A True Story by Sue
Like most, after eleven years of marriage, you think that you know all about your spouse - good and bad. For me, this certainly was not the case. All in all, Dan and I have a pretty good life. We married early (we were both 20) and decided to put off starting a family until we were further established in our careers. Dan worked hard to build a successful commercial contracting business, while I worked through school and first became an RN at a local hospital and then, after six years, moved on to become one of the principle nurses at a fast growing private medical practice. For us both, the money is very good, but the hours can be brutal. We have a beautiful house and yard, nice cars, and all the toys that we could want.
What we also had was a deteriorating sex life. I'm not sure when it started, but over the past year the "issue", as we called it, had gotten worse. No, it wasn't the loss of attraction for the other. We both keep fit by working out regularly, although I haven't been able to quit indulging in an occasional cigarette. I can still attract a look when I am in my bikini. And my 36C's haven't started looking for the ground. Victoria's Secret knows my credit card by heart. And while I honestly cannot say that I am on the same league as the catalogue models, I still look pretty good in a silk teddy or garter belt and push up bra.
The "issue" is not unique and has affected many couples. Over a period of months, Dan's ability to hold back his orgasm became shorter and shorter. What started out as a conclusion to our intercourse after five minutes turned into a "hair trigger" where Dan actually comes before entering my vagina. As his premature ejaculation became worse our frustrations grew. Soon, we were putting off sex for fear of failure. God forbid if I tried to give him oral sex (which I used to love to do). We tried to work through it, following all the guidance generally listed in books and on the internet. Trying the "stop/start" technique for weeks, the glans squeeze, and other positions. I even got used to the routine where I would stroke him to hardness and, as he would turn to enter me, come in my hand. Then we would cuddle for awhile after which he would fall asleep and leave me to finish up with my vibrator which I purchased from a mail order company. Treating this as "our problem" I urged Dan that we go to a doctor. We have a very good urologist in our association. I offered to make an appointment.
Always kissing me, he told me, "We will work through it."
October was a glorious month. Our social life was quite busy with parties and dinners to go to. Saturday's club dinner was especially elegant where it was "formal" and Dan looked so handsome in his tux. I know that he liked my gown and especially liked the sheer bra, garters, and stockings that I wore underneath (I could tell by the bulge in his pants as we were dressing). Anticipating a well earned evening of sex, we promised each other to leave the dinner early. Unfortunately, this was not to be. Too many friends, too many conversations, and too many drinks delayed our get away. Instead of lustily stripping each other's clothes off, we undressed and promptly fell asleep on the bed.
I awoke Sunday morning, horny as hell. As usual, Dan was up before me - probably downstairs in his home office getting caught up with paperwork. This morning I was going to surprise him. We have plenty of time this morning to take it nice and slow. Going to my dresser, I pulled out the black silk teddy that he liked so well. I then went to the bathroom to freshen up. While taking the time to wash up, brush my teeth and hair, and apply a light layer of makeup, I decided to make myself extra appealing and give myself a douche. Not wanting to take too much time, I decided to forgo the folding bag and use the expandable hand bag. While not easily found these days, these syringes have the benefits of holding up to two quarts while not requiring a lot of time to set up and use. I poured the Zonite into the bag and filled it half way full. Sitting down on the toilet, I eased the nozzle into my labia. Shutting my eyes, I could vision that instead of the nozzle, it was Dan's cock. Sighing, I pushed the nozzle into the bag letting the solution flow and drain from my sex. After drying myself, I slid into the teddy, positioned my breasts within its cups for maximum effect, and crept downstairs to Dan's office. I so wanted to make this sexual encounter work for Dan and I. We both deserved it.
