Trained to Her Command

For some months now, I'd noticed some changes in wife's behavior. We've been married for four years and the glow has worn off our marriage, but I always thought that we'd find a way for it to come back. After all, we're both still quite young—I'm 34 and she's only 28—and in pretty good shape. I'm a little on the short side at 5' 7", but slim and still have most of my hair. At 5'10", Jan is quite tall for a woman and has always made it a point to emphasize her advantage, sometimes jokingly calling me 'little man' or 'shorty' or saying how she could wrestle me down if she ever wanted to. (I especially didn't much like her saying that because I worried that she was also referring to the size of my 5" cock, which I've always wished was bigger.)

In addition to her impressive stature, with regular workouts at the local aerobics place, she has maintained her knockout figure—36D, 28, 40. I've seen men look her up and down, from her long muscular legs to her trim waist, her voluptuous breasts, and up to her beautiful, shoulder-length brunette hair, green eyes and confident, attractive smile.

Little do passing admirers know that her greatest feature is a glorious pussy which always feels sensational and matches the most lurid pornographer's dreams, with very plump, full, meaty pussy lips that swell up and become moist at a moment's notice, complemented by the biggest clit I had ever seen, that seems to be constantly erect and pokes out proudly from her cleft.

She keeps her pussy nicely trimmed, leaving just a brief tangle of hair on her especially prominent, well-padded mons that provides lots of cushion to accommodate powerful, strong thrusts when she's having sex.

Because of her generous-sized pussy, it's always a challenge for her to wear a swimsuit without becoming obscene—many times on the beach I've had to let her know that part of her labia has worked its way out the side of her bikini and become exposed. Even when she manages to keep everything covered, the bulge in the bottom half of her bikini is so prominent, so full, it garners lots of attention.

I know some men prefer women with small-lipped pussies that barely amount to a ripple of flesh between their legs. For me, however, there's nothing more sexy than those big swollen lips hanging between her legs, that I can suck into my mouth or caress with my hands, extending over two inches when I tug down on them.

Anyway, as newlyweds, we had sex several times a week, but after the first couple of years, that diminished to once or twice a week. I was working longer hours and not feeling quite as energetic or young as I once had.

Then in the last several months, our frequency declined further, as Jan began complaining of a headache, or of being too tired, or having especially bothersome cramps, or of not feeling "in the mood." I sensed something was wrong, but I didn't know what it was.

During these past few months, when I would ask her for sex, she usually denied me, telling me that I could wait and not to complain. Sometimes though, she would relent, but never as if she were really enjoying it, as she used to. She began making me get some K-Y jelly for a lubricant and wouldn't put up with any petting or touching to get warmed up first.

Neither would she touch me or help me get fully erect. I was just supposed to lube up my cock and make sure it was hard enough, sometimes rubbing it a few times if I wasn't fully erect, and then enter her pussy and have my orgasm.

She would act bored, as if she didn't like what we were doing and was letting me screw her out of obligation.

She also got into the habit of getting me to come as quickly as possible, telling me, "don't take too long, I'm tired," or saying, "aren't you almost finished yet?" It became very clear that she wasn't getting anything out of the sex at all.

With her encouragement, I learned to bring myself off quicker and quicker. Sometimes I would even rub myself for a few minutes while she was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, so that I would be ready to come at a moment's notice and wouldn't bother her much. I became proud that I could lose my load so quickly.

She encouraged this attitude, saying, "let's see how quickly you can come this time," or "try to make it shoot as fast as you can," as if I was her toy or plaything and she was conducting an experiment.

Looking back, I realize that she was subtly changing this routine over the course of several months. She became more dominating, and, rather than acting bored, it was as if she were beginning to enjoy being in control and giving me commands.

She seemed to enjoy the embarrassment I felt when I asked for permission to have sex, responding with a little smirk and clucking her tongue in mild disapproval, or saying something like, "So your little cock wants some attention?" Soon she got into the habit of telling me how many strokes she was going to let me have.

