“Well,” I said, “for something a little different, we could live out one of the fantasies I’ve made up about us – you know, for use getting it up when I’m…alone.” I was propped up on one elbow, watching Lindsay’s face for the initial subconscious reaction.
She snorted. “I don’t know, that might be kind of risky. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, one of my favorites, I call ‘Barbie Doll’.”
“I have to be blond and stupid?” she asked. “Plus, I’d need a boob job.”
“No – your boobs are fine. You just have to do exactly what I say and let me undress you, dress you back up in whatever I want, and then undress you again – like a doll. And I get to look at you, wack off, and probably fuck you.” I was pretty cavalier about my presentation of the concept, because I really did not think Lindsay would agree to it.
“Does this have to do with some suppressed feminine urges? Did your mommy refuse to buy you a dolly when you were little?”
“Ha, ha. No. It’s just one of a ton of fantasies I have about you – about us. I know things haven’t been the greatest between us lately, but these crazy thoughts are always running through my head. You’re hot. It’s hard to live with you without thinking of such things. It’s a compliment, though a bit rude,” I finished in a mock proper British accent.
“Well…” she hesitated for a moment. I waited for the apologetic declination. But the white wine must’ve tipped the scales in my favor just enough. “Okay, but you’d better demonstrate good fashion sense.”
Holy shit. My jaw may have dropped in amazement, and she grinned at having caused such a reaction. But my face quickly sprang back into a ridiculously enthusiastic grin.
Sitting up fully, I turned on the bedside lamp. “And now, for a very special episode of ‘What Not to Wear.'”
Just broaching the subject of mixing it up a little in our sex life had given me ridiculous butterflies in my stomach and I could feel my pulse quickening. I was nervous as a schoolboy asking a girl out for the first time. You’d think we hadn’t been married for 19 years. Now that she’d agreed to this game my cock rushed to a half-hard fattie immediately. We were into uncharted sexual territory.
She remained lying in bed while I arose. The quality of light was a little too harsh. My wife has always been self-conscious about me overtly checking her out, so I figured some mood lighting might put her more at ease. “Hold on,” I said and darted out of the bedroom. I went to the living room and fetched a couple of oil lamps from the living room. I set them on my dresser and lit them with a lighter I put in my top drawer long ago for just such a purpose. I turned off my nightstand light.
“That’s nice,” she said, “But if I’m going to be getting naked and changing clothes, what are you going to be wearing?”
Recognizing she might feel a little awkward being the only nude person in the room, I gleefully set the stage by stripping off my t-shirt and dropping my flannel pajama pants and boxers. I stood there nude and noticed her gaze flit down to my semi-erect cock sticking straight out into the cool bedroom air. Lindsay looked sooo pretty in the firelight. I flexed my cock a couple of times, making it bob in the air.
“Well!,” she commented. “I guess this is one of your favorite fantasies.” She sat up in bed and began pulling her bulky sweatshirt off.
“Whoa!” I halted her. “Stop! That’s my job. You’re just a Barbie, remember?”
She let the shirt drop back down. “Oh.” I could see her thinking, though very un-Barbie-like. “Well do I need blonde hair?”
“Not necessarily.”
“‘Cause there’s that wig…”
“What?”
“There’s that wig in the closet.”
“What wig?”
“That play wig that Susie used last Halloween.”
Susie was our 8 year old daughter. She’d been a princess with long blonde hair last year.
“Oh yeah?”
She grinned mischievously and clambered down the length of the bed. She knelt and rummaged around in the bottom of the closet, coming up with the cheap, blonde wig.
“Well…sure,” I said. “Works for me.”
She dropped it on the edge of the bed and stood up. She stepped toward me and started to reach to hug me saying “What happens now?”
I stopped her again, “Whoa. No touchy…yet.”
She stopped and made a “well-pardon-me” face. “Um…okay then.”
I gave my cock a gentle stroke, pulling the skin taut along its length. It felt like a satisfying yawn, but lower.