Quietly, I tiptoed downstairs to his office. Turning the corner, I bolted to a stop by the sight I encountered. There was Dan sitting in his leather office chair in front of his laptop with his sweat pants down to his ankles. Eyes shut, he was masturbating like crazy. Perhaps like most women, I could never understand the origins of all the slang associated with male masturbation. "Beating the meat", "Jerking or jacking off", "Pulling the pud". In an instant, I now appreciated these descriptions. Dan would forcefully stoke his penis five or six times like his life depended on it. His grip was so strong and the strokes so fast that his testicles were literally slapping the seat of his chair. He would then stop and squeeze his shaft, milking precome out of the head which he would then coat his hand for another round of stroking. I stood mesmerized by the scene, not daring to even breathe. I was also pissed that he would do this instead of being with me. I don't know if I made a sound or if Dan had a sixth sense, but suddenly his eyes snapped open and seeing me he could only utter, "Oh no." "Sue, I…"
Cutting him off in anger, I replied, "Shut up and sit right there!" Storming around the corner into the den I grabbed my pocket book and went to the bathroom. Pulling out some tissues and picking up the water glass, I marched back into the office. I grabbed the other chair and swiveled back so I was now sitting in front of him. Figuring that if he was going to partake in his vice, I would do likewise, I pulled a cigarette from my pocketbook, lit it and took a deep drag to steady my nerves. I knew how much Dan didn't like for me to smoke in the house, but I thought "fuck him". His cock was now semi hard. Dan was obviously embarrassed and scared. Eyeing him coolly, I started the conversation. "Well Danny boy, you might as well finish what you started" and tossed the tissue to him.
"What do you mean?"
"Start stroking", I replied.
Again, I cut him off. "Shut up." While taking another drag from the cigarette, I reached down with my free hand and unsnapped the crotch of my teddy. Pulling the fabric away from my sex, I continued, "This could have been yours. But you chose otherwise. Get pumping you bastard."
Dan was too frightened to argue. He obediently started stroking in earnest. To give him more incentive, I started playing with my labia. Faster and faster he pumped, all the while I would puff on my cigarette and insert a finger into my rapidly leaking vagina. I have to admit, this was a terrific turn on for me. Breathing hard, he was rapidly approaching his climax. Within minutes, Dan's body tensed up and he held his breath.
"Take your hand away, now!" I commanded. He did as he was told and immediately, his cock started to spew come. Each contraction would cause his penis to jump two or three inches as the spurts arched all over the tile floor. After five or six contractions he slumped back in is chair, spent, gasping for air.
Stubbing out the remainder of my smoke, I barked, "You're not done yet. Wipe this up and get over here on your knees." Danny quickly followed my orders and as he knelt in front of me, I grabbed his head and pulled him to my sex. "Eat and eat me like your life depends on it." He immediately started lapping at my hardened clit. Soon, it was I who was panting. My climb to orgasm was rapid and intense. "Finger me", I ordered. The combination of his tongue and swirling finger took me over the edge. My muscles tensed and my vagina both ballooned and compressed as all my reproductive organs started to spasm. A scream escaped my lips as I felt the hot liquid of a G-Spot orgasm, squirt out of my lips. Danny stopped and moved away as I sat back, crumpled in the chair. Minutes went by without a word.
Dan broke the silence, "Sue, I am so sorry."
"How often have you been doing this?" I asked.
"About a couple of times a week", Dan replied. "But…….
"Shut up", I replied. "I don't want to talk about this now." "Maybe later or tomorrow."
He knew better than to pursue a conversation now. I got up and went upstairs, leaving him to think about what happened. Quite honestly, my mind was reeling as well. I pulled off my teddy and stepped into the shower. As the water cascaded over me I was lost in thought. What are the next steps here? He obviously has been doing this for awhile. I remembered some medical literature that I had read: Chronic Masturbation. I didn't read that chapter, because our problem was premature ejaculation. Or so I thought.
As I was getting dressed, Dan appeared and started to apologize. Again, I told him that I didn't want to talk about it. He reminded me that he had a golf match today and asked if it was all right for him to go. For Dan to ask permission to golf certainly indicated the severity of the situation that he knew he was in. Needless to say, I told him to get lost for the whole day as I wanted to be alone. He quickly showered, dressed and left.
Following our usual ritual, I retrieved the Sunday newspaper and attempted to read it. My thoughts kept drifting to the events of this morning. I couldn't lose the image of his masturbatory urgency, the explosiveness of his climax, his semen shooting all over the floor. Getting up, I went over to our less than organized library. Where was that book? What was the title? Rummaging around, I moved books here and there. Ah ha! I found it. Male Sexuality a Clinical Analysis. Thinking that this was going to be a long read, I curled up in a comfortable chair and began my fascinating journey.
