Ladies' Man

I get more pussy than any ten of you men reading this combined. Still, you may not envy me. There are different ways to "get pussy," it turns out. And the way I get it may not be the way you want it. On the other hand, I'm very much in demand by a lot of women, most of them pretty attractive. They tell me I satisfy them in ways their husbands and boyfriends can't, or won't. Not many of you can say the same thing.

It's not as if I'm out living the bachelor's life. I've been married to Valerie for eleven years now—the first six had been happy.

Valerie was a spoiled little rich girl. Her father was one of those "self-made men" who really thought he was self-made. None of it was luck; it was all his intelligence (though he was really a bit slow and bull-headed) and his hard work (well, I had to give him that). Jack thought no man was good enough for his little girl, his only child, and he seemed to think that I fell even further short of the mark than others. But Valerie loved me. Eventually, she convinced her dad that she couldn't be happy without me and he grudgingly gave his blessing to our marriage.

I have to give it to Jack; he did more than that. He gave me a job in the business he'd built: a steel manufacturing business. It wasn't as if it was a industrial empire, but it was stable—growing slightly when the economy was good—and it produced a decent profit. And it certainly generated a high standard of living for Jack and his family. (They weren't running with the billionaires, but to a middle class kid like me, who met Valerie in college only because I qualified for a needs-based scholarship, they looked very rich.)

The old bastard would probably have wanted to start me off as a janitor or an office assistant, sharpening pencils and sorting paperclips. He would have liked to test me as hard as he could and, I always suspected, he would have liked it best if I'd failed the test. It would have vindicated his original judgment of me. I'm guessing it was only by the grace of Valerie's appeals that I wound up starting in sales. I was just kind of an apprentice salesman, but I wore a suit and had a private office. And I was bound and determined to prove myself.

Things worked out pretty well for the first five years. I learned the ropes quickly. I was good working with the customers because I was a pleasant and witty guy. I garnered lots of bonuses for getting some large contracts on favorable terms. Valerie was happy. We bought a house—with a lot of help from Daddy, but a house of our own, nonetheless. I think Jack was even beginning to reconsider his opinion of me.

And then it happened. I fucked up. I fucked up badly—and very expensively for the company. I messed up a multi-million dollar deal and lost the company somewhere around three-quarters of a million in profit. It was my fault. There were no excuses to be made—not that Jack would have accepted them anyway.

I knew I was going to take a lot of grief for my fuck up. But I never thought the son of a bitch would fire me—his son in law. He did. I was canned, out on my ass. And I wasn't going to get a job anywhere else in the steel manufacturing business; Jack made sure of that.

Losing my job didn't have the same consequences for me as it would for a lot of men. I wasn't going to go hungry or lose my house—at least I wasn't going to get evicted. Of course, I couldn't pay the mortgage but "Daddy" saved his little girl from the embarrassment of having to move out of her lovely house. He made me sell the house to him and allowed Valerie and me to live there for free. Val had the income from a pretty significant trust fund, so she could still buy her expensive clothes and drive her Z4. (I'd never made enough to support her expensive tastes, anyway.) Now, she was also paying for everything for both of us.

Not surprisingly, I went into a funk. I looked for a job and couldn't find anything at all. I went into a deeper funk. I wound up staying at home all the time, sometimes not even dressing properly for the day. I was in front of my computer most of the day. When Val came around, I was "looking for jobs." (You know those "Boss keys" that, with one touch of a key, will bring up a spreadsheet to cover your Tetris game or the porn site you'd been looking at? Well, I created my own version of that. Whatever I was doing—and Tetris wasn't my diversion of choice these days, though I was often up for porn—when I heard Val's steps approaching, I could press a hot button I'd assigned and pull up Monster.com.)

I lost a lot of respect for myself. More importantly, Val lost a lot of respect for me. In fact, I think Val lost exactly as much respect for me as she'd ever had. She tried to be supportive at first, but as I sank deeper into my misery and showed no sign of pulling myself together, she started giving up hope. I could see it in her eyes. She thought I was useless. And she was right. I couldn't argue with that.