“What to wear…” I said. I slid past her so I was close to her dresser. She turned to face me. I stepped closer, holding the head of my cock between my thumb and forefinger, pulsing with anticipation. I leaned in close and slowly kissed her. She stood stock still, hands at her sides, and slowly, passionately, kissed me back. The only point of contact between us was our lips, and it was electric like a first kiss. We nibbled each other’s lips and our tongues danced with each other until I drew back.
People typically take their tops off first, I think. Groins seem to be considered one step lewder than boobs and thus the last and naughtiest thing to be revealed in stripteases and porn. I decided to break with tradition and squatted down in front of her. I pinched a bit of each of her long cotton pajama legs and very slowly pulled downward. The elastic waist glided down her hips and over her fantastic ass cheeks till the light of the oil lamps behind her shone between her legs. She had on pretty utilitarian blue cotton panties. The kind whose selling point is comfort, not seduction. The pajamas finished their trip down her long, warm legs.
“Step out,” I said, stimulating myself by squeezing my cock between my calves in my squatting position. “Yes, Ken,” she joked as she raised one foot and then the other. I tossed the pajamas aside and ran my hands up one of her legs, delighting in the sensation of her warm smooth skin and the contrasting prickle of very mild stubble. For some reason, I have always loved the feel of that little prickle of the day after a shave.
When my hands got to the top of her thigh, I extended my right thumb, resting on her inner thigh, to slide it under the edge of her panties at her crotch. “Mmmmm,” she said. I nudged my thumb in a little farther while caressing the outside of her leg with the other hand. Through her short, curly hair I rubbed the edge of her vulva with my thumb. It came away wet already and I knew things were heating up.
Next, I slid my hands up her outer legs and grasped the edge of her panties. Sliding them slowly down, I switched to kneeling while kissing her smooth abdomen as it was exposed by the descending underwear. I could smell her musky scent now – an aroma that made my balls tingle and made me want a deeper whiff.
“Step out,” I said again, and we repeated the procedure for removal of her panties. I tossed them aside and said “Stand farther apart.” She moved and stood with legs farther apart and her hands on her hips. I stared at the beautiful sight of her dusky pubic hair and shrouded pussy lips, backlit by the oil lamps, lightly glistening with her juices. I reached up and methodically stroked just the last digit of my index finger between her lips from back to front.
She moaned lightly, “Ooohhh.” I moved my finger back to center, stroking my cock with my other hand, and then gradually and deliberately pressed it straight upwards into her until my hand pressed against her vulva. “Ahhh,” she gasped. I pulled it out, and looking up into her heavy-lidded face gazing down at me, licked her juices from my finger.
“Now, about a proper outfit,” I said, rising and turning to her dresser. I pulled open her underwear drawer. A moment’s search near the back of the drawer turned up the white thong underwear I had bought her a year ago. Married with kids doesn’t tax the thong collection.
“I knew you were going to put me in those,” she said.
“Am I that predictable?” I replied. “No comments from the doll.”
I brought the thong over and knelt, spreading it the right way. “Step in,” I said. She complied.
I slid them up her legs and over her hips. I stood close to her and reached around, caressing her buttocks and tugging the thong strap in between her cheeks. I was so close my cock was rubbing against her thigh. Then I reached down and made sure the small fabric triangle was situated on her pussy just right, being sure to apply a little pressure to her clitoris in the process. She sighed in appreciation.
We shared another long kiss. “Now, we’ve got to do something about the uppers,” I said, stepping back. I loved the sensation of my boner dangling in the cool air of the room. Lindsay is not a very visual girl, but right now she was staring right at my cock and balls with great interest.
“Can you guess my next selection?” I challenged.
“I have a pretty good idea, you perv,” she said confidently.
I went to her drawer full of bras and in short order came up with the baby blue quarter-cup shelf bra that I had given her, again, about a year ago. I’d only seen her in it once for a quick try-on, her tits hoisted up and out, nipples presented proudly for inspection. Again, that was about a year ago, but the memory of it was clearly emblazoned on my mind. It was awe-inspiring, and very Barbie-like.
