I love pearls. I have a jewelry box devoted entirely to pearls. The bottom is lined with thick, black velvet boxes that contain the really good sets - the ones handed down from my grandmother, or the ones given to me by a lover. Those I reserve for special occasions. But on top of that is a tangled mass of strands, all different colors, white, black, pale pink, silver, gold, all waiting to be taken out and played with because yes - these are my "play" pearls. I don't know what it is about a strand of pearls hanging low between my breasts, but whatever it is, I definitely like the reaction I get when I put them on. And I don't know a woman who doesn't feel just a little bit more feminine and sexy with pearls sliding over her skin.
I saw an article recently about pleasuring your lover with pearls and because I'm a pearl girl, I had to check it out. There were some fantastic ideas listed, including tying your lover up with pearls (of course, it has to be more "pretend" than "real" bondage, unless you both want to end up tripping on pearlescent beads like a couple of Warner Brothers cartoons!) She even talked about penetrating a woman with pearls, which was a rather sexy thought, but then the article ended and I thought, "Hey! Wait a minute! You forgot something!" Or more to the point -
someone.
This bi-girl had focused on the female, but the masculine had been completely overlooked!
And you know me... we just can't have that!
What happened to the combination of pearls and cock? Because that, folks, is a marriage made in pleasure heaven, and my husband can attest to it firsthand! Well, he could, if he were here... but I guess since he's not, you'll have to hear it secondhand, from the perspective of the giver rather than the receiver.
In order to really give you the real how-to about cock and pearls, I thought I'd better do a little bit more research and practice, just to be sure I had the techniques down so I could relay them to all of you.
"You don't mind, do you?" I asked my husband, standing naked in front of the mirror and slinging strands of pearls around my neck, all different colors and lengths.
"Anything in the name of science." Mr. Kitt leaned back naked on the bed, his cock straightening toward full mast with every new pearly addition at my throat.
I knelt between his thighs, biting my lip and admiring the gentle throb of the member I was assessing, wondering just exactly how to proceed. I had an idea, but ideas don't always work in practice, which is why I was venturing on this experiment - he and I were going to be guinea pigs - without all the fur and squeaking. Mostly.
"Hand me the K-Y." I always call lube "K-Y" even when it's not... just like I call tissues "Kleenex."
There is always a trusty (and sometimes crusty) tube of lube in each of our bedside drawers - well, except for the one time we went looking for it and couldn't find it on either side, and later found that our three-year-old had mistaken it for Purell and was "washing" her babies' faces with it. Thankfully, I was the one who found it, and not the babysitter... or Grandma! We've since invested in the edible kind - I love the cherry! - but we remember to "hide" it better in the drawers...
"Oh god..." His voice brought me back to the present as I warmed the lube in my hands and began to stroke, not in any hurry, still contemplative. His eyes closed as I rolled my hand around the length, thumbing the head, slicking him up. He looked at me when I leaned over him, teasing his cock with the strands of pearls and my breasts as I kissed my way over his belly.
"Ready?"
He just nodded, watching as I squeezed more lube into my hand and began to lube up a long, white strand of pearls hanging around my neck. When I leaned in and began to wrap it around his cock, however, we ran into a snag.