Things took a turn toward my current state of affairs when Val came home late one night from a evening out with the girls. She'd been drinking--pretty much it appeared. I was at the computer, looking at some great porn, when she came in. I quickly hit the "Val key" when I heard her come in and pretended to be tuning up my resume.

Val stopped by the door of the den, where I was "working," and just watched me for a second.

"There's a good executive opportunity at the State Department of Transportation. I'm just going to tune up my resume for that position," I said in a way that I thought was convincing.

It wasn't. "Oh, knock it off!" Val said with disgust. "Shut down your porn and get your ass into our bedroom."

"I wasn't ..." But it was no use. She knew, and I knew that she knew. I wasn't looking for jobs anymore. And I guess she knew what I was spending most of my time doing. I shut down the computer and followed her to the bedroom sheepishly.

When I got there, Val confronted me. "Ever since you fucked up at the company, you've been proving by everything you do, or don't do, that you're useless—that you're good for nothing." Her manner was dominating in a way that I'd never seen from her. I was stunned to silence. But Val had plenty to say. "I don't know why I stay with you. My friends don't, either, and my family certainly doesn't. All this time, I've tried to defend you. I've said that you'll get back on your feet. That you just needed a little time. But I don't think I can defend you anymore. I have to admit, even I think you're useless."

I wasn't able to think of anything to say in my defense. And Val was still on the offense. So I just stood there and took it.

"But then tonight, when I was talking with the girls at the bar, I realized that I hadn't really given you a chance. Maybe you're not useless. Maybe you are good for something." She was looking at me with a cold hardness that I'd never seen in her eyes before.

"We're going to see!" And Val pushed me down on the bed. She'd never been physically aggressive with me before. Maybe over these past months that I'd lost all of the characteristics of a strong man, Val had been silently growing stronger and more assertive. And now, it finally burst out of her in this "over the top" way.

Val climbed on top of me in a very dominating and threatening way. I didn't know what she was going to do. At first it felt like I was about to get a pounding from a grade-school bully. She was sitting on my chest and her knees were pinning my arms down. She could have slapped me, or punched me, if she'd wanted. And I couldn't have done anything about it. She was both physically and emotionally in control of the situation. But she didn't want to hit me. She had other plans.

After she'd pinned me long enough to be sure that I understood who was in charge, Val moved up my chest toward my head. She pulled her skirt aside and planted her crotch squarely and forcefully on my face. And then she began grinding her crotch on my face.

Her panties were soaking. It was clear that she'd come home extremely horny and didn't plan to go to sleep that way. She had no plans to satisfy herself by making love to her husband. No! She was going to use her husband in the most humiliating way.

"Let's see if you're good for something," Val spit out viciously. She pulled her panties to the side. "Stick that tongue out and show me you're not useless."

So that was it. If Val could use me, I wasn't useless. What a vile way to talk to—to think about—your husband. But I realized that I'd come to think of myself as useless, too. I'd come to feel as if I wasn't good for anything, either.

It wasn't with undivided reluctance, then, that I complied with Val's command. I put out my tongue as far as I could and slathered it back and for the between her sloppy lips. I think Val may have found a side of herself that she didn't know was there—I certainly didn't. She was really getting off on this domination and control stuff—at least if the copious quantities of fluids running from her cunt were any indication.

For a moment, I wondered whether she was so wet because she'd been with another man. But I couldn't convince myself to take that idea seriously. Val wouldn't do something like that and, besides, I knew her taste and this was pure Val—just a lot of it.

Val's legs were still pinning my arms down but she leaned forward onto her arms so that she could position her clitoris right on my tongue. She was serious about getting off now and I wanted to get her off as quickly as possible, too. This was hurting my arms and making my mouth and tongue sore. The sooner this ended, the better for me. (But as soon as I had that thought, I realized that it was only part of the truth. I wanted to make Val cum because I wanted to feel like I could do something right. If I could cause her pleasure, I wasn't useless. Val was right about that.)

When Val came, she came hard. Her hips were bucking and she was thrusting her pelvis into my face so hard that it hurt. But I kept my tongue out, licking her clitoris until she finally fell on top of me, exhausted and completely sated. I had to turn my head to the side in order to breath. But other than that, I dared not move. Somehow I'd accepted Val's dominance. We both knew now, that she was in charge.

