Drug

My wife is frigid; I can't seem to seduce her into active sex no matter what. I've tried all sorts of different approaches. Both gentle and rougher, with wine and flowers, arranging celebrations. I've tried buying expensive gifts. And the opposite, buying nothing. She'll chew it all over, accept it or not receive it, it's all the same. As soon as it comes to bedtime, she's like a log, just without branches growing.

It's unpleasant for her, something foreign is intruding into her. Mine, for example, sometimes told me, why don't you try inserting an enema yourself, maybe then you'll understand what kind of pleasure I'm experiencing. Well, I didn't tell my friend about the enema, but I supported his arguments.

We concluded that women are universally afflicted by some kind of recurring disease that atrophies nerve endings, and consequently, a lack of pleasant sensations. Sex doesn't bring pleasure, the man himself causes irritation. Accumulating irritation breeds anger and hatred. In short, we end up with 'don't come near, I'll kill you.'

So my friend says to me, I've heard there's a remedy that turns a woman into a sex machine. Explain, I say. You dissolve pills in any liquid, unnoticed by the woman. They say the effect comes closer to sleep, or maybe during sleep. The woman becomes like a zombie. Remembers nothing, sees nothing, only one desire remains: to have sex. It's called Tranga-Bonga, and it's made according to an ancient Indian recipe. What can I say, I went to great lengths, but I got this drug. Very expensive, a box with ten pills costs five thousand.

I brought it home, chose a convenient moment when my wife, after the work week, had her Friday bottle of wine, and dissolved three pills in the bottle. I thought about it and dissolved a fourth. Nothing unusual happened during the evening. To my hint about having sex, I got the standard answer: all you want is to gratify your lust. I'm tired and want to sleep. Which didn't stop her from spending another couple of hours on herself. Massaging the skin on her face with a roller. Cleaning her nails. Rubbing her heels and applying cream to various places. I must say I wasn't expecting much effect. I've tried all sorts of things on her: Spanish fly, all kinds of stimulating drops, and folk remedies from natural aphrodisiacs, exciting fruits and berries.

If she didn't notice, she processed them like a meat grinder. No result whatsoever.

We sleep separately. She's in one room, I'm on the couch in another. She closes the door behind her so as not to hear me, you see. I disturb her sleep, I cough, I sigh, the couch creaks when I turn over. I'm not sleeping, just in case, what if it works? My wife lay down, fidgeted a bit, and quieted down. Well, that's it, I think, another miss, surprisingly, an iron woman. If in other matters she's fickle, when it comes to sex, it's downright reinforced concrete constancy, 'don't come near,' as they say. So with thoughts about uselessly advertised drugs, I start to slowly fall asleep. I hear a rustle, the door opens, my wife enters, in panties and a tank top.

So there's always a desire to spread them apart to penetrate inside. She comes up to me silently, throws off the blanket, puts her foot on me, and we start massaging my cock through my underwear. Her leg is small, her foot neat, so such a massage always gives me pleasure. She massages, so tenderly and sensually as she never did before. My hero, not expecting such luck, naturally rises to the occasion. My wife slips her foot into my underwear and starts playing with my cock more intensely. She grabs it with her toes, rolls it with her sole, lifts and tosses it with her fingertips.

Not stopping stroking my cock with her foot, bending over so that her ass is right in front of my face, my wife grabs my cock with her hand and, continuing to massage it, literally swallows it, plunging it into her throat all the way to the base. The round ass that ended up in front of my nose, of course, I couldn't leave unattended. I lift the waistband and slip a finger between her buttocks. My wife, in her usual mode, would immediately start wriggling her rear, freeing herself, flailing her little hands, and saying all sorts of unpleasant things.

But here, no, she doesn't resist, even seems to help, swaying and backing onto my finger. Gently stroking the opening slit between her buttocks, I penetrate the moist vagina, spread it, and start massaging the walls, occasionally slipping my finger deeper. My wife started moaning and, without releasing my cock from her mouth, increased the pace a bit. It's impossible to imagine how she sucked. She had never given me that before. A thought flashed: where did she learn this? But quickly I had no time for thoughts.

Her tongue moved, working the head from all sides. With the tip of her tongue, she spread the canal. Tightly gripping with her lips, she literally sucked it into herself and slowly releasing it, tickled it with her tongue. She licked the head and, moving her lips down the shaft, took my balls into her mouth, rolling them one by one. Never having paid attention to me before, here she seemed to listen to my arousal, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down.