A couple of hours later, I had a fresh perspective on the situation. Masturbation is common in all men, starting at puberty. While once considered a health and religious issue, masturbation is no longer treated as a behavioral problem. However, if it becomes a prevalent practice, particularly when other avenues of sexual gratification are available (such as marriage), it can be considered chronic. Frequently, pornography is used to facilitate masturbation, as the male is more attuned to visual stimulation. Of interest was the information relating to ejaculatory response. Frequently, chronic masturbators develop premature ejaculation tendencies as they work to achieve orgasm before being detected and/or interrupted. The quick response is a reflex learned or conditioned through frequent masturbation. In teenagers and younger men, this condition is usually temporary, where longer pre-ejaculatory periods are achieved through experiences gained in contemporary relationships with a partner. For some chronic masturbators with deeply conditioned behaviors, therapies could include hormonal regulation, depressants, psychological regiments, and aversion therapies.
Well, there is no way that I could get Dan to see a doctor given this information. No way would he state the reason for the appointment was, "I want to be evaluated for chronic masturbation." Somehow, this situation was going to be worked here, at home. I needed more information. Wanting to get online I again went into Dan's office to use our computer. Seeing that Dan's notebook was still on, I figured I'd use that to conduct my search. Here, I had my second shock of the day.
Pulling up the web, I found that Dan hadn't closed what he was reading. The site was called "Speculumpages", and the story that he was reading was "Helen Shows Me How". How prolific. The story was about a premature ejaculator whose girlfriend gets so frustrated with him that she does him anally with a strap on dildo. As I read the piece, I could feel my face become flushed - partially in anger, partially in arousal. Although pretty extreme, I had to admit that it was a pretty good read. I looked through the history of what Danny was reading taking note at the titles, "My Wife Takes Control", "Prostate Exam", etc. In looking at the various pages of this site, it was clear to me that its main theme was medical fetishes. I couldn't believe the number of stories involving enemas. While Dan and I have watched an occasional x rated movie, I didn't think of him as the kinky type. The more I read, the more heated up I became.
Needing a release, I went back upstairs to the bedroom. I frantically found my vibrator, dropped my shorts and panties and feverishly went to work. My trusty vibrator. I had made a good purchase those months ago. This was one of those "rabbit" or "twig" vibrators with the moving shaft and the clit bud. In one motion, I sunk the tool home. Being so wet, the vibrator slid easily up my vagina. I clicked on the power pack and the shaft began stoking my vaginal walls while the bud hummed merrily on my clit. Within minutes I was stroking the toy in and out, simulating a good fucking. I couldn't control my motions. My body was jerking and heaving uncontrollably. Suddenly, I crested. One long hard rolling orgasm hit. My vagina contracted with such strength that I had all I could do to hold the vibrator in. Finally, I let go and the toy popped out, still buzzing away. Gasping for air, I slowly rolled over, shut it off, laid back to think, and fell asleep.
When I awoke, I quickly dressed, grabbed the unopened mail, and went to sit on the patio. While sorting through the bills and the catalogues, I couldn't get the day's events out of my mind. There were a number of themes at play here: frequent masturbation, probably contributing to premature ejaculation, medical fetishes, and dare I say some level of submissiveness. One thing for certain, going forward, I was going to figure out a way to stop Dan from playing with himself. I began to glance through and stack the catalogues. Being an RN and being in "The Trade" as it were, I receive many health related catalogues. They range from vitamin companies to home nursing care. A number of them were delivered this week.
I glanced through them to see if there was anything of interest. Home nursing seems to be a growing business. There were two catalogues listing everything from wheelchairs to incontinence supplies. Damn, I thought, it's tough getting old. Suddenly, I stopped the page turning. Sitting right in front of me was an item that might, just might, be useful in my addressing the situation with Dan. The apparatus was called a sheath urinal. Designed for men to cope with their incontinence, it was an athletic supporter that had a latex sheath snapped into it. The penis was placed into the sheath which then could be attached by surgical tubing to a variety of leg and floor collection bags.
The literature stated that it was ideal for "active men". Boy, could I describe Danny as being "active". The literature also stated that this design was ideal where it was undetectable under clothing and the urinal didn't need to be removed for bowel movements. If anything, this would keep Danny from playing with his cock. Noting that the phone number to order was 24 by 7, I immediately went into the house and placed a call. The woman who took my order was very helpful. She asked some questions about "the patient's" incontinence: what it stress related, was it the result of surgery, was the patient ambulatory, etc.