At first she would tell me how many strokes, maybe 30 or something like that, but she wouldn't count them out loud until near the end, when she would start giving me little news flashes: "Ok, you've got 10 strokes left," or, "5 left, little man, better make it happen soon."

Strangely, I found it very exciting to hear her commands. When she called me 'little man' now, I knew that she was making fun of by 5" cock, but I couldn't very well object, knowing that it was short and that she deserved a bigger one for her own pleasure.

As I adjusted to her increasing dominance and being told how many strokes to take, she steadily began decreasing the number of strokes she would allow me. And she started counting down each stroke, "I'll bet you can come this time in just 12 strokes", and then she would count down from 12, encouraging me at the same time: "Ok, 12 . . . 11. . . come on, baby, you have to do it, 9 . . . just a few more strokes now, 8, better make it happen for your little dick, 7, I know you can't last much longer . . . 6 . . . just a few more, let's get it over with, . . .4. . . you're not getting any extra, . . 3 . . . ok, squirter, almost there, 2 . . . 1, ok, NOW! Shoot off, baby! Let out that come! Sperm inside me, little man! Shoot it!"

Then she would add, "There, there, that's it. Your little cock is done. Now we can get to sleep." I would always feel great relief after my ejaculation, but I'd also feel ashamed, too, recognizing how much control she had begun to have over me and how little I was providing for her own sexual relief.

A few times I made the mistake of telling her ahead of time how horny I was, and she would reduce the number of strokes allowed, saying, "Ok, you're only getting 5 strokes tonight." One time I complained to her about this, and she replied, "Too bad. If you want to come you'd better jerk your little prick off for a while first, because you're only getting 5 strokes, and you're lucky to get that with the way you're acting and what you're packing."

Another time, I guess to show me how little of an impact I was having upon her sexually, she left the bedside light on and continued reading her book while I pumped her. I didn't know whether to be glad or sad about this development.

While it was nice to not be limited to a certain number of strokes, with the accompanying fear of not having quite enough time to be able to finish, I also found myself missing her words, her commands, rather, or encouragement—it had gotten so that I just wasn't as excited without her giving me commands and telling me when to come.

It took me quite a bit longer and took more effort than usual to bring myself off.

Around this time, too, I noticed that I didn't seem to be feeling her pussy nearly as much as I had in the past, as if it had stretched out some on the inside. She may have noticed this, too, because she began putting her legs close together as soon as I entered her pussy, which greatly increased the friction and helped me to ejaculate that much quicker.

After that episode, she made it a practice to take complete charge of my orgasms. She told me that I must never masturbate without her approval, that every orgasm I had would be with her permission and when she tells me. She knows me well enough that she can tell from my movements, from the look on my face, when I'm getting close, so she became expert at telling me to come the moment I was ready.

Once she had established this ritual, it was very easy for her to begin making me come earlier and earlier, so that, after only a few weeks, if I had stopped to think about it, I would have realized how helpless and completely under her control I had become. Like one of Pavlov's dogs, I had been completely trained to a specific stimulus.

In my case, it was her strong voice of command. I would come almost immediately upon entering her, always within just a few strokes, the moment she commanded me to. The things she said at these times, too, was a little embarrassing at first: "shoot it, little man," "make it come," "squirt for me," "do it, now," "go ahead and come," or "squirt your little dick."

Another thing that changed during this time was what happened after I came. She never let me remain inside of her or relax in post-orgasmic bliss. Rather, she started getting into the habit of making me be the one to clean her up after sex: "you're the one who makes the mess, so you should be the one to clean it up."

I would have to get some Kleenex from the bathroom and then she would spread her legs and I would have to crawl in between them and wipe up all the come oozing out of her pussy. She had me make sure that I had wiped up all the mess, even having to wait with my face near her pussy for a few minutes in case any more semen was going to come out.