My buddy was in seventh heaven from bliss. Simultaneously with her mouth, her ass was moving too. Without releasing my cock from her mouth, she hooked the edge of her panties with her fingers and started pulling them off. Taking my finger out of her vagina, I helped her and placed my hands on her completely freed buttocks, grabbing as much as fit in my palms. My wife suddenly threw her leg over and ended up above my head.

Her spread labia ended up in front of my nose. This would have been impossible if... I thought... She didn't like it when I went near her vagina with my lips. Well, since I was allowed, I should take advantage. Grabbing her by the buttocks, I firmly pressed her vagina to my face and started searching for her clitoris with my lips, simultaneously licking and penetrating inside with my tongue, trying to reach as deep as possible.

Feeling that she was getting into it, her pelvis began to make thrusting movements, her lips swelled, became moist. With each new movement, she yielded so that my nose completely sank into the depths of her vagina. I released her buttocks and took her small, now dangling but still firm breasts with protruding nipple shafts into my palms. Holding them lightly, not tightly, I felt how the balls of her breasts swayed, tickling the skin on my palms with her nipples. They hardened and became firmer. I couldn't resist and, although this was also categorically unwelcome—something related to the maternity hospital, when she supposedly had to twist her nipples to feed the baby—I took her nipples between my fingers and started twisting, stroking, and teasing them.

Instead of pushing my hand away, my wife suddenly arched, pressing against me, and literally swallowed my cock, dropping it deep into her throat. As if a gentle hand squeezed my cock and slowly, slowly released it outward, teasing with a finger, tickling with her tongue, and licking the head. Lifting her head, my wife finally sucked on my cock a couple of times hard and juicy. Releasing it from her mouth, she touched it with her finger; the cock swayed and took a springy vertical position. Enough, now it's your turn to work, she said and, removing her foot from me, fell onto her back.

Spreading her legs wide, slightly bent at the knees, my wife pulled me onto her. Pressing her down with all my weight, I felt her hand groping in search of my buddy, which was resting against her pubis. Slightly lifting myself, I allowed her to experiment, although she never managed to guide it correctly. Always, my cock would bump into folded lips or into her thick hair.

Slipping my hand between her legs and taking my cock, I spread the swollen flesh from below and inserted my cock into the hot opening. I inserted it without mercy, all the way to the base, so that with a slight squelch, the shaft plunged into her, immediately reaching the firm end. My wife gasped; I, remembering her painful manifestations—always something wrong, always painful somewhere—made an attempt to pull out and stop. No, no, continue, my wife wrapped her arms around me and, squeezing me between her knees, moved to meet me.

Firmly grabbing her buttocks, I drove my buddy in several times so that I felt the firmness of the uterus at the end of the tunnel. My wife moaned, just slightly, but in any case, it was music. In all other cases, the best one could expect from her was silence. And she opened her mouth only so that I would know: this very sex is utterly unnecessary to her. She's forced to cook and run to the stores and still spread herself under me. Instead of carrying on with my cock like a precious treasure, I'd be better off wiping the floors and doing many other things instead of distracting her from her tasks.

I eased the pressure a bit, pulled her tank top up over her head, exposing her completely with marble-smooth shaved armpits, breasts slightly spread along her ribs, a thin girlish waist, and hefty hips. She lay beneath me, legs slightly bent, pressed down by my base, her skin matte-glistening in the light of the streetlamp. She was beautiful. Turning slightly, I gave myself over to enjoying her body.

I stroked her armpits, felt her thighs, kneaded her buttocks, spread them, and massaged her anus, slipping a finger slightly inside. An action also impossible in the normal rhythm of our life. Lifting her by the knee, I took her foot and, without stopping entering her, started nibbling and sucking her toes. My wife didn't resist, moaned slightly, making attempts to move to meet me. I must say, she still bends like a young girl; her legs can literally be thrown over her neck. Not many younger individuals can boast such spinal flexibility. Naturally, I took advantage of this option. Gathering her thighs in an armful, I rolled her into a donut and worked like a piston, simultaneously grabbing her breasts in my hand. Small but firm breasts completely fit in my palms, only her nipples sticking out moved back and forth as I, helping my piston, pulled them toward me.

It hurts, my breast, my wife exhaled, be gentler. In my excitement, I didn't measure the strength of my grip and apparently squeezed her breast quite hard. Sorry, sorry, darling, I was surprised again; at any other moment, I would have gotten the full program for the discomfort caused. Let's try differently. Turning her on her side and slipping my leg between hers, I again pushed into her vagina, though having done something beforehand. She really didn't like it when I used various kinds of lubricants. Even when her vagina was dry—and it was dry almost always—my wife would throw a scandal every time I tried to use, well, products intended for that purpose.

