Clitching Powder

Go to work on the bus. Come home. Kiss wife. Have diner. Spend the evening in front of the TV with the family. Go to bed. Do it all over again.

That seemed to be my life. I remembered, years ago, when my wife and I first got to together we had sex all the time. Then she started to lose interest. Then I started to lose interest because it was too much effort to try and make her interested. Throw in a couple of kids and we had settled down to domestic boredom.

Oh, I know, some guys see hookers or have affairs but that's not my style. I resent the thought of paying money for sex and if I had an affair - who the hell would I have it with anyway - she would know in a nanosecond because I suck at keeping secrets from her.

I'm not saying we never had sex but it wasn't often. Maybe once a month. I could have separated but there were kids to be considered and they came first above anything.

Don't get me wrong. I loved my wife to bits - we were the best of friends - and I loved my kids dearly but, every so often, I would wonder where it all went wrong.

Things changed not long after my son's twelfth birthday. I work in the top end of town as an accountant. Big business and all that. Up the street and around the corner there is a boutique sex shop. The sort where attractive, sex-positive women work rather than sleazy old farts.

Anyway, every so often I would wander through it a bit forlornly, wishing Sally and I (that's my wife by the way) could make use of it. That day, I felt the need to have a perv and wish.

I looked at all the various vibrators, butt plugs, sex toys and stuff I didn't even want to know about. I was stopped dead in my tracks as my eye was drawn to a small bottle labelled 'Clitching Powder', locked in a glass cabinet. I tried reading the details but the print was a bit small and the angle awkward, so I was none the wiser.

I was curious though. Don't know why. I just was. After a while my curiosity got the better of me and I asked the girl behind the counter.

"Um, er, excuse me, but what's that clitching powder in the cabinet over there?" as I pointed in its direction.

"Oh that, it's brilliant stuff. I use it myself quite often. What you do is put it on a women's clit and it creates an intense sexual itch. It makes the women start to lubricate, which dissolves it so it's absorbed by the skin. This makes the clit become very engorged and throb. It's so intense that the women absolutely has to masturbate. Lots. Takes a couple of hours to wear off."

"You're kidding, aren't you?" I asked incredulously.

"Oh no, it really does work. Sometimes I get my boyfriend to tie me spread on the bed and apply the powder. In half an hour I'm throbbing and squirming so badly that I'm absolutely begging him to fuck me and lick me and do anything else he likes if only to relieve the itch."

In the meantime she stepped out from behind the counter, unlocked the glass door and handed me the bottle.

"The other great thing about it is your engorged clit makes you really, really multi orgasmic. I just explode over and over again and beg for more. I know a lot of other women report similar results."

I looked at the bottle and frowned. $79. It wasn't a very big bottle but it was a lot of money.

"Do you have a partner?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Then I can guarantee if you buy that you'll be back here in three to four months buying another bottle and thinking how cheap it is."

"You don't say," I said sarcastically.

"Yes, I really do."

She frowned a bit.

"You need to be a bit careful though. If you use too much too often it can make the clitching permanent. Well, not permanent but you have to stop. Takes about a week to wear off. If you don't stop and keep dusting it can become dangerous and cause harm. Also, in case you're wondering, it has no effect on men. Don't know why, it just doesn't."

I think I was going through one of those 'where did it go wrong' moods. I just thought to myself, 'what the hell, if it works great, if not it's only 79 bucks.' So, I did one of my rare, spur of the moment things, and bought it.

I bussed home trying to devise all sorts of ways to sneak it onto Sally's clit. Domestic boredom got in the way though and it was nearly a month before I got a chance.

...

It was a Saturday evening and we were planning to go to a bar to meet up with some friends we'd known for years. As Sally was in the shower I got an idea. She'd already laid out her clothes to wear, including underwear, when inspiration struck. I grabbed the bottle from where I'd hid it and gave the inside of her undies a puff of the stuff. I shook any dregs free but hoped enough had caught in the weave of the fabric to do the job. That's if the stuff worked anyway.

'Yeah, fat chance,' I thought depressingly.

It was a fifteen minute drive to the bar and as I drove I noticed Sally was starting to squirm on the seat.

'Hmm, maybe this stuff does work,' I wondered.

"You ok dear?"

"Yes, I'm fine, why do you ask?"

"You just seem a bit fidgety."

"It's nothing, just my... never mind, keep driving."

As soon as we got to the bar she disappeared off into the ladies room. I crossed my fingers that the stuff might be actually working.

I found us a corner table and waited for our friends and Sally to appear. Sally appeared first slightly breathless. She sat down beside me and put her hand seductively on my thigh.

"Haven't heard from them yet?" she purred.

"Not a peep."

"Well, I hope they get here"... she bit her lip and I could feel her squeezing her thighs together while she squeezed mine with her hand.