I felt like her personal servant as she instructed me to clean her thoroughly, even spreading her enormous, swollen labia so that I could clean her up completely. The smell of her pussy was amazingly strong and always got me a bit excited again and started me dreaming about being allowed to have another round. For some couples, this might have been the makings of an interlude, with things heating up and more screwing taking place immediately afterwards. For me and Jan, this was simply another of the duties I had, in exchange for being allowed to spunk inside her.

Just as I became used to this ritual, I reached over one night to grab a Kleenex, only to discover that the box was empty. I started to say something to Jan, but she looked over at me and simply said, "you're going to have to clean it up without any help this time." I stared up at her from between her legs, not knowing what she meant, then I started to get up to go to the bathroom to get some tissue, but she firmly guided my head back down between her legs and pushed my face into her especially wet pussy.

I realized too late that this was one of those nights after which she had made me wait for over a week without any sex, so I knew that I had shot what was, for me, an especially big load.

After my initial disgust, I quickly got busy cleaning her up and, although I didn't like the idea of sucking out my own come, I did appreciate and enjoy, very much, being allowed to do something for her in such an intimate way. I felt good servicing her and cleaning her up and hoped that she was appreciating what I was doing and even enjoying it.

This change in procedures quickly became the norm, and whenever she allowed me to shoot off into her, she immediately made me go down on her and suck out all of the fluids. Or she would have me lie on my back so she could sit on my face, something she had never done previously, pressing her big wet pussy against me, urging me to "suck out all that nasty mess" I had made.

In this position, which she seemed to enjoy, she would slide around on my mouth and nose, occasionally even cutting off all my air supply for a few moments, laughing and teasing me, "oh, does my little man need some air?," then she'd give me time to gasp for a quick breath before planting herself again on my nose and mouth to torture me some more.

I got so that I really loved the taste of her pussy, and I remember being surprised, quite often, at how much I had managed to deposit into her. Sometimes it seemed as if I had consumed as much as a half a cup of that warm, sweet, spermy mess.

I thought about this quite a bit, wondering why there was so much more of it sometimes than others, why I was shooting so much more than I used to, but I reasoned to myself that it much of it was her secretions as well, and perhaps she was getting into more recently. At any rate, that was our pattern for several months: about twice a week, she would have me get myself stiff and ready and well-lubed, then, after telling me to "hurry along," she would make me ejaculate after just a few well-trained strokes, at her command—usually it took no more than half a dozen strokes, and then I would have to suck out all of the come before I could go to sleep.

Soon, however, she seemed to grow tired of this routine and changed it once again. One night as I asked if I could "go in her," she curtly told me, "no," saying that my cock just wasn't doing anything for her.

For several nights in a row, she continued to deny me, then, finally, she offered to "use her hand" on me if I wanted. Desperate, I quickly agreed. She asked me to get the 'k-y' and had me lie down in bed. Sitting up next to me, she coolly began jacking me off, using the same techniques of urging me to hurry up, to shoot my sperm so we could finish. In a matter of just a few strokes, she had me spurting a big load of come all over her hand and my belly.

Dazed with relief, I lay still for a moment recovering, but that only gave her time to begin scooping up my come and feeding it into my mouth. I tried to turn my head away, but she held me still and forced me to take it, telling me that I was "responsible for the mess and had to take care of it". At this point, I didn't even protest and simply allowed her to feed me my own come.

This quickly became the norm for our lovemaking, and though I missed being able to fuck her beautiful pussy and then to clean it out, I felt such relief from her expert masturbating methods that I didn't complain and accepted the changes once again. Her favorite technique, which always made me come in a matter of seconds, was to encircle the base of my well-lubed cock with one hand, while pulling down on the skin to make it very tight, then to jack me hard with the other hand.

The taut feeling of the skin on my cock being pulled down and then her smooth, firm hand sliding over my cock quickly got me off. I remember feeling almost paralyzed from the intense pleasure of the moment, wanting to prolong it, but then she would issue her command for me to come and it would all be over right away.