After she'd come down a bit, Val managed to take off her clothes and collapse into her side of the bed, quickly falling asleep. I joined her in bed, but couldn't join her in sleep. I tossed and turned for more than an hour, with strange thoughts going through my mind. I found myself stroking myself and getting very hard. It was clear that I wasn't going to get to sleep until I took care of my woody.

I got up, intending to go to my office to find some good porn to whack off to. When I got to the door, I looked back at Val, sleeping peacefully. Next to the bed, her discarded clothes were in a jumble. Her panties were right on top. Without even being conscious of making a decision, I found myself walking back and picking up her panties. I held them to my nose and inhaled deeply. I felt my cock stir to the intoxicating scent.

So my plan changed. Instead heading to the office to beat of to porn the computer—my usual way of getting off recently—I went into the guest bathroom with Val's fragrant, and still damp, panties. I found that I could put them over my head so that I could see out of the leg holes with the wet crotch covering my nose. The scent filled my nostrils and, when I stuck out my tongue, I could taste Val's juices. This made me completely rigid. I watched in the mirror, inhaling the exciting odor, as my hand pumped furiously on my hard rod. In moments, I was spurting string after string of cum into the sink. As my orgasm crested, I felt a violent, but incredibly pleasant, shudder go through my body. I was so drained by the experienced that I actually fell to my knees in front of the sink. I rested my head on the vanity and regained my composure, listening to my breathing slow and my heartbeat return to normal as I inhaled the wonderful scent of Val's panties.

The events of this evening permanently changed my life—not just my relationship with Val, but my pattern of masturbating, too. I still whacked off to porn on the internet, of course, though I think my tastes in visual stimulation had changed somewhat. I became fascinated by crotch shots. In fact, I think I became something of a connoisseur of cunts. I noticed every slight difference between different women's cunts—how the lips hung, how the pelvis protruded, whether the clitoris was heavily hooded or barely covered at all, how large and hard the clitoris would become. These differences enthralled me now. And, when I was doing my computer porn beating off, it was usually to some slide show of slick cunts, or a video of a women fingering her wet cunt.

But I also became an incorrigible panty sniffer. I can't tell you how many times I hunted through the hamper for Val's used panties. When I did the laundry—a task that was mine these days—I'd always hold out a couple of her soiled panties, keeping them in reserve so that I always had a supply. Sometimes, just before laundry day, I would gather together six or seven scented treats. When I was sure Val was gone for quite a while, I didn't head for the bathroom. I'd lie down on the bed, naked with the pretty panties next to me. One after the other, I'd bring each of the panties to my nose, sniffing the crotch deeply like a wine connoisseur sampling a flight of wines. This always brought my cock to its "full and upright position." And, as I got to the point where I couldn't resist jerking off, I'd settle on my favorite pair of panties—usually the one that was freshest—pulling it over my head to keep the aromatic crotch against my nose while I jerked until my cock spurted all over my stomach and chest. These were great jack-off sessions—always more intense than the quickies in front of my computer.

Val had settled into a pattern of using me as her cunt-licker three or four times a week, usually after she'd been out with the girls, but sometimes first thing in the morning or other times when she hadn't been out. Funny thing was, I didn't really mind this. I always got incredibly hard. I never got off doing this. Val seemed to have no interest in me fucking her anymore. And, once when I began to stroke myself while I was licking her, she made it clear that all of my attention was to be on her pleasure. But it felt good to be hard with Val and I came to appreciate the satisfaction of pleasing her. I could always beat off later, in private, thinking about licking Val's wet cunt.

After a few months, the pattern changed dramatically. The turning point was when Val came home from a night out with the girls. She seemed uncharacteristically pensive and she certainly wasn't interested in using me in the way she usually did after these girls' nights out. Instead, she began talking with me about one of her girlfriends. Cindy and her husband had been divorced about a year ago and Cindy was finding it hard to get back in the dating scene. In fact, Val told me that Cindy hadn't been with a man since she got divorced. Val and the other women felt very sorry for Cindy and most of their evening was spent commiserating with her.

