Overcoming my fear [mf]

My husband Paul and I decided to have a baby when I was 27, but before we did I had to overcome an embarrassing problem: I was deathly afraid of unprotected sex. My mom had an affair when I was a teenager and ended up getting an STI from the guy she was sleeping with and then gave it to my dad as well. It got worse before it got better, and I guess the trauma of that made me way more scared than was rational. Not scared enough to never have sex, but I never *ever* did it without having the guy I was with wear a condom or use one of the female condoms myself (which by the way, I’m told are *much* better for the guy, and I like them too).

I was so afraid of it that even after I married Paul I still insisted on condoms. We tried a couple of times to skip them right after we got married, because it was “what you’re supposed to do,” but I couldn’t get past that stupid mental barrier. I’d gotten on birth control, and Paul had STI tests done just to try to help me feel better, but the thought of being fucked bare made me cringe.

Paul was sweet about it. He’d *always* been sweet and understanding about it, and I appreciated him all the more for that – it’s a really unusual fear, and one that I’m sure was really upsetting for him even though he tried not to let it show. But… sometimes it upset me that he never got angry with me, because I was angry with myself over it. And of course I realized that wasn’t fair so I just beat myself up all the more.

Obviously before we could *make* a kid, I’d have to get over it. We went through dozens of boxes of condoms in all shapes, sizes, and even flavors before we decided to have a baby and I had to face my fear head on. Last September I noticed myself tracing my finger along the “baby bump” of some celebrity whose pregnancy made the tabloids. I kept imagining what it would feel like to be pregnant. To my surprise the thought made me horny.

Paul was excited about having a kid, too. And about making a baby. Little did I know all that restrained, safe sex with condoms was giving him quite the fetish for bare sex and impregnation. One morning post-shower, pre-work, while I was still dithering on whether I could actually go through with it, I ran across an incognito tab on our shared laptop. He’d accidentally left a not-safe-for-work page open. It turned out to be about a “breeding” fetish. I hadn’t even realized that was a *thing*. Until then, I had it in my head that baby-making was the “work” part of sex. I had assumed it was that way for everyone. My porn had always been of the black and white, well-posed, “artistic” and “sensual” variety.

I clicked on a link that I could see he’d viewed. I watched a surprisingly hot cock buck and twitch as it emptied itself into a woman on her knees. She reached back between her legs and stroked the underside of his balls with a gentle touch of her fingertips to encourage the flow to last longer. It wasn’t my porn. It was disembodied. There were no condoms. It was slightly grainy. It was messy when he pulled out of her. The short clip centered around his orgasm alone was mechanical, yet the fact that I knew Paul watched this clip to get off made me hot. Slightly jealous, but hot. A few more clicks left me enthralled. I slipped my panties off. Then I opened the browser history on that tab and started exploring. Clips, images, short stories… I started with what he’d surfed but I quickly branched out. I ended up grabbing a vibrator I could use without hands and let it go to work as I clicked through pictures and clips of men cumming in women. I even went through a few of men cumming in men. By the time I finished I had to grab a second shower.

That day I downloaded one of those pregnancy calculators and decided to talk to Paul about it when he came home. He aimed straight toward the laptop when he walked in the door, saying “Hey, sweetie! I totally forgot to send something to my boss on the way out of work.”

I chuckled, “I found the open tab, doofus,” He stopped there mortified, but after I described what I did with my browsing session and which pictures got me off the most, he made me strip him out of his work clothes and take him right there, with his tailored wool suit crumpled under my knees. I insisted on a condom of course, disappointing myself. We resolved to try for real at the peak of my cycle. My lust goes into overdrive when I ovulate anyway, so I thought I could use that and the porn that now burned in the back of my mind to just “power through it.”

I was wrong. The night the app told us to, Paul and I got in bed and started making out. But I knew what was coming and I let it terrify me. The thought of letting him inside me without any protection at all made me more and more nervous with every kiss. At some point we went past “ready” to “not happening,” and I broke down crying on him and said I couldn’t do it. I was dry as dust downstairs, nervous, and sick to my stomach from it. He didn’t say anything, but held me close until I fell asleep on his chest sobbing. I felt so stupid. And loved and cared for. But stupid.