When she made me come this way, Jan would giggle to herself, at her power over me, or my own helplessness, I suppose. I would feel embarrassed, and know that something wasn't right, but I felt powerless to change things. The only favor she granted was that when she jacked me off, she would remove her panties and, sitting next to me, would keep her legs spread wide so that I got a great view of her beautiful pussy and could smell its wonderful, powerful aroma. Sometimes she would play with herself a bit, spreading her labia and exposing all her wet, pink surfaces to my view.

To show off her power over me, I suppose, sometimes she would stop while she was stroking me, just as I was ready to come, and smirking down at me, tease me that I was going to come with just one more stroke, "you can't even last a few more strokes, can you, lover boy? You'll do whatever I'll say, won't you?" Then she would take one more stroke, up and down with her well-greased hand, and simply say, "shoot it now!" And, humiliated, I would. Then I would hungrily gobble up all the come off her fingers and suck them clean.

Every time she jerked me off, as soon as I had 'cleaned up my mess,' I would almost immediately fall into a deep sleep, overcome by the power of the orgasm and the accompanying relief of my balls being relieved of their full state. Then in the middle of the night, I would wake up to find that she had gotten horny and was forcing herself upon my face, presenting me with her beautiful wet pussy to suck on. I assumed that jerking me off had given her a sexy dream that had awakened her and that she needed relief herself.

This became an ingrained part of our routine, too, and I got used to being waked up out of a deep sleep with a juicy, sopping wet pussy to suck on. She was very wet on those nights, so much so that I usually found myself swallowing mouthfuls of her tasty drippings just to keep up and to keep it from running down my face and neck and soiling the bed.

I enjoyed these middle of the night get-togethers, though I missed the sleep, but I wondered about them, too, because she didn't usually keep me going long enough for her to have an orgasm, just enough so that I could taste her a bit and swallow her come.

The next morning, I'd wake up and everything would be back to normal, with Jan rushing off to work and me wondering what I could do to bring her back closer to me. I asked her a few times if we could try to get each other off at the same time, but she dismissed my requests and told me that she liked it this way and liked waking me up and giving me a 'little something to eat in the middle of the night'.

One morning, running late for work myself after she had already left, I was putting together a load of dirty clothes for the laundry, thinking that I'd help her out some, and I discovered a pair of her panties in the dirty clothes hamper. The dirty crotch of the panties stared up at me and I couldn't help but notice they seemed to be covered, soaked in semen stains.

Now, this made me wonder. I knew that we hadn't had sex in weeks—all I was getting was a twice-weekly jerk-off session. So how did all that come get there?

I resolved to stay awake next time she masturbated me and to see what happened. With that focus in mind, I managed to stay awake, although I shut my eyes and breathed deeply for a few minutes, to convince her that I was sound asleep. Several minutes passed, yet she remained on the bed, and I began to wonder if it was just my imagination.

Yet just I felt myself starting to drift off for real, I felt the bed shift and realized that she was getting up. I stayed quiet, and motionless, and listened carefully. I heard her briefly go into the bathroom, then begin making her way downstairs and out the front door. At this point, I quickly got up, threw on some clothes I had left out, and began following her. I worried at first about how I would work this out if she got into her car, so I was relieved to see that she was just walking around the block, which is where the gym she attends is located.

I turned the corner just in time to see her disappear into the front door of the gym, even though the sign in the winder read, "closed".

I followed quietly behind, and stopping at the open door to the workout room, I was greeted with a sight that would have been unimaginable to me—my beautiful wife, having quickly stripped off the few clothes she had on, had immediately begun sucking on the cock of large, well-built man, whom I recognized as the owner of the gym. This went on for a minute or two, until she had gotten him nice and hard, I suppose, and then she lay back down on floor and, with her legs well apart, used both her hands to fully spread and expose her beautiful pussy to him.

I was standing in the darkened hallway, mesmerized by what was taking place before me. Then when the man, who previously had his back turned mostly toward me, moved toward her, he turned slightly and I was able to see his huge cock, which I had been wondering about.