Wife on top in bed!

I had always felt guilty about my fascination with breasts; I'm not a lesbian and I have never experienced sex with another woman, but I knew that anyone hearing about my secret would assume I was gay. With Jeff I was cautious. During sex before we got married I never once showed interest in his nipples. The honeymoon however was a different matter. I feasted on my husband's nipples with a hunger that shocked us both. Two things helped us get off to a good start: Jeff confessing, pink with embarrassment, that he enjoyed having me on top during lovemaking, and the two bottles of champagne we consumed. I had no experience of making love to a man in the controlling, or masculine, position. Of course I'd seen it on the television but it wasn't until I tried it that it dawned on me that this was perfect for my particular fetish. After our first clumsy experiments we settled down to good vigorous bouts of sex. I was so focussed on my own kinky intentions I completely failed to spot what was happening to Jeff. It was only later that I understood how much he was enjoying the passive role. I took my time and only 'introduced' Jeff to nipple sucking after satisfying him in a more conventional way. I was straddling him at the time; my knees on either side of his thighs as I leaned over and kissed him. My kisses went from his lips to his throat to his chest. I found his right nipple and sucked it deep inside my mouth. I had told myself to take it easy. I wanted to give Jeff the impression that kissing his nipple was no different than kissing his throat for example. But I was excited, and a little drunk. Jeff's nipple seemed to enjoy my attention. I used my right hand to cup the flesh around Jeff's nipple into a small 'breasts'. I then sucked even harder; taking most of the flesh around his nipple into my mouth. Oblivious to Jeff's reaction I simply enjoyed doing that I'd always fantasised about. I tasted his nipple and breast for a long time. Using both hands to mould and shape his breast I became entranced with pleasure. Guilt -and a flush of hot shame - hit me hard. Jeff had lost all interest in the proceedings. He was limp and quiet and - when I finally summoned up the courage to tear my lips from his bruised and swollen nipple - I almost couldn't meet his eyes. My mouth was full of apologies as I gazed down into his face. But Jeff was in a trance of his own. His face was slack with lust. Slowly he blinked himself into focus and I saw embarrassment in his eyes. Even then it never occurred to me that we were 'in tune' so to speak. My words of apology remained unspoken and we embraced with a kind of relief. I made love to Jeff once more before we drifted off to sleep. And this time I allowed my hands and lips to enjoy his nipples in a way that seemed natural, and, more significantly perhaps, in a way that Jeff appeared to accept. If I had been less selfish I may have noticed that my husband's excitement was very low key. Despite the slow and relaxed way I made love he made no attempt to force the pace. Not once did he reach for my breasts, or try and kiss me. His passion was real enough. I was transfixed by the expression of startled ecstasy in his face when he climaxed. And if I'd needed proof: his whispered words of gratitude, as we embraced after each unhurried bout, was convincing enough. Jeff's lack of aggression made no impact on me at that time. I was too busy enjoying the best and most satisfying sex of my life. ***

The post honeymoon period is probably a shock to most wives. From being the centre of attention the beautiful bride suddenly becomes a hard working and often ignored housewife. Even sex can become routine. I was different because I had prepared myself- and more importantly prepared my new husband - in advance. 'I'm not interested in being a slave to housework,' I told him when he proposed to me. 'I have a good job and I'm not giving it up to look after a lazy idle man.' His grin told me he already knew that much about me. 'We do what we do now,' he asked. 'Share the work load evenly?' Knowing that this was a promise every man made before marriage I made a different suggestion. 'If we live with my mother most of the day to day housework is already done.' Now with most men this suggestion would have gone down like a lead balloon, but my mother adores Jeff and spoils him more than I do. The prospect of any friction between them was outlandish. He agreed immediately. And Mummy was thrilled. 'I think we'll be very happy together,' she enthused. How right she was. *** It was on the last night of our honeymoon that Jeff displayed doubts about the arrangement. 