I started this story just after my brush with the law, when I KO’d Angie’s violent and abusive ex-husband.
I’m not a violent man, but have always been able to look after myself as, when I was thirteen and we lived in Bedford, my dad had me take boxing lessons. However, with this guy I was a tad lucky. I hit him, got hit back and then just lost it. I attacked him so concertedly that he fell over and knocked himself out on a piece of furniture. Police were called and I was arrested. I was about to kick him in the head when friends pulled me off him.
I don’t know quite what blackmail Angie applied to this evil bastard, except for what she admits to in this post, but he dropped the charges.
The other day I had to visit the local cop shop and was formally cautioned. Oh dear. Never been in trouble with the police in my life.
It was not easy typing with a broken finger so I got part way through this story and then put it on hold. I’d then forgotten about it until Angie gave me a nudge, so here we go.
[This is the usual note that all of our stories are true unless prefixed ‘Fiction’. Angie and I were teenage lovers who were separated by her parents who then contrived to make each of us think the other had wanted a clean break. Their very effective tactics resulted in us being separated for forty-five years! By chance and the help of facebook and 192.com, we managed to find each other again in 2010 and married in 2012 (a 48 year engagement). We had both had multiple partners during our interregnum and decided to write about it all incognito and it is those stories and more modern ones which you find in our blog. To fully understand us you need to read the back story and if you like our writing why not start at the beginning on this link to stories in life-time order.]
So, this is a recent and really odd story. It is partly a review of a piece of equipment but used in an innovative manner.
We’ve often read about people using electric toothbrushes to masturbate, but neither of us have ever tried it. Angie owns a number of vibrators which get the occasional outing, or maybe I should say inning, and that is only because I am no longer man enough to satisfy her sexual needs as much as she might like. The problem is simply age and drugs I have to take to keep me alive.
My age didn’t really effect me until ten years ago when I reached 58. Up until then I was extremely virile and had no problem with two or three orgasms a day and even a couple in a session was not rare.
The change for me came when making love in the shower with my last partner before I found Angie again. I had her pinned against the wall, with her legs around me and just as my ejaculation began I felt as weak as a rabbit and collapsed. I’d had a minor heart attack, was rushed into hospital and it took almost a week in intensive care for me to stabilise. It was a combination of the heart attack and extremely erratic atrial fibrillation. Details.
It took a couple of months for me to feel close to normal and then I had a stroke which affected my leg. I was given a new drug called alteplase and made a complete recovery, but I was now left on a huge cocktail of drugs – amlodipine, bisoprolol, indapamide, furosemide, perindopril and warfarin. They seemed to perform their function, my heartbeat stabilised, my blood pressure returned to high normal and my blood was sufficiently adjusted to prevent clots reaching my brain again.
[Angie has got me to lose weight and I am no longer on one of the drugs and on half the usual minimum dose of another. The loss of weight has real energy, vitality and sexual benefits, too.]
After the stroke, during lovemaking I began to have failures. All men get the odd unexpected failure, but these were increasing in regularity and spoiling the anticipation of lovemaking. The strange thing is that I didn’t have problems getting an erection, but while in the heat of the fuck it would suddenly die. There was no rhyme nor reason for it. As every man reading this knows, you get to the point during sex when you reach a plateau of sheer wonder. So exciting, absolutely stunning sensations. The build to orgasm is just growing, your self-control is going to collapse at any moment and the incredible climb to the peak of sensation has just begun. That is when the erection dies. It is not just frustrating, it is a total disaster, destroying your self-esteem. It is a crushing blow. Absolutely deflating in more than one sense. Charlotte, my last pre-Angie partner, was very good and usually managed to fellate me back to an erection, but I have had it die a second time and the anxiety, while it doesn’t ruin the experience – how could it – it causes a perception that you must hurry to complete, so a much less satisfying experience for both partners. Love making is, of course, all about the whole experience, however enjoyable the ending. ‘Quick while my erection lasts,’ is not the right mental attitude.
My lovely lady doctor said ‘no problem’, gave me a free sample pack of four Viagra and they’ve been prescribed for me ever since.
Anyway, I mention all of the above to explain why having more than one orgasm in a session these days is virtually impossible for me. Wish I was a girl! I’d love to experience what Angie does. She’s so orgasmic, more than any girl I’ve ever made love with and we’re talking more than a hundred during that interregnum.
So on with the main part of the story.
Because I can’t perform quite as regularly as either of us would like, Angela does tend to masturbate quite a lot. In fact she has always enjoyed it and it is, more or less, a daily event for her, most often in the shower, but if I’m away or out she will use the bed and that is when her vibrators get their workout or work-in.
