

"Oh, I have such plans for us," she said, caressing his hair. "I will start training you, and making you the best cunnilingus expert there is. Or at least the best you are able to become. Pretty soon you will amaze there never was another way to experience an orgasm. I assure my orgasms will be more than enough for you."

He sighed deeply. This felt so good, to be so near to her, hear her talk to him so calmly, not at all angry anymore. He didn't like to hear her being angry, or displeased. It made him feel so uneasy. He merely wanted to please his wife. To do anything she wished. The aroma emanating from her was almost intoxicating. He slid his hand under his wife's nightgown, felt the smooth silky skin and hugged her tightly. He loved her so.

"I also think it will be very important for you to observe how it is done properly, by myself that is. I plan to start masturbating a lot around the house from now on. All the time. When we watch tv, before we go to bed, and on weekends most of the time. And you will watch me do it."

"But wouldn't it be rather... difficult for me?" he said, his face buried in the fabric of the nightgown, resting on his wife's chest. "Don't you fear I will get... you know, aroused?"

He heard his wife laugh, and felt the chest tremble under him.

"Oh honey, honey," she said, caressing his hair. "You truly are naive. Of course you will. I plan on it. That's the whole point."

"But what..." he said, puzzled, but his wife cut him off.

"Shhhh..." she said. "Do you remember that one night, during that week of ours, when you were allowed to masturbate, but not to shoot your revolting juice."

"Hmmmm," he said and nodded.

"Well, that was called edging," his wife said. "When you edge, you are allowed to masturbate, but only up till a point. After that you will cool down... and start again. The idea is to make you as horny as possible, but you will NOT cum. You will do a lot of that for me, I assure you."

"But... but, that's..."

"Fun?" she said caressing her neck. "Oh yes, it is. I can't wait to get started. It will be so much fun. I admit I was a bit mean to you earlier. I do like the sight of you masturbating. It is very erotic, in its own way. You look very handsome doing it, even."

He could feel the hand of his wife slide lower and she started to caress his back absentmindedly.

"But so far what has kept me from enjoying my handsome husband masturbating has been the knowledge, that sooner or later I will have to pay the price. Thinking of the yucky solution bulging in your bouncing balls, ready to spurt out of there, has made my tummy churn every time. It's very hard to think of erotic things when you're about to throw up."

"I... haven't realized," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, honey, I know" she said. "But from now on it will all be different. You will jerk off and edge yourself for me, for hours if necessary, and I will masturbate in front of you at the same time, having a glorious orgasm after another, enjoying it fully, and getting off on the knowledge you can't spill your trouser grime ever again. Enjoying your suffering."

"Enjoying my suffering?" he said and tried to get up but his wife's gentle touch kept him in place.

"Shhhh, honey" she said in a soothing voice. "Don't get upset. I want to talk about this like adults. You wouldn't believe how hot the idea has made me that past few months, how many orgasms I've had, thinking how it will be if... no, WHEN you will agree to my terms. When I can really make you stop from spilling that wiener slush of yours. And to make you suffer, so much."

She let out a long sigh and smiled, with excitement in her voice.

"Oh, honey! Just think about it! You will be SO frustrated sexually! And I will enjoy observing it, and making it as difficult as possible for you. I will keep you constantly horny, and desperately craving for a release that will never, ever come!"

He felt her cool, long fingers grasping his hair as she continued.

"God, my pussy is getting soaking wet right now, merely talking about it. You should feel proud, honey, for being able to make a woman you love this wet. Merely by her thinking how magnificent it will be to torment you, to make your life a living hell. I will make it my goal on life from now on, honey."

She had a little pause.

"You wouldn't want to take that pleasure away from me, would you?"

He sighed again, completely lost in what was his wife. Her words, her smell, the feel of her body.

"No... of course not."

He heard his wife sigh as well.

"And you'd be amazed what human mind, and body will get used to," she said. "I've done considerable amount of reading lately. On the effects of long term chastity. In few short months your mind will become clearer, no longer shadowed by the expectation of your next ejaculation. Constantly thinking about when and how you can shoot your schlong dung again.

"Really?" he said.

"Yes, really. It sounds a very... well, tranquil state of mind. After all, hundreds and hundreds of men have done it over the centuries, for religious reasons. But some do it for sexual reasons as well. You'd be amazed the number of men who are into permanent chastity. Men who haven't released their idiot slime for years and years. Naturally I will make sure you won't be TOO tranquil. Quite the opposite, I want you to be constantly horny."

"How?" he said, even though he didn't whether he'd like the answer.

"Well, let's just say our nights will be so much more interesting from now on. As well as your life in general. I think I will start wearing more revealing clothes around the house. Things that will show off my beautiful body as much as possible. You'd like that, dear? I think you would. And I will masturbate. A lot, just like I told you. I want you to constantly understand, to be constantly reminded, what you're missing out on."

His wife voice remained excited as she continued.

"Oh, honey! We will do so much together from now on! We will start watching porn movies chosen by me. We will do it every night, and I will send you to buy them for us, of course. While we watch them I will masturbate and you will edge for me, or do magic with your tongue. I will also make you pamper me in so many ways. You will bathe me, give me massages, take care of my feet and hair. You would like that, wouldn't you dear?"

"Yes, honey," he said meekly.