"Are you ok dear?" I asked in my most innocent voice.

"Yes," she panted. "It's just that I'm feeling... I'm feeling... so.. I gotta go."

And with that she abruptly got up and headed to the ladies again.

A minute later my mobile rang. It was Sally.

"Sally, what's going on?"

"John, ring Mary and Stewart. Please give our apologies and cancel on them and then get me and take us home."

"Um, ok Sally but what's going on?"

"I'll tell you in the... oh God.. " I could hear heavy puffing over the phone. "Just cancel and take me home."

I rang and cancelled and as I headed towards the car Sally joined me.

As we drove back she hiked her skirt up and thrust her fingers into her panties.

"Oh god, I'm so horny. When we get back fuck me. Fuck me good and proper. Eat me out. My clit is on fire."

She babbled after that as she came over and over again.

As soon as we got back into the house she was all over me, trying to tear her clothes off and mine at the same time. We barely made it to the bedroom as we fell onto the bed in a naked tangled heap. She pushed me flat on the bed, climbed on top of me and then shoved her pussy into my face while her mouth engulfed my cock. Even in our early days she had never been this forward or aroused.

I lapped her clit and she came constantly, smearing my face with her juices. She was dripping like a faucet. My cock was as hard as a rock.

She suddenly got off me, lay flat on her back.

"Get on me now, I need you inside me. Fuck me!"

I didn't need any more prompting. It was heavenly. My cock slid in so easily, she was that wet. The muscles in her pussy griped my cock like a vice and started rhythmically stroking my cock as I fucked her as hard and fast as I could. She was exploding in orgasms non-stop. Is it any wonder I didn't last long before I exploded myself. I kept fucking her though. It was good exercise.

...

My cock had finally died out from all the fucking but inside I could hear myself shouting, 'yes, yes, yes!'

Sally was lying naked on the bed, her pussy covered in her juices and dripping cum. She was panting; trying to catch her breath from the last of god knows how many orgasms.

"David," she huffed, "that was wonderful. I haven't felt this way in years. I don't know if I've ever felt this way before."

"It was great, wasn't it? I hope we can do this again soon."

She gave me a penetrating look. "OK, what's going on? You're up to something."

As I said, I suck at keeping secrets from her.

I umed and ered but finally hung my head sheepishly. "Yeah, actually there is. It's called clitching powder."

"Itching powder?" she replied in puzzlement.

"No, clitching powder. Hang on and I'll show you."

I got up from the bed and retrieved the bottle from where I'd hidden it. I gave it to her along with the sheet of instructions that came with it. She started reading it.

"You! You!" She was almost inarticulate with anger. "You put this on me?"

Suddenly I was afraid, very afraid, that I'd crossed the line and there was no going back.

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again. I promise. But I wanted us back to how we first were. I missed that so much."

She was beyond listening though as she burst into tears.

"Get out!" she cried. "Go on, get out. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. How dare you do this to me."

I almost ran to our guest room, where I spent the night. Faintly in the background I could hear her masturbating as she cleared the last effects of the powder.

She avoided me all Sunday. On Monday morning she'd calmed down but was still very angry.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!"

To make her point she threw the bottle in the bin.

"Don't worry," I said fervently. "I promise I wont ever do that again."

"Good. In that case I forgive you."

Then she gave me a chaste peck on the cheek and waived me off to work.

She may have forgiven me but things had changed between us. The days rolled into weeks with no sex between us. She just wasn't interested. In me it felt like something had died. For a brief moment I'd tasted what it could be like to have it back and now it felt like this was going to be denied forever. I think what had died was hope.

I felt a growing sense of being trapped. I wouldn't see other women. My morals simply wouldn't allow that. It was hard to find enough privacy to masturbate. I even started thinking about leaving her. My love for the kids held that thought in check. I could never desert them.

It all took it's toll on me. Deep within me, the love that I'd felt for her started to crumble and be replaced by frustration and even hate. A small voice inside my head kept saying she was no longer my lover or even my partner but my jailer. We stopped talking as a blue funk of despair fell over my life.

...

I couldn't stand it any more. I didn't know what was wrong with John but the tension between us was terrible. No, not the tension, the emptiness, the distance.

I'd spoken to Mary about it and she'd given me the name of a good councillor she'd used before. I made an appointment to see her.

...

"Hello Sally, nice to meet you. You can call me Elana."

She indicated a plush couch in her office.

"Please, have a seat so we can talk."

She sat on the couch with me. On the coffee table in front of us was a large box of tissues.

"OK Sally, what brings you here?"

"Well, it's John really. My husband. We just seem to have been growing apart in the last few years but it's got really bad over the last couple of months. He's so distant and morose. I just can't stand the emptiness between us."

