Two Minutes and 52 Seconds

Thinking about it, my aims may be very different from others who read sex blogs. I am not reading to be titillated, I suppose. Now, there is a challenge. Is it possible to write an absolutely honest account of sex and still be arousing? Anyone up to it?


'Barbed Wire Boudoir', 17th March 2008



Well, seeing as May has already brought with it some blogging challenges, why not this one? Hopefully it shouldn’t be too difficult as I like to think that my self-deprecation is a part of my winsome charm. If it were not so then I might have chosen another nom de plume, possibly the Scandinavian Stallion, rather than the Fat Controller. No, Heather does not orgasm the instant I enter her. In fact I’ve never known her to come purely vaginally at all. No, she doesn't have three or four orgasms in quick succession before gushing all over the bed. Nor does she greedily swallow my boiling hot semen and then, craving still more, lick my cock clean of every last drop.

Despite this, we still manage to have great sex. Sex which I think is worth writing about.

Now please do not think for a minute that I am dismissing the writings of multi-orgamic, gushing, spunk-loving bloggers out there as being no more than flights of fantasy or wishful thinking. Far from it, everyones’ experience of sex is different and to be honest I am sometimes a little envious when I read other’s experiences. I would love Heather to melt into a helpless orgasmic blancmange every time I give it to her hard from behind but I know that just ain’t going to happen, thats just not how she’s put together. What she needs is careful loving attention to her clit and that I am more than happpy to give her.

Right from the outset of doing this blog I wrote in my profile ’Everything you read here is true’. There would no point in it being otherwise. I can’t write erotic fiction, others are much better at it than I, so I have opted for a more reportage style. On the other hand, how do you really report the experience of sex in a detached, dispassionate and factual way? How do you describe a feeling that is like nothing else on earth except in terms of similie and metaphor. How do you coldly analyse senses and feelings when they are temporarily put on hold. When all sights, sounds and even pain are blocked out as your whole being becomes focussed on one goal and one only?

Approaching the problem from another direction, a purely mechanistic one: How do you make ’Two minutes and 52 seconds of squelching noises’ sound arousing? Well, here goes.


I am normally the first into bed of an evening. I lie waiting for Heather while she finishes up in the bathroom, comes into the bedroom, finishes undressing, takes the glass from the bedside table, retraces her steps into the bathroom to fill it, comes back in, remembers she has left her mobile phone downstairs, slips on a dressing gown and goes to retrieve it before finally snuggling up in bed beside me.

This evening it was different. When I got into the bedroom she was already in bed. Or, more accurately ON bed. Naked on top of the rumpled duvet, all pink and rounded and inviting, arms stretched out but one leg drawn coyly up to cover her pubic area from my gaze. I crawled across the bed to her and crouched over her, kissing neck, breasts and finally lips while she reached down between my legs and took hold of my cock.

I worked my way down her body, kissing as I went, until I ended up with my nose in her pubic hair. Anyone who tells you that giving cunnilingus through a mat of pubic hair is at best unpleasant and at worst impossible probably hasn’t tried it. Heather is hairy and proud of it and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The way the hair captures and disseminates her scent is deeply arousing to me, and that is part of it’s function. I spent a while just breathing in her musk.

The gentlest tap on the backs of her legs and she hoisted them up in the air so that I could lie across her and bury my face in her cunt. I went straight for the clit and rolled it around with the tip of my tongue. One arm lay across the backs of her legs to keep them there while with the thumb of the other hand I dipped inside her and smeared her juices down over her perineum. All the while I could feel her tensing, hear her sharp intakes of breath. She clearly liked it when I slid my thumb over her perineum, so I switched around, dipping my tongue into her cunt juices and brushing it down to the very rim of her areshole while my thumb covered her clit and massaged it. The increasing frequency of her sighs were all the enouragement I needed to tell me I was doing the right thing.

In my fantasy world I would have licked and massaged Heather to the first of several orgasms, but the truth is that she cannot really come unless her legs are pressed tightly together. A radical change of position was called for: I lay flat on my back beside her, my head by her feet, then lifted my ’inner’ leg so that it lay over her chest, and she did the same. In this position we are in an entirely relaxed posture, ideal for mutual masturbation. Now I could slip two, then three, fingers up inside her, the thumb covering her clit and the little finger free to take care of her arse. On this occasion I didn’t push it right in, I just crooked the finger and let the knuckle press up against the opening.

The thought crossed my mind that we could just lie here and wank each other off, she twisting on my hand and me spurting over my belly under her ministrations, but there comes a point where nothing but penetration will do, for me or for her. I had her lift her legs again, laid crossways on my side and slid into her. Somehow I managed to find her clit with my thumb again and alternated between hip-thrusting and hand-jiggling: I just can’t do both at the same time and maintain any sort of rhythm. Then, as her breaths grew shorter and sharper again I pushed up inside her as deep as I could manage and rubbed her to her orgasm.

Now I have no idea how intense Heather’s orgasms are in relation to other people’s but they have always seemed pretty intense to me, on the other hand she has never been one for multiple orgams, being quite content with one big one. This one just went on and on, gaining a momentum of its own as I started thrusting with my hips again and took hold of a nipple, squeezing it as hard as I dared to take her even higher.

It wasn’t a simultaneous orgasm. Heather had peaked and I was letting her down gently by the time I came. I’m not sure simultaneous orgasm is all it’s cracked up to be anyway. I’d much rather take care of her first then finish myself off afterwards. Double the pleasure.



So there you have it. A completely factual account of the most recent of the thousands of times I have made love with my wife. Completely devoid of hyperbolae, similies and metaphors and with adjectives shorn to the bare minimum.

I enjoyed re-living the experience…how was it for you?