She grinned as I approached. “I knew I should have bigger tits for this.”
“Your tits are perfect,” I assured once more. “They’re just not in my face enough. But this’ll fix that. Raise thy arms, Barbie,” I commanded.
She lifted her arms and I pulled her sweatshirt and t-shirt up and over her head, baring her breasts with their delicious long pink nipples. I dropped her shirt on the floor and bent to place a gentle kiss and nibble on each nipple. I licked her areolas once to produce a cooling evaporative effect.
She lowered her arms. I stepped close to her, making sure my engorged cock brushed her warm thigh again for my own pleasure. I slid the bra strap up one arm. Reaching around her in a near-embrace, I brought the bra around her back and slid the strap up her other arm. More wet kissing ensued as I slid the bra up to the right level and hooked the front clasp between her breasts, enjoying her soft warm tits against the back of my hands. The quarter-cups rested under her beautiful breasts. I slid the straps up over her shoulders, lifting her boobs up proudly. It created the most stunning cleavage and her nipples stuck straight out at me. The sight of her smooth cleavage made me long to run my tongue or cock between her gorgeous orbs.
“Holy fucking crap,” I artfully complimented. But it was honest. The sight of her tits that way was like crack cocaine to my eyeballs. I could barely stop staring.
She laughed at me. “Men are so simple.”
“Yeah, I agreed. I don’t know why you women can’t accept and embrace that. Anytime you want me to do something, and feel happy to serve, just show me your titties. You laugh. But it’s actually true. I’m that easily manipulated.”
I stepped back, giving myself a couple of passing strokes, as I admired the gentle rise and fall of her breasts with her breathing. I slid the closet door open. All in a row were her spaghetti strap camisoles. They are all pretty low-cut and made of thin, stretchy synthetic material. Most of her work outfits are layered. Layer #2, after her bra, is usually one of the camis, often with a lacy fringe at the bottom that sticks out below Layer 3, being a sweater or shirt. But the part that always kills me is how the front of the cami stretches across her boobs, spanning the perfect valley of her cleavage. It creates a tantalizing view that I cannot resist. I’m always trying to get a look down her shirt. When she bends down to pick something up, I about have a heart attack. In many ways, it’s even sexier than bare breasts, weird as that may seem.
On top of that, her bras feature some push-up effect that enhances that hot cleavage. I had always wondered what just the cami, with an open-cup bra, and no Layer #3 would look like. I was pretty sure it would be a cleavage and nipple fest that would make me spontaneously cum in my pants. I was about to find out. Should I select a lace fringe or plain? Color, white, or black? Really, I wanted to have her systematically model all of them, but I was afraid to exceed her tolerance for this game of Barbie Doll.
I flipped through them and agonizingly settled on white, with a lacy bottom fringe. Why white? Well, the material was thin enough I thought her areolas would be visible through the thin cloth. I’m a sick bastard.
She raised her arms and I slid it down over her body. It dropped into place and clung to her curves. Her cleavage was prominent like an 18th century French courtesan, but as I predicted, the most delicious part was her erect nipples poking against the thin fabric. And also to my delight, I could make out the outline of the areola on each tit. It made me so hot and hungry to suck her breasts. I just gasped lowly.
“You like that, Ken?” she said seductively. “You like my titties?”
“Oh god, more than anything on earth,” I assured. “You’re a sex-bomb.”
“Now,” I said. “Something for the bottoms.” I searched through her closet and came up with a short skirt she hadn’t worn in a long time. It was of pretty thin fabric, pleated all around, and always hung from her in a way that emphasized the ripeness of her ass.
“Step in,” I ordered, holding the elastic waistband open and low. She gracefully did so. I slid it up to her waist.
“Footwear,” I said. I went to my own chest of drawers and pulled out a surprise. “I ordered these a long time ago,” I explained, “I’ve been saving them.” I uncoiled a pair of black thigh-high stockings with lace tops lined with silicone backing to stay up without garters. “You’d best do these,” I said.