Finally, she suggested buying three units (so one could be worn while the others are washed). She also suggested getting two 16 ounce latex leg bags with straps and one 32 ounce bag for sleeping and they would throw in a six foot length of surgical tubing. She noted that the sheath itself was seven inches long and could hold 5 ounces of fluid when it was used just with its end cap on. I gave her Danny's waist size, my credit card number and placed the order. In closing, the woman stated that the order would be shipped immediately and should arrive in two days and best wishes in working with my "patient". "Lady", I thought, "You don't know how right you are."
Dan arrived home in another hour or two not in the best of moods. He was still very upset from the morning's events, so upset that he blew the golf match. He again tried to apologize, asking forgiveness. I continued to put him off stating that we will talk about it later in the week.
On Monday and Tuesday we both kept an awkward silence. Dan left for work early both days to avoid seeing me. Monday night he called to say he was working late and for me to have dinner without him. I know that he was waiting for me to make the next move. Tuesday, I arrived home and was pleasantly surprised by a big Fed Ex package waiting by the door. Scooping it up, I went in the house and, as always, checked the phone messages. Predictably, there was a voicemail from Dan saying that he was working late and to eat without me. Good, I thought, this will give me time to get ready.
My heart was pounding as I went out to the patio. I lit a cigarette and proceeded to examine the contents of the package. The three athletic supporters were pretty much like common jock straps except for the sewn hole and snaps for the penis sheath. The sheaths and leg bags were of a natural latex, much like the old folding douche bag that I used to use. The night bag was of clear plastic. I snapped one of the sheaths into the jock and unscrewed the end cap. Next, I screwed on the drain hose fitting. I realized that I would not be able to complete the connection to the leg bag without a fitting on Dan. Finally, I examined the sheath, noting the conical inner flange that is stretched over the penis to insure a leak proof seal. The instructions stated that this flange could be trimmed back to accommodate different sized penises. I decided the tighter and more uncomfortable the better and left the flange alone.
Carrying the gear back into the house, I called Dan's cell phone.
"Yes?" he answered.
"I want you home now", I responded.
"Sue", he replied, somewhat surprised. "I'm glad you called."
"Get home now", I repeated. "We talk tonight."
"Uh, sure. I'm on my way." He stammered as I hung up.
I went upstairs to the bedroom and laid out one urinal, the surgical tubing, and a leg bag. Next, I placed the night bag next to Dan's side of the bed. Moving to the bathroom, I pulled my shaving cream and razor out from the bathtub. The sheaths gave me an idea. I rummaged under the bathroom vanity, moving accumulated boxes of shampoo, tampons, and cleaning supplies. Just as I was thinking that I must have thrown it out, I found the object of my search. There in its old carrying case was my old folding douche bag. Unzipping the case, I was delighted to find that the bag was still was usable and that the hose, nozzle, hook, and clamp were still there. I left it out on the sink. Finally, to complete my preparations, I went to my closet and found one of my old nursing uniforms. As I was pulling off my top and slacks, I heard the garage door opening. Quickly, I kicked my clothes into the closet and wearing just a bra and panties, pulled the uniform on, leaving the front zipper down to show off some of my cleavage.
The downstairs door opened and I heard Dan's familiar steps. I walked down to greet him. A puzzled look crossed his face as he saw me in my clinical garb.
"Sit down", I interrupted. "Danny, we are going to correct this behavior of yours, once and for all. From this point forward, you are in my care and will not argue or contradict me or not follow your treatment. Is this understood?"
Dan, realizing that he was in deep shit could only mumble, "Yes, I will do what you say."
Walking over to him, I took his hand and said, "Then let us begin. Go up to the bedroom and remove all of your clothes."
I followed Dan up the stairs, wondering how the next 30 minutes were going to turn out. Without question, the growing dampness at my crotch betrayed the fact that I was getting turned on by all of this. Upon entering the bedroom, Danny saw the gear on the bed.
"What the hell is this?" he stammered.
Walking around, I stood defiantly in front of him. "This is your training regimen. You can think of this as a male chastity belt. Your days of secretly jerking off are at an end. Now take off your clothes and join me in the bathroom."
