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Husbands Cock
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My husband is shorter and thick about 5 inches.
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I was getting a manicure the first time I learned that not all wives want to, ahem, go for a roll in the hay with their husbands. I was 16 and had picked out orange nail polish (oh, sixteen). I had a book with me but it wasn’t long before I found another source of entertainment. In-between buffings and polishings, the two women next to me talked about how much their husbands wanted IT and how little they wanted to give IT.
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For a girl that had not even been asked out on a date, this was a whole new world. I had a suspicion that their experience was more realistic than the articles I sneaky read in Cosmo while getting my hair done at the salon. (I am supposed to put my hand WHERE? While simultaneously doing WHAT?) So I kept my eyes on my book, let the words blur into lines and listened closely.
“Doesn’t he know how tired I am by the end of the day? As if after the kids are finally asleep I have the energy to do anything but sit down and watch some TV.”
“For me, it isn’t even the energy it takes. I am still losing weight from the baby. I don’t feel sexy. I can hardly undress in front of a mirror, let alone in front of him. I honestly think it is selfish that he expects me to pretend to feel something that I don’t.”
“Selfish? That’s a good word. Maybe if he took care of the kids when he got home or made dinner once in a while I would be more interested. Hell, just pick up the milk on the way home from work. I am not asking for much. Now that I think about it, I don’t think we have done it in the last three weeks.”
“Yeah. It’s been at least two for us.”
Wait. These women were married … they lived with a guy … who slept in their bed. They could have sex all the time! And they didn’t want to? It made no sense. It was like turning down a zero calorie but as delicious-as-creme-brulee dessert. (Or at least I assumed. At that point, everything I knew about romance was gleaned from Anne of Green Gables and Moulin Rouge .)
How sad. How wasteful. How stupid. When I got married, I would always want to have sex with my husband! And I would never be too tired. My goodness, it was just ridiculous to want him to bring home a gallon of milk just to prove he cared. Wasn’t it just like a woman to make a grocery run a test of love. As the final coat of polish was applied to my nails, I swore to never be like them. My life would be different. I would be better. I would never feel too fat or too tired. Ever.
Intercourse, carnal knowledge, lovemaking, knocking boots, coitus, SEX! is everything 16-year-old me imagined plus a little whipped cream on top. (Whipped cream, see what I did there?) And once Riley and I got married, there was lots and lots and lots of it. Then we had a baby and I really was just so tired my bones hurt. And for a while, I did feel fat. Even after I lost the pregnancy weight everything just looked different. Like a cut flower that has been left out in the sun, still lovely, just a little … wilted. I became a little distant. We started to fall asleep without talking or kissing.
Then one day while washing dishes, I realized that we had gone eight days without touching each other. Eight days was quite some time for us. But the thing that bothered me the most was that I hadn’t missed it. And I knew that was a problem. So that night after we put the baby to bed, I gave Riley my best come-hither glance. Yes, I was tired and felt about as desirable as the “feed the birds” lady in Mary Poppins . But while drying the dishes, it occurred to me that 16-year-old Meg must have understood something about sex that 20-something Meg had forgotten. And maybe, just maybe it was worth remembering.
There is something about being covered in spit up and attending to the every need of another human being that makes one feel distinctly gender neutral. Most of my days are spent playing with dolls, wiping baby food off of my clothes, changing diapers, wiping snot off of my clothes, going to the park and wiping what-the-heavens-is-that off of my clothes. There is something restorative about kissing the boy you love. There are times in Riley’s arms when I remember who I am before I even realize I have forgotten. Yes, I am a cook, cleaner, teacher and wiper of all things disgusting. But I am also something more, something delightful and completely apart from my roles. I am a woman! And there is potential and depth and heck, I am pretty darn good kisser, too. It is a lovely thing, finding yourself through the touch of someone else.
Hold the eye rolls. I am not pushing for a return to the 1950s. (Although, heaven knows an era in which low rise jeans did not exist is basically alright by me.) Women need any number of criteria met to feel loved. Men are far simpler. They need to be fed, they need to be appreciated and they need to have sex. That is it. Really. So make or order dinner once in a while. Say thank you for the long hours spent at work with a hug and smile when he walks through the door each night. (Better yet? Smile as you hand him the kids and walk out the door for a long, much needed break.) And my goodness, let the poor man see you naked. It is astounding what a good man will do for a good woman that has made him feel loved. After a few weeks of meals and make outs, you will sit back and wonder why you didn’t insist on having sex every night sooner. Talk about a small investment and big returns.
Remember that boy? The one that made your heart thump and hands sweat? The one that called when you hoped he would, that made you run hot and high up to the stars until you thought you would never come down? He is still there. Under the years and bills and worries, that smiling boy is still in love with and needs his smiling girl. Every night after the kids go to bed is a chance to find him again. A moment to remind yourself that you are living a picket fenced adventure and my goodness, there is nothing the two of you can’t do.
