Ladies, don’t hate me. Men, don’t hate him.
What I am about to tell you crosses boundaries. While this lady-like pervert speaks often, and candidly, about sex, sexual experiences, sexual preferences, and aspects of my marital life, the details of Mr. and Mrs. Pervert’s sex life are kept rather vague. Admittedly, my readers are versed that we partake, but I generally keep the details somewhat obscure.
Not today my friends, not today.
Consider this a rare and juicy treat, and a shameless display of raunchy kiss and tell.
In Broke (click here to read Broke), I shared that my husband had a sexy, romantic clue game in the works, sending me email instructions, or clues, that were all leading up to me taking an overnight bag to work with me on Monday. That was yesterday.
Monday morning I head to work freshly waxed, lotioned and with black lace underwear beneath my work attire. Hubby kisses me good-bye in the morning and tells me to be prepared for several different forms of communication throughout my day.
The first of which came at lunch time; a stunning bouquet of pink, exotic flowers with a card. I open the card full of sweet, almost cheesy lines about love, and Hubby has inscribed a personal message professing he loves more and more every single day. And there is a clue. He’s included $60 cash in the card and informs me that I will need this cash for later… more instructions to follow. Hm. I carry plastic and he knows it, what do I need this cash for?
Two hours later he texts me his next message: A cab limo will be at the front doors of your work at 3:30. Get in. It’s already paid for. He knows where to take you. Text me when you get in. Squeal!!
When the cab pulls up to get me, I pile in the back seat with a stupid teethy grin plastered all over my face.
“Do you know who I am??” I ask him quickly. And in an almost hushed voice, I add on, “Do you know where I am going??” And then I start to laugh hysterically. I laugh because once the words have left my mouth, I realize that if this is someone else cab, I look crazy. I laugh hysterically because I look even crazier laughing my head off after my initial display of crazy. All of this is confirmed when the gentleman stares blankly at me as I compose myself and we share an awkward moment of silence before he says “Are you Mrs. Pervert?”
I sheepishly mumble “Yes” and he starts the car. We say nothing but I catch him eyeing me in the rear view mirror several times. I text Hubby: I’m in the car.
He texts me back: You’re on your way to the spa. They know you are coming and what to do to you.
This time I squeal out loud and I’m met with suspicious eyes in the rear view mirror again.
When I walk in to the spa, I can tell that they know who I am before I even say it. I say “Hi, I’m Mrs. Pervert” anyways and I’m met with coy nods.
A woman approaches me and asks me if I’d like a glass of wine with my pedicure and manicure, and I resist the urge to say Duh?
I’m sipping my wine and playing on my Blackberry while my feet are being soaked and rubbed, when the next text comes in: Chicken or steak?
I answer steak.
He replies: The cab will be back to get you at 5:40. Just get in.
Squeal!
My co-workers, the dumbfounded cab driver, the receptionist and my manicurist are all aware and part of Hubby’s mysterious sexy scavenger hunt. When the next cab limo driver pulls up, while I am using the cash my husband left me for tips, my manicurist runs out to the cab and then sprints back into the spa yelling “I know where you are going next!!” Collective squeals from everybody (even the metro-slash-homo-sexual male stylist.)
The sweet young receptionist was the only one all day that gave me a sly “I know where this hunt is going to lead you and it’s kinky as hell!” look. The elderly gentleman that took me to my final destination, from the spa to a luxurious hotel, took the opposite approach, rather, “What you are about to do is just so darn dirty and sinful I must not make eye contact with you” look. Meh. Whatever.
Judge McJudgeAlot drops me off at the hotel entrance and is passing me over to the hotel bell man when my next text comes in: Top floor. Rm 1110. Knock when you get here.
I’m so freakin’ excited by now that I dash through the gorgeous lobby and smack the button for the elevator a dozen times before it opens. There is a young bohemian looking guy already in there who gives me a sexy look over and says “What floor?”
“ELEVEN!” I shout when I’m excited. Ooops. Whatever, he smells like pot.
Coming off the elevator I am grinning from ear to ear and almost skipping down the hall, and when I reach room 1110 it takes all of my self control not to kick the door off of its hinges. I knock.