I woke up the next morning. Paul got ready and headed out the door without saying much of anything. He acted preoccupied, and I was afraid he was (justifiably) mad. I hopped in the shower and punched the wall. I still had a day or two where I could get pregnant, but I thought maybe I’d go see my therapist and talk to her about it, then we’d try again next month. Paul had other plans. When we both got home from work we didn’t talk about the previous night. He’d been a pretty silent overall, and I thought he was moody and I couldn’t blame him at all for that. But it turned out he was just plotting.

I wish I hadn’t been so upset, so I could remember more about the start of that evening. He must’ve shown signs of being excited and sneaky, but all I really remember is turning off Netflix and going upstairs to go to bed. I don’t even remember what we were watching. I’d gotten my shirt and pants off and just reached back to unhook my bra when his fingers wrapped around my wrists. I felt stubble, teeth, and tongue on the back of my neck. I melted into his embrace, and he must’ve heard me sigh in pleasure, because he leaned forward and whispered into my ear while still holding onto my arms, “Lean over the edge of the bed,”

“But, I…”

“This is me, Angie. I love you with all my heart. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do. Whatever happens is going to be okay, but you *are* going to bend over the edge of the bed *now*,” He pushed and I followed. He bent me over the bed with my hands behind my back. When my face hit the mattress, I tilted my head to the side and saw the rope lying there ready. My stomach sank in fear, but a part of me tingled at the possibilities. “Paul? Please… uh,” I didn’t really think he *would* force himself on me, but the animal part of my brain was confused and a bit panicked.

“We’ve used rope before. This,” He put a loop around my wrist, ”is just to make sure your hands don’t get in our way.” I was afraid, but I let him tie me. Then things happened fast. The restraints we had anchored to the bed years ago clamped around my ankles. He pulled them so that my legs spread apart as I lay there prone on the bed.

Then he looked at my ass, “Shit.”

“What?”

I felt his finger trace just under the hem of my panties. “I forgot to remove these. One sec,” He fetched a pair of scissors out of the nightstand drawer. If he hadn’t still been dressed, I would have been really scared and upset. But he let me see that he was still clothed, and so I let him continue. I say “let” even though by then I really didn’t have anything but the belief that he’d stop if I said “No.” I bit back the urge to say it. Cold steel slid under the fabric against the bare skin of my ass, then my pussy. Snip.

Paul said nothing after that for awhile. He concentrated on his work while my imagination went nuts coming up with every way this could go. He pulled the Hitachi out of my nightstand. Then he stepped in front of me and flipped it on and off once, wearing an evil grin, then he put it between my legs and turned it on. I sighed some relief at the familiar thrum, but Paul switched it off after only a few seconds and set it down in front of me. He made a show of pulling off his shirt. Paul works out every day and it shows. I love his hairy chest. Despite everyone these days being shaved or waxed or just plain bare, he’s never been self conscious of his chest hair. I think it looks manly, and I love tugging at it when I ride him. He undid his belt and stepped out of his pants. He grabbed his already hard cock and pumped it a couple of times while staring at my body laid out for him.

Then he pulled the bottle of lube out of the nightstand. My skin went clammy. Fuck, what was he thinking?! “Paul!” I shouted at him, but he came and ran the fingers of one hand through my hair, then flipped up the lid and put a tiny amount on the fingers of his other hand. “Paul, please… What -” I felt his lubed finger slide between my lips and trace my clit and the entrance to my vagina. It tingled in a good way, but I stared at his cock, my mouth dry from nerves.

“Don’t worry, you’re not getting my cock inside of you until you are literally begging me for it. But since apparently you need me to *prove* that to you, I’m going to do this…,” He walked out. I managed to calm myself down bit. When Paul came back in he was holding a roll of duct tape. He pulled out a length and cut it off. “The lube is there so this doesn’t stick to the wrong bits of you.”