'It's the sex,' he admitted shyly, 'I've never been so happy and I don't want anything to spoil it. I'm worried that living under her roof we might feel constrained -' It was fair comment. The sex was quite fantastic and this was mostly due to our complete lack of inhibition. We had become sexually adventurous in a way that would have seemed unimaginable a few weeks previously. I made love to Jeff in ways that could only be described as brutal in their selfish intensity. My breast and nipple fetish was fully incorporated into our lovemaking and in my eyes enhanced it. 'You're scared she'll hear us at night?' He shrugged, 'I know I'm not exactly loud when you make love to me -' he admitted ruefully. 'Not nearly enough.' I added. The most I'd got from my husband even when I was at my most ferocious was the occasional gasp and whimper. I often thought that I deserved more. He flushed, 'I'm sorry, I find it hard to show my emotions, or my appreciation. But sometimes I get very close to -' 'Close to what?' I asked when he stopped in mid-sentence. He avoided my eye. 'Sometimes I want you so badly I could scream,' he told me in a soft gentle voice. 'Go on,' I said, 'I need to hear this.' 'On more than a few occasions I've come very close to begging you to make love to me.' I opened my mouth and he waved me silent. 'I know, I know, I'm the man and I'm supposed to be able to - you know - get things moving but I like things the way they are.' I was gratified in a way Jeff would never understand. Yes, I already knew that our sex life was little short of magnificent. I also knew that I was responsible for this happy state of affairs. Until this moment I'd been more than a trifle resentful of the fact that my husband seemed to take it all for granted. Now I knew different. 'I think I'd like to hear you beg,' I whispered. We both laughed but I was very serious. 'Anyway, back to my mother,' I said. 'It's a decent sized house. Unless she puts us into the bedroom next to hers I don't think you need to worry about her hearing us at night.' 'And if she does put us next door to her?' He wanted to know.

'I'll tell her it's not suitable,' I replied. He ran a hand over his face. 'What about our daytime activities?' I chuckled. I'm greedy and I rarely wait until nightfall for sex. 'Okay Mummy will be a problem unless -' He examined my face as I hesitated. 'Unless we are adult enough to talk to her about it.' I added softly. He raised an eyebrow. 'Talk to your mother about our sex life?' 'Yes,' I said. 'Mummy is not a prude but she'll take her lead from us. If we pretend that nothing has changed. If we pretend that we aren't at each other like rats in a sack -' 'Rats in a sack?' He looked bemused. I didn't answer his smile. 'You know what I mean. We can all tiptoe about the subject and get embarrassed as all hell or we can be up front about it. Get the embarrassments out of the way early on.' He gazed out of the window considering what I'd said. It sounds logical but what do we say exactly?' 'We tell her the truth,' I said firmly, 'we can't keep our hands off each other. We enjoy making love and we are not going to pretend otherwise. If Mummy doesn't want to catch us at it -' his eyebrows flared again -'she'll have to be careful about moving from room to room. If she feels uncomfortable at anything she sees then it's up to her to get out of the way.' 'Brutal approach,' he said 'considering it's her house.' 'Mummy wants us living with her. If she isn't prepared to adjust it won't work anyway. I am not going to allow anything to get in the way of -' I stopped suddenly embarrassed at my rampant enthusiasm. Jeff touched my hand, 'say it.' He urged. My face was hot but I went on, 'we have something special here and it's more than sex.' His eyes told me he agreed. 'It's good now and I believe it can only get better. I won't allow anything to interfere.' He was impressed. He was also in full agreement. 'I couldn't have put it into words like that,' he told me, 'but I needed to hear it. To be honest I wasn't sure you enjoyed it all as much as I do.' I was amazed. 'Are you kidding?' I shook my head. 'When I make love to you I'm king of the world.' It was only later that I asked myself why I'd used the word king. I mean what did that make Jeff? My princess? My queen? *** Mummy had a surprise for us. Taking us upstairs she showed us her old bedroom. Redecorated with new furniture and a new bed. As Jeff gazed appreciatively at the expensive furnishings she said, 'it's the largest bedroom in the house and you should have it.' It was a wonderful gesture but I was worried. I'd promised Jeff that I'd keep my mother at bay. 'But where will you sleep?' I asked warily. Her smile was bright. 'I've always liked the room next door,' she said breezily, it has a lovely view of the fields -' My heart sank. She wanted to sleep right next door. I couldn't allow it opened my mouth but Jeff spoke first. 'This is a fabulous surprise Helen,' he said, 'and I can't tell you how much it means to me. I'm really very touched.' They embraced and I closed my mouth. Mummy had tears in her eyes. Jeff was clearly affected by her welcoming gesture. I'd have to worry about the sex angle later.

