Shhh…I never dreamed he would ask me to do this sort of thing…

So My Husband Brought Me A Brand New Strap-On And He Couldn’t Wait For Me To Use It On Him…
I never dreamed that he would ever ask me to do this sort of thing, but I sure am glad he did.
You could have knocked me over with a pencil sketch of a peacock feather when my husband Bud showed me what he had gone and bought at our local sex shop.

It was the biggest strap-on dildo I’d ever set eyes upon.

I mean we’re talking huge. That giant gorilla King Kong would have taken one look at this sexual strap-on battering ram and immediately reached for a stiff drink of banana bourbon and a twenty-gallon bucket of industrial-strength lube, just to loosen himself up.

I mean I felt penis envy just looking at the thing, and I’m a woman. Dad had originally planned on having a son and naming him after his father, Hazel. So when I was born and he noticed the distinct absence of a penis he said to my mother, “Well, most people don’t realize that Hazel used to be a man’s name, so I guess it wouldn’t hurt if we named our daughter Hazel.”

Mom didn’t say a thing.

She knew the best time to let her husband think he was right was when it didn’t change a thing. She thought Hazel was a perfectly good name for a daughter, so it didn’t bother her to let Dad take the credit.

Only we weren’t talking about names, now were we?

We were talking about strap-on dildos.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” I asked Bud. “I mean if you’re worried, you don’t really need any kind of help in the size department to keep me happy. I think your cock is just fine.”

It’s true.

Bud has a fine healthy-sized dick and he had never given me any kind of reason to complain. He kept in shape, was an attentive lover, and we’d been happily and hornily married for almost twenty-two years.

So what was up with the strap-on?

I thought hard.

With the accent on hard.

I mean, me staring at the battering ram of that gigantic latex love-stick, the word “hard” was exactly what I was thinking about.

That strap-on was way past hard.

It was freaking huge.

“So, are you figuring on putting that battering ram into my steaming clam?” I asked. “If you are, well I guess that I’d be game to try, but it’s going to take about a half-bottle of cold gin and maybe about four times the usual foreplay to loosen me up before we get to pounding that particularly monstrous nail into my willing cunt.”

Bud sort of looked at me sheepishly, and I swear if we had been standing on the Gobi Desert instead of our bedroom floor he’d have been bashfully circling his big toe in the dirt. After twenty-two years I could read that man’s mind like a large-print book.

You know, the kind of large-print book with great big pictures in it.

Bud was embarrassed.

I put the pieces together fairly quickly.

“I’m sorry, but are you trying to tell me that the strap-on is for you?” I asked. “Are you actually trying to tell me that you want me to wear that foot-long plastic schlong and fuck you with it?”

The thought of me fucking my husband with a monstrously huge strap-on wasn’t all that hard of a concept for me to swallow. I mean, Bud and I had indulged in more than our share of butt-play, in both directions. He loved to feel me sliding my long fingers into his asshole right before he let go inside of me.

I knew that he had always been kind of adventurous that way.

But this still seemed a little…drastic.

“Don’t you get enough of this sort of thing from your doctor’s regular rectal checkups?” I asked.

“Haw-haw,” Bud ruefully chuckled. “The difference is that you are a hell of a lot cuter than my doctor has ever been.”

“Flattery will get you anything that you might be looking for,” I replied, with a smile. “But this whole move seems kind of sudden to me.”

“It isn’t sudden,” Bud admitted. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Just so long as you’re certain this is what you want me to do to that sweet backdoor of yours.”

I was starting to warm up to the idea, but you have to understand that I really wanted to be sure that this was exactly what he wanted me to do to him. I mean, I didn’t want to hurt the guy.

Bud licked his lips and he swallowed just a little, like a virgin on her very first night. By now I knew my husband well enough to know that he really wanted me to do this to him, but I really needed to hear it from his lips.

I’ve known a lot of men in my lifetime. Most of them don’t like to talk about this sort of thing, but most fellows I know actually kind of enjoy a little play around the asshole.

“Yeah,” Bud said. “I want you to fuck me with that monster dick. I’ve been fucking you with my own dick for nearly twenty-two years now. I figure it’s your turn to play now. I’d like you to do me with that great big love-tool, if it’s all right by you.”

It sounded so damned reasonable, the way he said it.

I knew there was more to it than that. I knew Bud wouldn’t offer his ass to me if he didn’t really want to have this big pseudo-cock inside of his big muscular ass.

And I was kind of turned on by the thought of me getting to fuck someone for a change.

“Okay,” I repeated. “Just as long as you’re sure.”

Fortunately, we’d had our share of anal play when Bud was in the mood to pound my cornhole. I kind of enjoyed it. Getting fucked in the ass always seemed to give me a kind of nuclear orgasm that went way the hell past your regular kind of female sexual explosion.

So why shouldn’t Bud enjoy me fucking his ass as well?

In fact, if you get right down to it, wasn’t I being a bad wife by never thinking of offering this sort of rear-end action?

So let’s right down to it.

I strapped up the belt-on rhino-ram, feeling a little like a gunfighter in an old-time western movie. The strap-on dildo wasn’t uncomfortable or all that heavy. In fact, I actually enjoyed feeling that extra bit of heft. I always wondered what it might feel like to have an erection.

I kind of liked the feeling it gave me.

It kind of felt powerful.

It kind of felt sexy.

“Bend over and show me your ass,” I told Bud. “I want to tongue you out to relax your rear end pucker and get you nice and wet.”

“This isn’t going to hurt, is it?” he asked.

Oh my God.

I didn’t laugh.

I knew that he was serious. I knew he wanted me to do this, but he was scared as well.

“Just like you said,” I replied patiently. “You’ve been sticking your thing in me for years and it’s never hurt. I’ll go easy. You can trust me.”

And then he chuckled ruefully and I just smiled, because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings any more than I wanted to hurt his butthole.

So I gave him the rimjob of the century, pushing my tongue in so deeply that I was touching farts that he hadn’t even thought of yet. I remembered how he’d spent a good part of the evening in the shower, getting himself cleaned up. I’d have to thank him afterward for being so damn thoughtful in his hygiene.

Then I lubed up that big dildo and began to ease it into his asshole.

“Ummmm,” he moaned deeply, just like I always moaned whenever he entered with his big, loving cock. I felt my pussy getting wet at the thought of what I was doing with my husband.

Then, once I’d got him all loosened up I began to bear down and get serious about the fucking. He started moaning even louder, calling out my name and asking me to fuck him even harder.

I reached around his waist and wrapped my fist around his cock. I could feel precum oozing out of his cock-slit and I had the feeling that just me fucking him like I was doing would have been more than enough to bring him off, but at that point of the lovemaking I wanted to feel him coming, so I ran my fist up and down his cock while I continued to pound that big strap-on battering ram into his ass.

“Fuck me,” Bud shouted. “Fuck my ass. Fuck, fuck, fuck me!”

I don’t think I have ever felt him come as strongly as he did when he finally let go of his load. I mean, I probably could have gone white water rafting in that gush of sperm that shot out of his erection.

Somewhere deep inside a part of me was almost a little jealous of that big silicon scud missile strap-on; while another part of me was so damn happy to give my husband this kind of pleasure.

Either way, he rolled me over and ate my pussy into orgasm like he was practicing for the next Sexual Olympics.

Honestly, at that part of the evening, I was so damn worked up that I think I could have readily orgasmed if Bud had just leaned over and whispered the word “orgasm” to me.

What can I tell you?

Sometimes it is better to give than to receive.


Don’t worry your escapades are safe with us.








Shhh…I never dreamed he would ask me to do this sort of thing…

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