“Oooo,” was her only comment as she took them from me, sat down on the bed, and slid them up her long delicious legs. I just stood there and engaged in some brief, intense beating off. I couldn’t resist. She adjusted them on her thighs and let go with a snap.
Next, I selected her ankle-high, black, high-heeled boots she’d bought for herself. “Now these.”
“Oh, my boots!” She grinned and pulled them on. Then she stood up and stood before me. Tall, warm and sexed up.
“Holy crap, you are hot,” I praised.
She faked a stupid giggle and said, “Thank you, Ken.” Then she reached down and picked up the blonde wig. She pulled her brown hair back and pulled on the wig, tucking her own tresses neatly up inside. Then she brushed back the loose strands, cocked one hip out and faced me. “Well?”
I was speechless. She was wicked, wicked hot. I gave my dick some more strokes. “You look finger-lickin’ good,” I said.
“You already did that.”
“Okay, hottie. Now walk down the hall and back for me.” She turned and did so, walking slowly and confidently. I kept my eyes glued to her calves and ass as she walked away. I slowly kept stroking myself by repeatedly pulling the skin on my cock back tight and squeezing my balls. She turned and started back. I was staring at her cleavage and the prominence of her nipples. She was staring at the self-action I was applying to myself. “Stop for a second,” I said when she was about five feet away. “Turn around.” She did. “I think you might have dropped something. You’d better bend over and get it,” I ad-libbed.
“Oh,” she said in a mock airhead voice. “It seems I did. I seem to have dropped my dildo,” she laughed. I laughed, too. She bent over and pantomimed picking something up. Her skirt rose until the lace tops on her stockings were exposed, as well as half of her ass and the white crotch-strap of her thong.
I began masturbating furiously. “Ohhh…” escaped my lips as she watched me upside-down between her legs.
I slackened my pace, but then her hand came between her legs and up. “It seems my panties need adjusting, too,” she cooed. She ran her middle finger along the thong strap and then, pushing it aside, slipped it into her wet pussy. I had to start stroking again when I saw that. I pinched the base of my dick and flexed my Kegel muscle, causing the head of it to bulge into a huge purple knob. I walked over to her and placed the head against her finger and vulva. Lindsay slipped her finger out and placed her hands on her knees, staying bent over. I slowly pushed against her, feeling her lips squeezing my head, but slowly widening to accommodate me. Suddenly, the resistance passed and I eased in, feeling her tight warmth moving down, swallowing the length of my member. “Ohhh,” escaped me again and she joined the chorus with a sigh of satisfaction. I cherished the warm softness of her ass against my abdomen when my whole tool was inside her. I slid my hands up under her skirt and clutched her hips, pulling her tightly against me.
I then fucked her for a good twenty to thirty strokes, until I could feel myself nearing a climax. She was moaning gently and rhythmically. I slowed and stopped. I slid out of her and just stared at her pink, open, engorged hole while giving myself a few strokes with her slick juices on my shaft. I slid her thong strap back over her pussy and said, “Now sit on the corner of the bed.” The air was cool on my wet dick.
My blond vixen sat down with her legs spread wide. I stepped up in between her knees, my cock right at face level. “Suck me.” She grasped my balls and pulled gently towards her, licking her own salty juices from my shaft and rubbing my head against her cheeks. She took me in her mouth and sucked hard, creating a tugging sensation all the way down into my balls. My dick was hard as a rock with overstimulation.
“Take the shirt off,” I gasped. Now I wanted to stare at those hoisted titties. She pulled it off in a flash and resumed her slobbering attack on my dick. She slid her hand down between her legs and replaced two of her fingers in her snatch, rubbing her clit. I just stood there and enjoyed the show – her tits in the beautiful blue bra – her pink nipples – her fingers in her cunt – my boner sliding in and out of her mouth while she stroked me – the stunning effect of seeing her blonde.