*** Alone in our new bedroom we were unpacking - or at least Jeff was unpacking I was gazing out of the window. 'This is not what I planned,' I said, 'and not what I promised you.' He was folding one of my slips into a drawer. Looking up at me he said, 'sex is important but so is my relationship with your mother.' I lay back on the huge satin covered bed and watched him as he searched for the right words. 'It was always going to be awkward for me and for Helen,' He began, 'easy for you this is your house and you have both your mother and your husband close at hand. But Helen and I - we are living with a stranger. It would be easy for me to feel excluded' I nodded, 'but by giving up her room she's giving up her territory so to speak.' He took one of my dresses from a suitcase and examined it. I knew he'd run an iron over it later. 'It goes way beyond making me welcome in her house,' he said, 'she's actually saying it's our house. To me that's -' He couldn't go on and I was shocked to see tears on his face. 'Come here,' I said. We embraced and kissed. 'And you don't think it will be a problem,' I asked, 'her listening to us at night?' 'I don't honestly know,' he told me, 'but your mother has made me a part of her family. It makes no sense to push her away either emotionally or physically.' 'Then we really do need to have that talk with her,' I suggested, 'and not just about sex.' He frowned, 'how do you mean?' I looked at the dress he had been holding. 'You want to press that dress don't you?' He shifted uncomfortably. I pressed on. 'If we were alone you'd already be in the kitchen with the ironing board out.' He waited for me to make my point. 'But you are not sure how my mother would react to the way you look after me.' He didn't say anything, but his face told me it was true. 'We agreed that tiptoeing around the sex issue was out. It's the same way with the way we want to live as a couple. Either we live a lie or we involve Mummy right from the start?' 'Involve her?' He repeated the word. 'How?' It was my turn to look away. 'Are you ashamed of the way I make love to you?' He didn't answer and I was eventually forced to look at him. The hurt on his face told me what I needed to know. 'Are you ashamed of me?' I asked. His eyes went wide but I pressed on, 'I'm lazy, I don't cook your meals and I don't do housework.' 'I don't see you as lazy,' he told me. 'Maybe I see things differently but to me I'm the lucky one. Housework is a small price to pay for the life I'm lucky enough to lead.' I was touched but I didn't say as much. Instead I was unrelenting. 'Am I meant to be ashamed of you?' 'Of course not,' he said. 'So I can be proud of the fact that you wait on me hand and foot?' He went pink. 'I don't know,' he muttered, 'are you proud?' 'Yes,' I said with a fierce hiss. 'And if I had my way I'd tell Mummy everything. I love you. I adore you and I'm the happiest woman in the world but -' He chewed his lower lip. 'But you're not sure your mother would agree?'