"I see," Elana answered slowly. "I really think this is the sort of problem where both of you should be here. Have you tried talking to him?"

"Yes, but he just denies anything is wrong. I don't know what to do. I don't think there's any way I could get him to come here."

"Hmm OK. You say it's got really bad over the last couple of months. Did anything happen then?"

"Well, he used that stupid clitching powder on me. We had an awful row after that."

"Hmm, clitching power. I've heard about that. Why don't you tell me the details of what happened."

Ten minutes later I'd told her the whole story. I could see her mulling it over in her head.

"I find it significant him saying - 'I want it back the way it was'. Very significant. Tell me, when was the last time you had sex?"

"Well, not since he used that stupid powder."

"What about before that? How often were you having sex."

"Um, I dunno. Maybe once a month or something like that."

"Hmm, OK. What about when you first got together? How often were you having sex?"

"Oh, quite a lot. Most nights I guess."

"Was the sex good then? Did you enjoy it?"

A whistful smile crossed my face.

"Yeah, it was pretty good. Great even."

Then the smile was gone.

"Well it sounds like he would like sex more often. So what happened? Why aren't you having sex most nights?"

I snorted in contempt.

"God, men and their desire for sex. I suppose I just lost interest. Working, kids, maintaining a house, keeping up with our friends and social life. It just seems by the time I get to bed I'm too tired to bother."

"Does John work?"

"Yes he does."

"Does he help around the house?"

"Yes."

"So he should be just as tired but he still desires sex?"

"I suppose so. Yes he does."

"I was mostly having it with him before just to keep him happy," I added sourly.

"Hmm, OK. Did you resent that?"

"Yeah, I suppose I did a bit."

Elana shook her head sadly.

"Sally, I think it's pretty obvious what's going on here. I've seen this sort of problem quite a few times before. One partner in the relationship wants sex a lot more than the other. It's not always the man. Anyway, it can cause a great deal of friction and damage to a relationship. Even wreck it."

"So, you're saying this is my fault," I said angrily.

Elana shook her head.

"Sally, I don't like using the word fault. That implies blame which gets in the way of fixing things. You do have a problem though and you have to acknowledge you are as much a part of the problem as John is. Until you do that there's nothing that can be done to resolve the issues and if they aren't resolved soon the damage to your marriage may become irrepairable."

I looked at her open mouthed. There was a growing knot of fear in the gut of my stomach.

"Consider it from John's point of view. You won't acknowledge you are part of the problem. Because of this he knows there's no point in trying to talk to you. In an act of desperation he used the powder on you. It was wrong of him to do it but he didn't know what else to do. Now it's reached the point where he's emotionally withdrawing in much the same way you have sexually withdrawn. Your withdrawl is hurting him as much as his withdrawl is hurting you."

She looked at me sharply.

"The question becomes, do you want things to stay the way they are, which will only get worse, or - do you want things 'back the way they were' to quote John?"

I burst into tears. Elana held my hands comforting me while she handed me tissues.

"I want him back," I sobbed. "I want him back. I can't stand it like this. I don't want to lose him. He's my life and there's the kids to think of as well."

"Then what are you prepared to do to get him back? The ball's in your court."

"I don't know what to do," I wailed.

"Hmm, well maybe John found the answer for you."

My head snapped up as realisation crashed through my brain. Then I laughed. Elana nodded approvingly.

...

I climbed wearily into bed. Strangely, Sally got into bed with me naked. Something she hadn't done for ages. Then she looked at me with a mysterious smile on her face.

"John, I really do love you, you know."

"I love you to," I replied mechanically.

A look of sadness, followed by resolve, crossed her face. Then she smiled queerly. I wondered where she was going with this.

"I have a present for you. It's in the drawer of your bedside table. Go on, have a look."

I turned, opened the drawer, and pulled out a small, gift wrapped package.

"Hurry dear, open it up."

There was a strange, hungry look on her face.

I pulled off the wrapping and was amazed to see a bottle of clitching powder. My hand was almost shaking as I held it up in front of us.

"Um, ah, what?" I blurted incoherently. "I don't understand."

"John, you have my permission to use that on me any time you like, any place. I won't say no. In fact, I encourage you to use it. Have fun. Just don't use it to dangerous levels as they warn."

Something lifted in me. Something grew. Hope.

"God I love you."

The relieved smile on her face was wonderful to behold. Then it was replaced with a sly one.

"I should warn you though, it cuts both ways."

"Cuts both ways?" I asked blankly.

"Yup. That bottle matches the one in my bedside drawer. I dusted myself just before getting into bed and it's starting to kick in big time. If you don't do something about that I'll be very cross."

A great big stupid boyish grin broke out on my face as I dived in head first. Cock head that is.

"Oh God - fuck me John. Do anything you like but just fuck me right now."