I told Val that I was surprised to hear that Cindy wasn't getting lots of dates. "She's certainly an attractive woman," I added (immediately wondering whether that was a faux pas).

"I'm glad you think so," Val responded, looking at me with an expression I couldn't decipher. "That will make this all easier for you." Okay, now I was really twisting in the wind. What on Earth could Val be talking about. I asked; she answered.

"Well, you see," she said, pleasantly enough, as if we were talking about nothing of any significance. "I told Cindy and the girls that I would be willing to loan you out to help Cindy with her problem." Okay, this wasn't sounding too bad. Val wasn't giving me anything—except the opportunity to give her pleasure. If Cindy wanted a man and Val was okay with it being me, that sounded pretty good to me.

Val saw my reaction and quickly squelched my growing excitement. "I'm not talking about you fucking her, you miserable loser!" She certainly knew how to take me down a few notches. "This isn't about you, so wipe that hopeful smirk off your face." (In fact, the smirk was already gone.) "You'll be taking care of Cindy's needs just the way you take care of mine."

I still saw a glimmer of hope here, but I tried not to let it show in my expression. Val quickly extinguished that glimmer. "And I'm going to be damn sure that you don't get any ideas about doing anything more."

"Too late," I thought. But I was smart enough not to say it.

Val let me hang on her last remark, with no further explanation. The suspense waned over the next day—I just got distracted by other things. But when Val came home the next night, the suspense was ended, and not in a pleasant way.

Val wanted me to service her, which was fine by me. She was in a very dominating mood and she pushed me down on the bed on my back, like that first time she used me in this way. But this time she said, she wanted me tied up and at her mercy. I couldn't see what harm it would do to be tied up. I was obviously already at her mercy in any case. If it helped her get off to have me tied, spread-eagle, on the bed, so be it.

But when she tied me up, I saw the errors of my reasoning. She slowly removed a brown paper bag from her large purse. Out of the bag, she pulled a box that was plain white, with no apparent markings. She opened the box slowly, seeming to enjoy the suspense she was provoking. There was no need for her to rush; I was completely helpless; she could do what she wanted to me in her own sweet time.

What she removed from the box filled me with horror. I'd never seen one before "in the flesh", so to speak. But I'd seen them in pictures and movies on the web. It was one of those clear plastic cock cages—a chastity belt for men. I said 'no' as forcefully as I could and began to thrash from side to side. Val seemed bemused, perhaps entertained, by my response. She was in no rush. She could take all day. Slowly, the realization of my impotence came over me and I stopped thrashing. I allowed her to slip the lexan sleeve over my shaft and lock it securely with a strap that went around my ball sack. My cock was trapped in a turned down position. There was no chance of getting a proper erection in this thing.

That's not to say that my cock couldn't fill with blood. When Val crawled up on top of me and pulled her panties aside to cover my mouth with her sopping cunt lips, I felt how my cock filled with blood and tried to rise. But trying isn't doing. Hard as my cock got, it was restricted to a small diameter and consigned to a downward bend by that awful plastic torture device.

It hurt. And it was frustrating. But my displeasure seemed to feed Val's pleasure. Soon she was thrusting wildly from an extraordinary climax. It was as if my enforced impotence intensified her orgasm. When she came down from her high, she was exhausted and apparently completely satiated. This was in marked contrast to me. My cock hadn't softened the entire time I was licking Val's cunt. The constriction was sometimes painful and always uncomfortable. After she left the bed to get cleaned up, my cock did soften, but I felt no relief. I was angry about being tricked, humiliated at being caged, and, most of all, frustrated about not being able to get off.

Val came to bed, untied me, and was soon sleeping the sleep of the innocent, though she was anything but. What happened next still doesn't make sense to me. I couldn't sleep; I lay tossing and turning for over an hour. Finally, I got up. Usually, if I couldn't get to sleep, I'd whack off to some porn, or, more recently, to the subtle scents of Val's soiled panties. That was impossible now. Still, I found myself digging through the hamper in the bathroom for the panties Val had worn tonight when I'd taken care of her needs. They were soaked and I held them to my nose for a minute, inhaling the fragrance I'd come to associate with my own satisfaction.