When the door opens, Hubby is standing there with a smile on his face that I have only ever seen once before. It’s the same smile he wore as he watched me come down the aisle in a white wedding gown eleven years ago. He’s smiling so deeply that his eyes almost look like they are crying but his expression is of joy and not pain. We are both beaming but greet each other with shy hello’s.
I fly into his arms and land my loving kisses, happily mock-scolding him with “What did you do?” His lips are quivering when I kiss him. I can tell he is nervous.
“I just love you sweety…” He is saying but my attention now drifts to what is behind him. He’s gotten a beautiful suite, and the portion that I can see is covered in tea light candles. The curtains are drawn, the lights are out, but the room is glowing with the softest and most beautiful candle light. He looks so handsome in his button down and when I pull him in for more hugs and kisses, he smells amazing. Handing me a glass of wine, he listens to me gush about my flowers, the spa, etc, but a knock on the door interrupts my flow. It’s room service, and she’s bringing in platters of food, the pinnacle being a medium-rare steak covered in béarnaise and jumbo shrimps the size of small bananas!
“Oh my god, it looks so pretty in here!” She says as she arranges the food on our table, and I smile at her. We exchange a quick look that would be the male equivalent of a smack on the ass. Her eyes said “Go get him Tiger!” and mine said “Amen sista!”
“I wonder if that girl thinks you’re a hooker?” Hubby starts to chatter as we begin to eat.
“That’s funny because I thought that she thought I was your mistress! Think about how often she sees this… I mean, really, a married man can’t take his mistress out to a romantic restaurant. They probably just hole up in a sexy hotel room and eat then fuck.” I predict.
“Totally.” He agrees.
That entertains us for a bit while we eat and entangle our limbs on the couch. Dinner is absolutely fantastic, and we take a tiny breather since we are getting so full. It’s during this breather that Hubby takes my face into his hands and says with more conviction than I have ever seen him display, “Mrs. Pervert, I couldn’t love you any more. You make me a better man. You give our children an amazing mother. You are everything.” The rest of his words and what we said to each other were beautiful, heartfelt, and private.
With dinner done, and another glass of delicious red wine in my hand, he says to me seductively, “Are you ready for dessert?”
“Um, yep.” I say nervously and he slips behind the French doors that divide the suite to the bedroom. He’s lighting candles and fumbling through packages, so I take the opportunity to display a little initiative by removing my clothes and waiting for him in my black lace undergarments, leaving on a string of long pearls for a nice lady-like effect. I also quickly flossed my teeth, because that’s what a lady would do too.
When he comes back out he’s got his shirt off and his pants casually undone, but gives me a spectacular “Wow…” before he kisses me and leads me into the bedroom. Again, candles everywhere. Gorgeous.
“Are we having dessert?” I ask, a little confused.
Laying me on the bed, he smiles and responds “Of course. You’re going to be my dessert buffet.” Oh snap!
Moments later, he’s feeding me chocolate covered strawberries, and strategically placing raspberries and blueberries on my various peaks and valleys. The nibbling is making me crazy, until he whips out the chocolate syrup and whipped cream, spending a considerable amount of time lapping it up like a kitten. He lingers then focuses on my valley.
The culmination of the day’s events and the amount of forethought he had put into our experience was swirling in my brain and I was considering a way to ‘make it up to him’. Finished my own fabulous orgasm, I push him off me and say “Stand against the wall.”
Knowing that this will probably be my one and only time during this entire day and night to give him something that is purely for his own enjoyment, I proceed to give him the best, most seductive, award winning blow job that I can summon from my depths. His knees go weak and I think he’s going to lose his mind with me knelt before him; hands and mouth performing like champions.
The night continues as such. Sex then shower. Wine then sex. More showers, more wine.
I think that the ‘night’ is over… but I am wrong. We’re snuggling on the couch and Hubby says to me “I got you a present.”
Back into the bedroom he goes and comes out a minute later to present me with a genuine, God sent piece of heaven. An 8-9inch, slightly curved, perfect girth, cyberskin, black and beautiful dildo. Proudly he says to me “It’s not even U3, sweety, it’s U5!”
“Shut up, it is not!”
“It is!”