So, without drawing her attention, I took a tube of cream stashed in the corner of the couch, squeezed a generous amount onto my cock, and smeared it on her lips while, supposedly, searching for the opening. Therefore, my buddy slid smoothly inside her, sweetly smacking in the process. That's what I love about vaginal lubricants—the entrance into the vagina is accompanied by such a smacking sound.

She sprawled on the pillow with her shoulders and cheek, arched her back, lifting her round, shiny butt, so that the curly growth of her red pubic hair was in direct reach. My wife seemed to invite me to attend to that sweet spot as soon as possible. The invitation was just right. Taking a position from behind and firmly gripping her waist, I inserted my shaft into the wet, smacking well with full power. My wife moaned. I heard this moan as the most tender music and several times literally impaled her on my lust-flaming cock, drawing out a moan with a breath on a high note. Slowing the pace a bit, I attended to her charms, especially since, as they say, it was all at hand.

I placed my hands on her buttocks and spread them, watching as my cock, with a light smack, enters her vagina, framed by shaved but quite curly and thick hair. How the lips, swollen and moist, spread; her inner lips are quite large relative to the outer ones and in a normal state are clearly visible and not covered. I strongly suspect that the same guy in her youth worked on them, sucking and pulling the lips of my young, future wife, who didn't understand anything at the time.

Although... we often don't know even our own wives completely, or maybe it's precisely our own wives we don't know. The long lack of training had a negative effect. And although the pleasure of possession and access to the desired body was great, my buddy started to tire. I felt that he wasn't burning as much as at the beginning, relaxed, and was becoming soft. The most annoying thing was that my forty-year-old girl, who had started to warm up, still hadn't reached climax, although she made efforts, squatting and moving her butt, thereby enhancing the penetration effect. I had to roll off and flop down next to her, though not letting her out of my arms. My wife immediately sank down next to me, curled up in a ball, trembling slightly from excitement. I pressed her to me, continuing to caress her thighs, buttocks, and perineum.

With some caution, expecting the standard set of her definitions, always negative. To my surprise, my wife silently, sniffling, clearly waited for me to rest. After a while, I felt her hand trying to revive my limp root. It took some time before he perked up and raised his head. Her hand worked more intensively, and my buddy pretended to stand up.

Baby threw her leg over me, attempting to sit on the risen root, but I had to stop her, as no one knows better than me how deceptive the external feeling of his readiness can sometimes be. Wait, it's not worth it, I squeezed out, holding her back from the act. My wife's willingness to meet me halfway, not for the first time that evening, amazed me. Silently bending down to my groin, my wife drew the saboteur into her mouth and worked her tongue so that for the second time that evening I thought, is she taking courses?

Helping herself with her hand and licking it from top to bottom, my wife quickly brought him to condition. With unrestricted access to her perineum, with a finger, or rather two, I tried to find the G-spot on the front wall of the vagina. Didn't find the spot, but my hero was now in battle-ready condition like a horse, just not stamping his hoof. My little goat jumped on me and started riding. Here I also became a bit wary, as she rode quite professionally. Turning and bending, tossing her rear and leaning back.

Grabbing the small body in an embrace and literally pressing her into myself, in a few thrusts I achieve the result and come into her quite fully. In her vagina, a full bath sloshes substantially, but it's even pleasant. Her vagina hadn't been this wet in a long time. At least, with me. Baby, go wash up, I pat her on the butt, seeing her off to the bathroom. We have to get up early tomorrow, my wife silently nods her head, and as she gets up and goes to the door, I admire the familiar, explored, but still desired figure, which for twenty years I haven't been able to fully possess.

Several years later, when we finally divorced, I asked her on occasion, remember... we had sex one evening, and you gave me an extraordinary performance, amazing me for an hour; usually our standard sex ended within five minutes and almost complete disappointment. As a rule, she played the fool, like, what sex, when was that. And here, immediately, of course I remember, I remember, but don't relax, I just felt sorry for you, you were trying so hard. You chose the moment, slipped some rubbish, well, actually I checked, basically a harmless thing, some herbs in the composition.

So it didn't affect you at all? Of course not, and you felt absolutely nothing and were of sound mind and sober memory..? Of course, all these pills are an absolute fiction, especially for women, keep that in mind. A woman, until she decides herself, nothing can arouse her. So... I choked, how could you keep me and yourself in such deprivation for so many years... We could have lived happily. And why do you think I kept myself in deprivation... Well, you would have gotten too much then.

I've hated blondes ever since.

© Guilty V.F. 2015