'No.' I said impatiently, 'I'm not sure you'd enjoy being seen as anything less than masculine. Men are funny about that kind of thing. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable.' 'Are you really proud of me?' He asked. 'How can you ask that?' I said. I was actually quite angry. 'Because I truly don't know,' he said. 'I don't think of myself as a good husband. I told you, I think I'm lucky. But I certainly don't think I'm doing my share. As far as our happiness is concerned, most of it is down to you.' I shook my head, 'now there was me saying I needed to talk to my mother about us when I really needed to talk to you. I had absolutely no idea that you felt this way. Did you know that I feel guilty about being a bully in bed?' His astonishment was real. 'Sometimes I lay awake at night full of guilt myself,' he admitted. 'You asked if I was shamed of the housework stuff, what really makes me feel bad is not playing an active role in bed.' We stared at each other for ages. It was like discovering a stranger in one's bed. 'What about my nipple fetish?' I asked stressing the words with bitterness, 'not exactly a feminine activity is it?' Jeff blinked. 'But when your lips touch my nipple,' he murmured, 'I turn into a zombie. I can't move. I can't think. I just have this terrible need -' Our eyes met. The day had disappeared without us noticing. The afternoon sun had gone leaving the room in semi-darkness. The tension between us had increased the emotional temperature. The atmosphere was tense and expectant. 'Did you mean it when you said you'd rather like to hear me beg?' Jeff's voice was thick and slurred. I began to experience a sense of acute anticipation, the kind you get as an inexperienced teenager, and I could barely find my voice to answer him. 'I meant it,' I managed. I too sounded distinctly odd. Jeff's face took on an almost tortured expression. Knowing how hard it is for him to express any emotion or need I was tempted to intervene, but something stopped me, excitement perhaps. I wanted to hear him say how much he needed me. 'Make love to me Brenda,' he breathed, 'please, make love to me. I need you so much -' 'Beg.' I hissed. I was ashamed and yet too excited to care. 'Please Brenda,' he hung his head and whispered, 'I'm begging you - please.' A heat poured through me in waves that left me weak and shivery. I'd seen Jeff in a variety of unmanly and awkward situations. But this was surrender and submission weakness on a grand scale. Why such vulnerability overwhelmed me was a question for another time. All I wanted right now was my husband beneath me. I don't remember moving, maybe he moved to me, whatever the case we embraced and I undressed him like a mother undresses a tired and excitable child at the end of a tiring day. When I kissed him he accepted my kiss with a naked hunger that was totally unlike my normally passive husband. As my tongue explored his open mouth my hand caressed his small breast. I tweaked his nipple and tore my mouth from his. Swooping down I found his nipple with open lips. Jeff swooned. He went weak and faint and limp in my arms. He was conscious but oblivious to anything other than my mouth at his breast. My body and mind seemed to react to Jeff's soft and feminine response. I gorged at his breasts with an animalistic frenzy. Moving with alarming speed and ferocity I mounted him lowered myself onto his surprisingly stiff penis and stabbed into his body as I sucked and bit his tender flesh.

If I had been brutal previously I was sadistic now. Perhaps angry at the way he went so limp and distant I forced him to acknowledge me. I bit, scratched, mauled and slammed into him with brutish ferocity. Jeff began to moan and squeal, which excited me all the more. At one point he yelped like a puppy and then whimpered in pain as my manic excitement took over. Seconds after a series of orgasms had wracked and wracked my body I stared down at his bruised and swollen chest in horror. Teeth marks around his nipples were testimony to my madness. My gaze swept up and I saw fear in his eyes. My husband flinched when I reached out to touch his face. 'I'm sorry,' I whispered. 'It's my own fault,' he wept. *** My mother had heard everything. 'I thought you were beating him,' she told me. 'What kind of sex is that?' 'Why shouldn't I beat him?' I asked. My mother pulled her robe tight about herself. We were in her new bedroom. Jeff was sleeping next door. 'Jeff is a sweet boy,' she said, 'but he's still a man and men do not like bossy wives.' 'This one does,' I told her. 'Jeff is happy I assure you. And so am I.' 'You don't really beat him,' she asked shyly, 'do you?' I thought for a minute. 'I probably could if I wanted to,' I replied, 'but no, what you heard was me being beastly to him because he sometimes doesn't show enough emotion.' Her expression told me she did not understand. 'Look, you know how I've been hung up on nipples and breasts all my life -' Her eyebrows went up. 'You're asking me?' She said, 'I had to give you my breast after school until you were almost a teenager.' I flushed. 'That must have been awful for you.' She smiled, 'not a bit of it. I liked it actually but I knew it was wrong so I tried to get you off it.' 'You liked it?' I was curious. 'I ask because Jeff gets -' She leaned forward, 'Jeff enjoys you kissing his nipples?' I shook my head, 'enjoyment doesn't describe what happens. The minute I touch them he goes 'click' into a trance. It's weird.' 'I thought you'd like that,' she said. 'I don't know many men who'd enjoy having a wife who wants to suck tit all day long.' I glared at her. 'I do like it. But I've been so focussed on getting what I want I barely saw what was happening to Jeff. He needs it more than I do now and that scares me.' 'Scares you how?' I tried to think. 'With me it's a fetish. I like sucking the nipple end of story. It doesn't mean I want a woman in my bed. But Jeff is acting as though I do. I don't know whether Jeff is far more feminine than I realised or if I have somehow given him the impression that I want a feminine response.' My mother eyed me with concern. 'I don't think you're being honest with yourself,' she said. 'From what I heard earlier you have already assumed to masculine role in bed. That leaves Jeff with a choice of accepting you as a husband or fighting you every step of the way. To suggest that this may be his fault is simply outrageous.'