THIS is Marcus. Named after porn star. I love him. *dreamy sigh*
“Good GOD!”
“I know!”
He hands it to me and says “This is Marcus.”
I whisper “Hello Marcus…”
“I checked your blog penis size chart and he fits the bull’s eye perfectly. Not too big and not too small.”
“Perfect…” I whisper again. I’m so smitten I am tongue tied.
For the next few moments we sit on the couch and are chattering back and forth about the fact that it’s a U5 and not a U3, the same manner that car buffs discuss Porches and Ferraris. I was dying to talk ‘Mommy-Daddy shop talk’ with him at this point. To tell him about the cheap flights I found for our January Florida vacation, the Disney ticket specials, the so-and-so who pissed me off at work today, the question I had about our property tax account… but I didn’t. Tonight we were lovers, and that is all. We were both still naked so he says to me “Go into the bathroom and put on what you find in the closet.”
I dutifully oblige.
In a bag in the closet I find a new outfit. It’s a hot pink bustier and panty set that is lined with black lace details. It’s got suspender straps down the thighs for me to attach the fishnet thigh-high stockings that he has provided. As icing on the cake, he’s included my black knee-high leather boots. I put the outfit on and give my hair a sexy tousle before I come out to make an appearance.
The look on his face is almost as priceless as the kick ass blow job that I had given him. He’s muttering Oh my God’s at me, and I’m blushing as he showers me with “You look so fucking hot!”
Ladies and gentlemen, these are words that I’d thought you’d never hear from me, but what happened next was ‘the first time’ I have ever had this done to me: Mid-makeout, Hubby starts to place a blindfold over my eyes. Interesting, I think to myself. Taking me by the hands, he walks me into the bedroom again, only directs me to the chair in the corner and sits me in it. Hm, I am thinking. Gently taking my wrists and ankles, I hear Velcro snapping and can feel that he is strapping me into the chair. Okay…, my brain is agreeing. All of this is uncharted territory to me.
Being blindfolded and bound while Mr. Perv had his way with me was not as hot as I thought it would be. I didn’t feel trapped or out of control, like some women say, I just felt useless. As if I wanted to participate but I couldn’t. Needless to say I was not bummed when I was released and tossed on to the bed.
It was on the bed that I had my first taste of Marcus. Wow… Marcus!
Can I just tell you that I discovered my absolute favourite penis size?! There is a reason that the 8-9inchers are the Holy Grail, and I certainly felt it with Marcus. Although we weren’t able to put the whole thing inside me, what did go in made me moan like humpback. In fact, when he first slid in, I cried out unintentionally. He was insane.
During a recent episode of Sex Toy Tuesday (click here to read ***), I complained that I wish there was a dildo that had a more life-like ‘give’ to it. Hello U5 Cyberskin! And thank you www.pinkcherry.ca!! It felt like the absolute real deal. It was my husband who casually lay in between my legs, but it was a different man that was sliding in and out of me. After 14 years with the same man, a different one inside me felt surreal. Surreal and so, so good!
Despite having my first taste of bondage, and despite thoroughly adoring the feel of a big black man inside me, what happened to me last night had a profound impact on me. And it had nothing to do with the sex:
- Perched on the dresser was our daughter’s Fisher Price iPod player. On that player was an iPod playlist that Hubby had created called “Hubby’s sexy playlist” full of 42 of our favourite sexy songs.
- When I walked into the room, amidst the many many candles was a bottle of my favourite red wine. Not just any wine, my favourite.
- Chocolate covered strawberries are my favourite treat. He didn’t even buy them; he spent the morning making them.
- Checking into our suite, Hubby went downstairs and conversed with the staff to make sure he had the best room that the hotel had. They gave him the best, with the Tempurpedic bed and the large walk-in shower (both of which we well used).
- Ordering my flowers, he went down to the florist to request flowers he knew I would love… pink and unique.
- The meal that he ordered for dinner was my favourite… steak covered in béarnaise and seafood.
Everything about yesterday and last night took thoughtfulness – that was the sexiest part. I’m honoured to be Mrs. Pervert. I hope all of you do something sweet, sexy and thoughtful for your loved ones this week. The impact on them will be huge.
And, sadly…
Lady-Like Pervert 