Dan quickly did as he was told, pulling off his clothes, as I started running water in the sink for his "prep". Upon entering the bathroom, it was apparent to me, from his growing erection, that he was getting aroused by the events so far. We'll see how long that lasts, I thought. Ordering him to spread his legs, I took a warm wash cloth and ran it around his balls and now rigid cock. He remained silent as I smeared shaving cream around his dick and sack and methodically began to shave him. Once satisfied that his skin was nice and smooth, I wiped the remaining cream off. This first step was really getting to him, as more and more pre-come started leaking from the head of his penis.
"You will be shaved weekly, if not more frequently depending on how fast the hair grows back", I announced. "Now follow me."
Going back to the bedroom, I took the jock and opened the leg straps for Danny to step into. Obediently, he raised one foot and then the other into the openings while I pulled the waist band up, but not quite, to his hips. Now, for the main event. Stretching the flange with two fingers, I pulled the sheath up and over his penis. The pre-come helped lubricate the latex and allowed me to pull his hard on all the way into the sheath. Stepping back to see the fit, I was pleased to see that there was only about a half an inch of clearance between the head of his penis and the end of the sheath. He won't be able to stroke this bad boy now! There Danny stood, in this tight fitting jock with his erection pulsing up and down in the amber latex.
"How does it feel?" I inquired.
"Uncomfortable and tight", Dan replied.
"Good!" I responded, as I looked at his cute butt framed by the leg straps. "You're going to have to get used to it, because you will be wearing these nonstop for quite awhile."
"But how am I going to take a piss or take a shower?" Dan pleaded.
Stepping up so I was right in his face, I reached down and grabbed the sheath and squeezed. I could feel the heat of his penis through the latex.
"I told you no arguments. You will do as I say. Now shut up while I finish setting this up." I hissed.
He gasped as I let go and turned to pick up the leg bag and tubing. Strapping the bag to the inside of Dan's left calf; I attached a length of tubing and carefully snipped enough off to allow a comfortable connection to the end of the sheath. Next, I again took the sheath and squeezed it tight around Dan's cock, getting all the air out of it and attached the hose.
"You're going to urinate in these both day and night. You will even wear this in the shower as I will have a fresh appliance for you to put on every day. I don't want you jerking off in the shower. Here is how you empty the bag." I showed Dan how to open the drain valve.
We were now at the final step of this "orientation". I went back to the bathroom, ran the water until hot, and filled my douche bag. Hanging it on the shower door, I called out for Dan to get in here. With his sheath still standing straight out, he entered to doorway and halted to a stop. His voice cracking, he stammered, "What is this?"
"Why, it's your enema. Final part of the training my dear. These will be administered weekly." I cheerfully replied. "Now get on your elbows and knees, facing the door."
He quickly dropped to his knees as ordered. The sheath enclosing his rigid cock pulsed at the floor. Tucking a hand towel under the leg straps to protect in case of a spill, I quickly grabbed the douche nozzle and sank it home. I snapped the clip open and Dan grunted as the first wave of water entered his bowels. Soon he was gasping as the bag drained to half full. Momentarily, I stopped the flow and reached under him to give his cock four hard strokes within the confides of the sheath.
"Ow, that hurts," Danny cried out.
"It is supposed to", I replied while restarting the flow.
Soon Danny was cramping, his butt and hips twitching uncontrollably. I stopped the flow twice more while giving him the stroke treatment. Finally, the bag was empty. After a five minute wait, I allowed him the use of the toilet, giving him the dignity of relieving himself in private. After awhile, he came out and walked sheepishly over the bed. The first treatment seemed to have an effect as his penis was slowly losing its harness. No doubt realizing that it was not going to reach a climax this day. Exhausted, Dan asked if it was all right to climb into bed and sleep. Agreeing, I helped him take off the leg bag and attached a new longer hose with a shut off clamp between the sheath and the night bag next to the bed. Soon, he was asleep.
I went downstairs to have a cigarette and calm myself. My panties were soaked. While sitting outside under the darkening skies, I reached under the waistband and fingered myself to a quick orgasm. Returning to the bedroom, I put on my nightshirt and climbed into bed. Dan grunted as I slid under the covers. While shutting my eyes, I heard the tell tale sound of liquid draining into the night bag. Danny was obviously getting with the program. Step one of a long training period had begun. Smiling to myself, I drifted off to sleep.