I sighed, 'if we were talking about sex in general I'd have to agree with you,' I said, 'but wait until you see Jeff swoon away when I kiss his nipple - then you might think differently.' 'And how would I be able to see such a thing?' I didn't flinch. 'Jeff and I agreed on one thing at least. We said we'd talk to about our sex life. We didn't want you to be embarrassed and we didn't want to be furtive and secretive about something as normal as sex.' 'Your sex doesn't sound normal to me.' She answered grimly. 'And what makes you think I wouldn't be embarrassed watching you kiss Jeff's nipples? What makes you thin he wouldn't be embarrassed.' 'I won't force you,' I replied evenly, 'but I'm asking for you advice. I don't want to turn a perfectly good husband into a -' 'A sissy?' 'No.' I said angrily, 'Jeff is not a sissy. But he is soft and gentle and possibly very feminine.' She tapped her finger on the back of my hand. 'All men have a deep feminine core. There isn't a wife in existence that hasn't observed it in her husband. The problem is that few men want to accept that side of themselves and fewer still want their wives to see it. If Jeff really is different you may have a very special partner.' 'He is special.' I said. 'And I want to make him happy.' 'Is he feminine outside of the bedroom?' Mummy asked. I could see her mind working now. 'Yes,' I answered, 'but again I don't know if that is a response to the way I act or the way he'd be anyway.' 'In what way is he feminine?' 'He does the housework,' I said. 'Is that it?' She sounded dismissive. 'I'm not talking about a little bit of cleaning and cooking. Jeff washes and irons my clothes, including my underwear.' 'Okay,' she said, 'he's feminine in that respect, but what I meant was -' 'Look he doesn't wear lipstick and he's shown no interest in wearing my clothes -' 'He just washes them,' she said. I hesitated. 'So you agree that its odd. Not that he's willing to help but that he's willing to be so eager to accept the most unmasculine activities without resistance.' 'If I wasn't around,' she wanted to know, 'would any of this upset you? I mean would you be questioning any of this if there weren't a third party to consider.' I found it a difficult question to answer. 'I enjoy having a partner who isn't afraid to be either feminine or hardworking,' I was choosing my words carefully now, 'and if I thought that Jeff was happy being a housewife I wouldn't give a damn about anyone else's views. My worry is that he's simply reacting to what he perceives is my need to be -' 'Masculine?' She suggested when I hesitated. I sighed, 'yes.' 'Then maybe you're asking the wrong questions,' she spoke very softly. 'Do you really need to be so masculine? Could you enjoy a more conventional sex life? And, if you had a straight choice, would you want Jeff to be overtly and obviously masculine or do you prefer him as he is now?'