As for me, being a poor bloody man, my refractory period means I can’t afford to masturbate at all. If I wasted a single ejaculation on self-pleasure I would consider it a gross waste of resources. Angie and I still make love at least twice a week and often three or four times. Viagra means we can even make love twice a day as the effects of the tablet, while not full on, still demonstrate vestiges of their power up to half a day later. When we first started writing this blog in December 2013 we made love every single day to coincide with daily stories. It was fantastic, but the stories dried up before my seminal fluid! We kept the daily fucking up for two months more or less, though. Quite proud of that.
Anyway, if I were to masturbate then it would cost us one of our lovemaking opportunities and I far prefer to come within her than into my hand or onto my abdomen. It is common sense really. She loves me, is higher sexed than me so I’d be daft to waste a single orgasm in my own company.
There are, of course, levels of masturbation. It is not vital to ejaculate to enjoy the pleasure your own penis can provide. Angie regularly goes out for a run sometime early morning – 6am, 7am, 8am – it varies, and that leaves me alone in bed. I’d like to masturbate, but know I’d be losing an opportunity for a better orgasm with her, nevertheless, there is definitely a desire to hold my penis. Every man knows this and, of course, an erection is fairly inevitable. It is what you do with that erection which is critical.
I find that firm squeezes and gentle strokes start those wonderful sensations which fill my penis with the heat of desire. The key is to hold those sensations at a level which does not require the final push to come. Squeezes, strokes, holding down my foreskin and stroking and caressing the glans in circular or up and down motions. Simply amazing. Usually I’ll stop and become extremely flaccid then start all over again because the build to those good feelings is almost as good as the plateau itself.
After maybe twenty to forty minutes of that I’ll have fought off the desire to come several times and then just release it and lie still, allowing the erection to gradually die. Although I’ve not climaxed, I’ve still had a lot of enjoyment and, when Angie returns I’ll sometimes shower with her and lovemaking will follow. I described the excitement of washing my Angie in this post. What a thrill that is!
Again I’ve got-off the main thrust of the story, puns intended.
I was talking about toothbrushes. As I said, Angie has some vibrators, but neither of us had tried a toothbrush.
Angie and I rarely watch porn, but we do occasionally. She tends to like gentle feminine porn such as IFeelMyself.com. I have always been fascinated by the female orgasm and occasionally find good examples. Neither of us watch what we call ‘fucking porn’ which is all about one or more boys fucking one or more girls in any manner of unrealistic scenarios. Anyway, the other week I found a very short clip of video on Tumblr, but without the name of the originator. I’ve copied it onto our site and it can be seen on this link. For those of you who do not like intimate videos and would rather not see it, I can tell you that it shows a close up of an anonymous late-teens’ or early-twenties’ girl coming to orgasm using an electric toothbrush on her clitoris. I don’t know for how long it had been applied when the clip begins as it only shows the orgasm, which does appear to be genuine. I showed it to Angie and that afternoon we decided to take our Braun electric toothbrush for a spin. Naturally we put a new head on it, the double head which we both find a little large. Perhaps it would be better for the new use for which we planned to apply it?
So, after Spurs, during an early kick-off won against Crystal Palace on Sunday 20th September, we turned off the telly, unplugged the landline, turned off the phones, locked the doors, I took a tablet and we disappeared to the bedroom for some fun.
We had our usual enjoyment stripping each other which is great fun. We each stand before the other and take one garment at a time from the other. Angie always starts with my socks as she has always hated men with bare legs and socks, whereas I am totally the opposite … I just ADORE her stark naked except for girly ankle socks when we make love. Obviously a fetish. Her top next and, if there’s no bra she gets a kiss on each nipple. My shirt and her hands rub my flanks and she presses her cheek against my chest. Skirt or jeans or shorts in the summer hit the floor and I stand back and admire her. My trousers or shorts are slid down and I step out of them. Any burgeoning erection gets a wee stroke as part of the manoeuvre. Leaving her socks on and assuming there’s no tights as there weren’t on this particular day I divest her of her briefs or panties or French knickers, whichever happens to be the flavour of the day. On this particular day it was a pair of tight low-cut shorts-type panties – my favourites. Sometimes she resists and I have to tussle to get them down. I stroke her pubic hair (she trims it so that her vulva is clear). By now I will certainly be raring to go. I stand still while she removes my briefs, y-fronts or boxers. Blue boxers usually on Sundays as Sunday afternoon is one of our favourite lovemaking occasions and she likes blue boxers. Sundays are quiet, no chance callers and perfect for leisurely fucking.