Coming close to blowing my wad, I managed to say, “Hold on.” I stumbled back and dropped to the carpet, laying down and squeezing my balls. “Skirt off,” I said. She complied enthusiastically, slipping it off her hips. It fell to the floor. “Ride me,” I said as I pointed my shaft straight up in the air.
She stepped over me and I suffered a second’s apprehension as she lifted her sharp boot heel over my abdomen. This blonde vixen stood over me in her black thigh-highs, reached behind herself and tugged the thong strap aside. With her nipples jutting towards my face, she lowered herself into a squat with her cunt lips just touching my cock head. “Ready, Kenny?” she asked. My vision was aswim with tits and blonde hair – a very Barbie like experience. “Y-yeah,” I stuttered. “Fuck me.”
My cock had cooled slightly and I felt her heat anew as she lowered herself firmly, plunging my dick into her twat. She started bouncing rhythmically with her hands on my chest. Her breasts were squeezed together between her arms and the bra. I craned my neck forward to lick and suck her nipples. My face was wet with my own saliva from her bouncing breasts. Her pussy and ass were making sucking and slapping sounds from the wet, concussive passion she was visiting on me. My hands gripped the ankles of her black leather boots.
Lindsay’s nails were digging into my shoulders as waves of burning, itching ecstasy were growing in my cock and balls. The blonde hair was cascading down around us, some sticking to the sweat on her brow and a strand caught in the corner of her gasping mouth. Her eyes were closed and she focused all her conscience on the sensation of slick fullness in her pussy – the suction of the in and out motion tugging at her insides. When she bottomed out, she rubbed hard against me, pushing her clit against my pubic bone.
Then I could feel her cunt gripping my shaft hard in clenching contractions that told me she was cumming. I moved my hands to her tits and held them with her nipples between my fingers. “Oh god!” she gasped. “Oh. Fuck yeah! Uh-huh. Fuck yeah!”
I thrust back at her, enhancing the crotch-thunder we already had going. Ecstatic burning rose up my shaft and blasted forth into her in loads of hot cream. My cum shot forth so hard it nearly hurt. “Oh yeah, fill me,” she urged when she felt me squirting within her. Already, my balls and crotch were wet with her juices, but now the sucking sounds of our combined fluids were outrageous, loud and sexy. I passed beyond sensation, but she kept fucking me a little longer. Then she stood up. A drop of our juices fell onto my chest. At this point, the messier the better. Good thing that’s what I wanted, because she wasn’t done. She slid her thong off, moved up a step, and squatted again above my mouth, presenting her sopping cream pie to me.
She lowered herself and I began tonguing her wildly. I sucked up our combined juices. I’ve always found the combined taste of us better than our separate juices, though I enjoy the taste of her cunt all alone too. Her pussy lips and walls were incredibly engorged, hot, and slick. I licked her clit and she was pinching and rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. Gripping her ass cheeks palm upward, I pressed my thumbs into her snatch while licking her clit and labia. She clearly needed something bigger than my thumbs.
I pointed this out and she agreed. “Lay on the bed,” I said. “Head at the corner, ass in the middle.”
She stood and removed her boots, leaving her stockings on. I went to our lockbox of tricks and grabbed a blue dildo. She was climbing onto the bed. “The bigger one,” she said. I looked at the 7-incher in my hand.
“I thought you said that one was too big.”
“Not tonight,” she breathed, laying down and adjusting her position.
“Alrighty. You can lose the wig if you want.”
“Good,” she said. “It’s fun, but hot.”
I put the 7-inch dildo back and grabbed the colossal, thick 11-inch vibrator we still had, though she usually didn’t favor it. More frequently, I used it for masturbation, holding it’s vibrating length against my own shaft till reaching ecstasy. It took large batteries and was a real rumbler on its high setting. I licked its head to lube it up with saliva and walked over to stand over her face, straddling the corner of the bed. “Ah,” she said, “I see.”
