The sun has just set outside our house. It's chilly tonight, with the overnight low predicted to be in the teens, and there are still several inches of unmelted snow along the edges of the roads and covering our yard. Inside, however, it is enticingly warm. All afternoon you've kept the flames dancing steadily in the two-sided fireplace that opens to both our den and our bedroom. Its warmth spread all the way through the house to my study, where I spent the afternoon at my computer, trying diligently to concentrate on the work I brought home to do over the weekend.
My concentration was impaired, however, despite my good intentions. I'd like to blame you for this, but the truth is that I was a willing participant in my own distractedness this afternoon. I could have gotten a lot more work done today had I not let myself become so aroused by the sensations emanating from my erect nipples.
All afternoon my nipples have been more sensitive than usual, due to the black rubber rings still in place at the base of each one. These aren't the small tight bands that turn my nipples dark purple from the constriction, since I can wear those only for about 10 minutes at a time. Instead, these are the second-to-largest size bands in our collection, and you usually make me wear them between three and five hours. They hold my nipples erect and increase their sensitivity, but without causing any pain or cutting off the circulation.
They've been on for just over four hours now. That means I've already had four hours of non-stop reminding that my body belongs to you.
When you put them on me earlier, you took charge, as usual.
"Face me and take your shirt off." I did. "Take your bra off." I did. "Lift up your right breast in your hand." I did. "Lift it higher - hold it up to me." And of course, I did. You used the bulb-style suction pump for easier application of the rubber rings, squeezing the bulb then placing the opening of the clear plastic cylinder over my nipple. When you released the bulb, the vacuum it created pulled on my nipple, elongating and thickening it. The sensation caused me to suck in my breath and clench my pussy in desire, because it turns me on immensely to have my nipples sucked on. While you held the cylinder in place, we both watched a few tiny drops of fluid slowly emerge from the milk duct orifices in my nipple, coaxed out by the suction pump.
(This fluid production has become commonplace for me, even though I weaned my last child more than 10 years ago. As long as the nipple fluid appears from both breasts, and only during/after our activities involving extensive breast stimulation, and as long as there are no other unusual symptoms (hard lumps, tender spots, red streaks, etc.) that are not obvious results of our physical activities, my doctor has assured me that it is completely normal. You laughed and rolled your eyes when an online source informed us that it used to be called "whore's milk.")
The suction pump had the two thin black rubber rings encircling the cylinder below the bulb. Once my nipple was fully elongated into the cylinder, you carefully rolled one of the black rings down off the cylinder and onto the base of my nipple. As the ring closed into its new position on my areola, the plastic cylinder popped off my breast. With one finger, you gently brushed the tip of my nipple, making my knees go weak. My breathing was already fast by this point.
"Mmmm," you sighed as you rubbed the few drops of fluid into the sensitive tissue, a half-smile on your lips, and I watched as your eyes moved from my breast to my face. When your eyes met mine, I felt the familiar jolt of lust - much like electricity - and apparently you did too, since you suddenly looked very hungry, and bent down to kiss my lips. You placed one hand on the back of my head, running your fingers up under my hair, and pulled my mouth tightly against yours. Oh, Christ, I so love being the object of your desire. Your attentions and affections make me feel desirable, and special, and loved.
You repeated the entire process on my left breast, taking your time...squeezing the bulb, applying the cylinder, making sure the nipple was fully extended into the cylinder before you rolled down the other black rubber ring, lightly rubbing the wet nipple with your finger. Once both rings were in place, you teased me for several minutes by flicking the tip of your tongue back and forth across my bound nipples, first telling me to place my hands on your shoulders and hold very still. I obeyed, as I always try to do, but it was an effort not to move during those very, very long minutes as your talented tongue took turns with both my breasts.
Once you had me so aroused I could hardly remain standing, you told me to put my shirt on - without a bra - and get back to work at my computer. And although this felt like a form of sexual torture, I somehow managed to put in almost four hours sitting at my desk. Unfortunately, most of that time was spent unproductively rereading paragraphs that blurred together in a meaningless collection of words. My body kept sending signals to my brain that there was something much more interesting going on elsewhere.
When you were ready, you came into my study and stood behind me, putting your hands on my shoulders and using your thumbs to massage my tight upper trapezius muscles. I sighed in relief, both from the kneading and from the knowledge that I could finally leave my computer. Kissing the top of my head gently, you said, "let's go." I stood up and followed you into our bedroom, my pulse quickening as I wondered what you had in mind for tonight.
At your instruction, I removed my shirt again and then all the rest of my clothes. The heat from the fireplace kept me from feeling cold, in spite of the wind I could hear outside, blowing the sparse tree branches into our windows like a cat scratching to get indoors. You stood in front of me, admiring my naked form. Licking your lips, you picked up one of the floggers on the dresser.