I worried away at my bottom lip chewing it as I considered her words. As usual my mother had zeroed in on my real dilemma. I wasn't sure I wanted to face up to the answers. She saw my confusion and went off on a different tack. 'You say that Jeff's never shown any interest in wearing your clothes - which indicates to me that you yourself have considered the possibility. How would you have reacted if he had? You both have an unhealthy fascination with Jeff's breasts and nipples. If Jeff wanted to wear a pretty bra - what then?' I shrugged, 'again it would all come down to the 'why'. If he were offering to wear one to please me I'd hate the idea. But if he wanted to wear one for his own reasons I'd happily go along.' 'That's ridiculous.' She snorted. 'It's the most normal thing in the world for a man to want to please his woman. Jeff knows you enjoy his breasts. By offering to wear a bra he's simply acting naturally. Wouldn't you wear a pretty bra to please him?' I was shocked by her outburst. 'Of course I would.' She tapped the back of my hand again. 'What did you wear in bed on your wedding night?' I chuckled, 'none of your business.' 'You once told me that your favourite outfit in bed was a tee shirt.' 'Okay,' I admitted, 'I dress to please my lover. What you're saying is that it wouldn't be unhealthy for Jeff to feminise himself if he thought it would please me.' 'No,' she said, 'you wear a nightdress to make the sex better for both of you. Jeff would be wearing your clothes to make sex better for both of you. But that would only work if -' 'If I really wanted him to be feminine in the first place.' I agreed. 'Have you ever,' she asked gently, 'ever thought of Jeff in a bra?' I couldn't meet her eye. 'Yes,' I confessed. 'I have.' It was the first time I'd faced up to what I really wanted. And I wasn't too happy about it either. 'This is all my fault and I've been attempting to shift the blame onto Jeff.' 'Not necessarily,' she said. 'We cannot exclude the possibility that Jeff wants enjoys being the weaker party. Hen-packed husbands are not exactly rare and they can be explained quite easily. More than a few husbands hate the constant decision-making that goes with being a modern husband. If he makes a mistake his wife will surely remind him of it. Better surely to allow her the power to make decisions.' I suddenly saw her point. 'And the modern woman expects a level of sexual satisfaction unknown by earlier generations. What better way to handle the stress than by allowing one's wife to take responsibility in the bedroom?' 'Sounds to me as though Jeff will be happy whatever you decide. The only thing he wouldn't want is for you to be agonising over what makes him happy.' 'I'd agree with except for one thing,' I said. 'The way he acts when you kiss his nipples?' I nodded. 'I'll show you tomorrow. If Jeff's as happy as you make out he won't make a fuss about you being an observer. Then tell me what you think.' I got up to leave and she stopped me. Her face went ever so slightly pink. 'What?' I asked, 'don't get all shy on me now.' Her fingers plucked at her robe. I don't think you fully understand how brutal your were with him.' I was ashamed.

As a mother I know how sore breasts feeding can be. You really do need to think about the practicalities of your fetish. When you've finished demonstrating your husband's nipples to me tomorrow maybe I'll get the chance to do some repair work on them.' 'Repair work?' She gave me that grim smile again. 'I come from a farming background. I learned early on that a cow's teats were ultra-sensitive to pain and infection. We used all kinds of ointments and lotions on them. I'll bet my bottom dollar that Jeff's nipples are cracked and sore.' Shame once more left me speechless. I kissed her goodnight without another word. To be continued Clean the windows, I said without looking up from my magazine. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him freeze on his way into the kitchen. Ive just done them, he replied. I know, I answered calmly, flicking over a page, and I want you to do them again. The silence stretched. It felt good, very good indeed. But why? Because I enjoy watching you do them, I answered, and I dont enjoy having to explain myself. You like watching me work? He sounded genuinely curious. I lowered my magazine with a sigh. Yes, Jeff, I do. There are many things Id like you to do for me but having to explain myself takes the fun out of. Forget the windows. Theyre not important. He walked over and seated himself on the couch opposite my chair, the chair that had once been his. Im really sorry Brenda. I made a mistake, please forgive me. I shrugged. And pretended to read. What other things? He asked shyly, you know, that youd like me to do. I honestly want to please you, you must know that by now. I answered without looking up. Yes, youll please me but only when you understand why. Has it ever occurred to you that I too get embarrassed? Oh, he said. There was something about the way he said it encouraged me. Okay, listen up, this morning I had this vivid fantasy.. About me? About us, I said finally meeting his eye. I saw you walking into the room wearing that pink apron, the one you never wear anymore, and you executed a perfect curtsey when you saw me. You apologised for disturbing me and offered to come back later. I excused you and told you to stay and work around me. I felt my face grow hot and stopped. My husband blinked. I feel so stupid, he breathed. I had no idea Would you have done it? I demanded cutting him off, without asking why? He bit his lip, I dont know how to curtsey, but yes Id have done it Without asking why? He sighed, probably not. I thought this kind of thing was about punishing me, not giving you a thrill. Well now you know, and Mummy will teach you how to curtsey if you ask her. He paled visibly. And then he surprised me. Ill speak to her as soon as Ive made lunch. Does she know, well other things I can do to please you?

If you ask her properly Mummy will train you. I told him. And that in itself will please me enormously.