While standing with my semi-hard cock, oozing post-cum, dangling over her hungry mouth, I bent at the waist and rested my face on one of her stockinged thighs. I pressed the jumbo vibe against her slick slit. She started alternately sucking my cock and licking my scrotum in the most wonderful, tickly way. I could feel life already coming back to my shaft.
I slowly pushed the vibrator into her. Its realistic head parted her swollen lips. I love to watch the process of penetration. That the female body can accept the insertion of big cocks and dildos is of never-ending fascination to me. The closer and higher the resolution of porn depicting it, the better. Her vulva stretched around the huge shaft as the simulated vein texture glided between them.
“Mmmmm,” she hummed with my cock in her mouth. The vibrations tingled up my shaft to my anus. I was definitely getting hard again.
I turned the vibrator on low and it quietly buzzed. She gasped at the added stimulation. I had about nine inches of silicone cock into her gorgeous, dripping pussy. The shaft was slick with her love-juice. I turned it up higher and began sliding it in and out, occasionally leaving it buried in her cunt while I rubbed her clit a little bit. She was sucking on my balls and stroking my saliva-slick cock because I’d become too hard for her to bend my cock downwards far enough to be in her mouth.
Lindsay was making whimpering, begging sounds and urging, “Oh yeah. A little deeper…a little deeper…good, right there…oh yeah…faster…faster…keep it coming…oh yeah you nasty fucker, fuck me, fuck me, yeah…” and other pornographic ramblings. I felt the hot breath from her mouth and nose on my balls and up my ass-crack. I cherished the beauty of her pussy working the massive dildo. I expected she could probably make a fake dick cum.
At this point, I had to have some more for myself. I whipped the dildo out of her and climbed on the bed, turning around and practically jumping between her legs. I just plunged my cock straight into her in one smooth motion. I was so wet with saliva and she was so wet with grool that there was no resistance.
I lay the wet dildo across her open mouth and she bit it, and sucked her juices from it. I went to banging away furiously at her. Her breasts were still thrilling me in the tight bra as I looked down at her in the firelight. Our wet pelvises were clapping away. The vibrator fell out of her mouth as she opened it in a big O. She grabbed her own ankles and pulled her legs up and apart as far as possible. The lace stocking tops only fired my horny brain more. I was so deep in her. Gliding in and out in super-lubed ecstasy. My cock was in a numb state, feeling the ring of her snatch sliding around it, reversing, and sliding off. I knew my abdominal muscles were going to be sore tomorrow.
Lindsay was positively out of her right mind, cumming over and over, running her hands through her own brown hair, moaning, whimpering, squeezing her own tits, and gasping “fuck me” and “don’t stop” and “oh yeahhhhh.” Finally, I felt the old familiar feeling growing in my loins again – building slower this time. I always last longer the second go around – on the rare occasions we achieve that.
I kept pistoning away as the fire arose in me. Lindsay was now quiet and sort of zoned out. Her eyelids were closed and she had her arms up over her head. The furious pounding sent rippling shockwaves through her jiggling boobs. A light sheen of sweat covered us both.
“I’m am gonna cum big-time,” I grunted. She smiled and moaned, “Fill me up.”
I did.
My semen blasted into her and I just kept pounding away, whipping it into a foamy cream running down her ass crack and creaming my balls. Finally, I plowed into her one final thrust as deep as I could go and collapsed atop her, our sweaty, hot bodies slipping against each other.
We both lay there, heaving deep breaths. “Wow, Barbie,” I whispered in her ear. “That was keen.”
“Fuck yeah,” she replied. “Was that as good as your fantasy?”
“Much better than I ever dreamed,” I confessed. In fact, the reality has supplanted the fantasy and I usually just replay portions of this encounter when abusing myself before a shower in the morning.
We’ve had many more sessions of “Barbie” since, and expanded to games we call “Ken Doll” and “G.I. Joe.” And our collection of costumes has grown enough that we’ve had to buy a locking suitcase to avoid discovery by our daughter.