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Savage Love
Jun 13, 2019 at 4:20 pm
She's Been Blowing Her Husband for 25 Years But Something's Suddenly Off...
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I really like giving him head because it's really his favorite and I can get creative and make him practically scream. But this taste thing means he only gets it maybe once a month because it's truly a labor of love. We have tried putting flavoring on (chocolate, etc), and that helps somewhat, but it's not always practical to have that stuff on hand. Is there something he can eat/take that will improve the flavor? Or any tips/tricks for not gagging? It really is the flavor and not how deep in my mouth—I used to go deeper than I do now, exactly for this reason.
Men tend to produce less ejaculate as they age, ANB, and ejaculate isn't produced in the balls. Sperm cells, which are produced in the balls, only account for a tiny percentage of a man's total ejaculate—and sperm isn't a sweetener, ANB, so removing sperm from the mix (by getting a vasectomy) won't impact taste much.
So what's in his jizz then? Take it away, Encyclopedia Britannica ...
In the sexually mature human male, sperm cells are produced by the testes (singular, testis); they constitute only about 2 to 5 percent of the total semen volume. As sperm travel through the male reproductive tract, they are bathed in fluids produced and secreted by the various tubules and glands of the reproductive system. After emerging from the testes, sperm are stored in the epididymis, in which secretions of potassium, sodium, and glycerylphosphorylcholine (an energy source for sperm) are contributed to the sperm cells. Sperm mature in the epididymis. They then pass through a long tube, called the ductus deferens, or vas deferens, to another storage area, the ampulla. The ampulla secretes a yellowish fluid, ergothioneine, a substance that reduces (removes oxygen from) chemical compounds, and the ampulla also secretes fructose, a sugar that nourishes the sperm. During the process of ejaculation, liquids from the prostate gland and seminal vesicles are added, which help dilute the concentration of sperm and provide a suitable environment for them. Fluids contributed by the seminal vesicles are approximately 60 percent of the total semen volume; these fluids contain fructose, amino acids, citric acid, phosphorus, potassium, and hormones known as prostaglandins. The prostate gland contributes about 30 percent of the seminal fluid; the constituents of its secretions are mainly citric acid, acid phosphatase, calcium, sodium, zinc, potassium, protein-splitting enzymes, and fibrolysin (an enzyme that reduces blood and tissue fibres). A small amount of fluid is secreted by the bulbourethral and urethral glands; this is a thick, clear, lubricating protein commonly known as mucus.
Anyway, ANB, the older a man gets, the less of all of that—the less fructose (a sweetener!), amino acids, citric acid, phosphorus, potassium, sodium, glycerylphosphorylcholine, and that "thick, clear, lubricating protein commonly known as mucus," etc.—he produces. Consequently, your husband's ejaculate is more concentrated these days than it was when you first started blowing him 25 years ago, ANB, something that could impact taste and " mouthfeel ," as they say in junk food R&D.
So what can you do? Well, you don't have to keep swallowing. As I've said long said ....
Swallowing is extra credit. It's not a course requirement. I say this as someone who gives and receives blowjobs: If someone sucks your dick until you come, you got your damn blowjob. What a blower does with the blowee's come after the blowjob is over—spit, swallow, spread it on toast—is the blower's call to make.
If given a choice between fewer blowjobs with swallowing or more blowjobs without swallowing, ANB, I imagine your husband would opt for the latter. (Protip: blow him until he's just about to come—when he's just past the point of orgasmic inevitability—then pull out as he starts to come and keep a spitty/wet hand working his shaft and head until he's drained.)
And while it's a myth that eating pineapple or chugging two cans of sweetened condensed milk can improve the flavor of a man's ejaculate, it's a fact that our bodily fluids are impacted by our diets. If your husband has a shitty diet—if he doesn't do fresh fruit or drink much water, if all he eats is junk food and all he drinks is booze and/or coffee—the effect on his ejaculate would become more pronounced over time. Getting him to eat better and drink water—not sweetened condensed milk—won't turn his come into vanilla pudding, ANB, but it could make it easier to swallow.
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From relationship goals to sex advice: if it's about sex or relationships, share it here.
Last night a noise woke me up...I rolled over and my husband quickly removed his hands from under the covers. And rolled over on his side( facing away from me). I reached under the covers and his underwear was down and his dick was hard. I tried to rub it becuase i was thinking about giving him a bj but the position he was in wasn't good and wasn't letting me do much. So I just fell asleep cause I was just too tired!! Im not mad at him for master bating, actually I rather enjoy to watch him...but I think he is too embarrassed to do it in front of me:/ cause I've told him that I want to watch and he says no! But I have caught him master bating several times before and he just stops what he is doing and goes back to sleep. And i usually pretend like i didn't see anything and go back to sleep...What would you do?
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