I knew what he was going to do a second or two before he did it. Part of me winced at the idea of what it would feel like when he pulled it off. The other part of me thought, “*Fuck* yes, I *need* to be punished for all this.” I spread my legs even further to encourage him, then he taped my labia shut over my vagina.

The Hitachi buzzed back to life. Now that I felt safe and a bit chastened, it sizzled against my cunt. The tape spread the vibrations over my whole groin and the inside of my thighs. It crept up my spine, tickling like the beginning of a chill. “Paul, oh… Ah!” Waves of feeling started washing away all the fear and nervousness and I found myself trying to spread my legs even more for him, “Paul, this feels *good*,” I said to encourage him.

I bit my lip trying to let the pleasure build past the point of no return, but right as I started to come, he pulled it away and spanked me *hard* on the ass. “Fuck!” That was the last straw. I don’t think I said another coherent word for the next hour. I started speaking in tongues, grunting, yelling my encouragement in any way I could manage. He kept alternating the vibrator on my taped pussy and his hand hitting my ass to shock me back from the brink. He said nothing the whole time, but occasionally after the spanking he would stroke my back or cheek or run his fingers through my hair with affection. Eventually it got so that every slap of his hand on my ass was like its own little orgasm, and I began to feel my wetness filling up the space behind the duct tape. My nipples were going to leave dents in the mattress, they were so hard.

And then I felt it. I *needed* his cock inside me. The animal that strained against my inhibitions for years broke through all the nerves and repression and fear. That release alone was like the most intense orgasm of my life to date. Suddenly all the vibrations in the world wouldn’t do.

My eyes started to fill with tears. I was free. I thought of the pain I would feel when he pulled the duct tape off my vagina. I welcomed it. I thought of the condoms of all shapes and sizes in the drawer. I wanted to throw them all in the fireplace and burn them. On the knife’s edge between the Hitachi going silent and the feel of that next slap, I yelled out, “Paul! FUCK ME.”

I looked back at him. He looked hungry. He barely looked human, or maybe that was me, reflected in his eyes. I watched him calmly set the Hitachi down beside me. I watched the smile grow on his face. I watched him pump his penis experimentally with his hand a couple of times. I imagined I could see precum glistening at the tip of it. He bit his lip. Then he reached between my legs and paused looking me in the eye one last time for permission. “Paul, *please*” I screamed in ecstatic agony as he tore the tape free and entered me in one perfect motion. I came as his cock skewered me and shook the bed with my orgasm.

Then he began pounding me deep, the bed scooting a little each time he hit bottom. I pushed back against him hard, determined to fuck the cum out of him and into me. I knew then what I’d been missing all along. He pounded me, chanting my name under his breath every time his bare cock filled me. I fucked him and he fucked me until I drained him. He drew my name out into one long groan and pushed himself until his balls settled against my clit. He held that thrust, fingers gripping my thighs as if he could bury himself even further. I felt his cock leap inside me and knew he was gushing his come into me. He held there, each pulse a little less than the first until there was nothing but his heavy breathing. As he softened and slid out of me I felt a rush and said “Paul, fucking cut me loose, *now*,”

He undid the cuffs around my ankles and cut the rope and it fell away. He looked nervous underneath all the sweat, and said, “Are you okay?” But I threw him down on the bed on his back and began sucking his cock to get him hard again. He was tired, but I was having none of that now that I knew how much I needed his come and the feel of his bare flesh inside of me. When he hardened and began to match my motion with his hips, I straddled him and forced his cock all the way into me for the most intense ride of my life.

When he came again, I squeezed against his cock with my vagina as hard as I knew how, milking him, counting the little jumps his cock made when he came, trying to hold him inside as long as I could. I slid off as he finally softened. Then, one hand clasped with his, I slid my other hand between my legs and masturbated with Paul’s sweat and come all over my fingers until I came twice more, saying “Thank you, thank you thank you, *thank you*” over and over.

A few weeks later my pregnancy test came up positive. It could have been that time. It could have been any of a dozen times after that. I have never used a condom again.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/9u35v2/overcoming_my_fear_mf