While she gets me to step out of them I am anticipating what I know, what is absolutely guaranteed to come next. Her hand cups my balls and those lips I’ve revered all my life caress my erection. Oh, the delight of the gentle, delicate touch, their opening and the grasping of my entire glans. One of the most extraordinary experiences in a lifetime.
How much time she spends pleasuring me varies. Sometimes it is a minute, sometimes it has continued so long I’ve had to collapse on the bed with her still attached to me, fellating me, thrilling me until I have to stop her. Again the refractory period is my enemy so I might be bursting to come, but know I have to stop her if I’m going to do her justice during our lovemaking. On this particular day it was a few minutes then she stood, I pulled her over to the bed, sat her on the edge and went down on her, those soft, warm, smooth thighs over my shoulders as I plied my expertise on her vulva. She loves it as much as I love fellatio and it didn’t take long before her fingers grabbed my head, started moving me faster against her softest and most tasty parts, then pow! I felt her climax. I swear the whole of her vulva undulates with her contractions and I keep my tongue pressed hard against her tiny, rigid clitoris, sensing it throbbing in time with her vagina and anus. If she’s having difficulty coming I finger her towards the end, but not needed at all this time.
I extracted myself from her scissors headlock, stood and lifted her onto the bed while she was still in bliss from her orgasm. I immediately climbed aboard and penetrated her vagina which set her off a second time. This second instantaneous climax is almost guaranteed if I time it right. Then I simply lie still within her for my pleasure, while allowing her to come back down off her high. It takes some willpower to roll off her at this point, but we’d had a plan to play with our Braun electric toothbrush and I knew I had to break the connection.
She squeezed my hand as we lay side by side, enjoying what she calls her afterglow and keeping that connection with me through her fingers on my hand, my thigh, and then my erection. Holding me, not masturbating me, simply holding me tight with barely perceptible squeezes. Delightful and exactly how I masturbate myself without coming in the mornings.
I reach over and compress her clitoris and mons and give her the same comfort squeezes she’s providing for me. Sunday afternoon’s are so wonderful, especially if Spurs have also won their game.
Eventually she released me, reached over and picked up the toothbrush. I heard the buzz, felt it on the underside of my mid shaft and the sensations hit me like a tornado. So strong, so deep, seemingly stimulating the whole length of me, better than any of Angie’s vibrators and even better than the back-massager. Mind you, there is a sharpness and roughness from the bristles. I couldn’t say it is a pleasant vibration from that point of view, but it is what it is doing to your sexual organ which is phenomenal.
I told her how good it was and, in short measure, I could feel those wonderful sensations which lead to the plateau. She brought the toothbrush upwards, pushed back my foreskin with her fingers and it was suddenly on my glans and fraenulum. Oh my God, what an amazing rush – unbelievable.
I remember crying, “Stop, stop!” she laughed, not realising how serious I was and I shot all over my chest, some reaching my shoulder. It couldn’t have been on my glans more than four or five seconds. As near instantaneous as you can imagine.
“Whoops,” she said and held the toothbrush hard against me forcing more and more of my spasms until I had to grasp her hand to stop the stimulation.
I lay there panting and swallowing, trying to recover from the most amazing and unexpectedly ferocious wank of my life.
My darling Angie caressed my chest and arm while I recovered then she grabbed the Kleenex and began to clean me up. Even that is delightful when carried out by the one you love.
“Was that good?” she laughed as she looked down at my face and kissed me tenderly.
“Wow!” was all I could say, then, “Sorry. That’s buggered us for a while.”
“You took a tablet?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” if I hadn’t I could have recovered and taken it later for us to make love.
I turned onto my side and caressed her vulva.
“Would you like another one?” I asked. We were always honest with each other.
“Please,” she smiled.
I changed sides so that she was on my left and it gave me better access to her. I began kissing and caressing her from her forehead to her toes. I so loved her entire body. It has always thrilled me. So lovely. I began to rhythmically caress her vulva, penetrated her with one, then two, then three fingers, lifting rapidly against that tiny area of roughness inside, watching my darling’s face begin to develop its rosy cheeks and hot forehead, the two best signs of her arousal. Faster I made the lifting motions as her body reacted and moved against my hand. I closed my grip so that my palm was hitting her clit, moved faster and faster until she cried out and my palm was wet. She’d squirted. Her chest was heaving as I dived between her legs to savour the rare, sweet muskiness she produced sometimes, but never to order.
I heard her say, “That was lovely Peter. Put your fingers back inside,” which I immediately did, kissing her clitoris and coming back up to enjoy the pleasure I could see on her face.
I kept the motions going, but slowly, more like a massage than masturbation, then I withdrew my hand to her sigh, “Ooh.”
I reached over, took the toothbrush, which still had semen on the bristles, turned it on and very gently pressed it against her prepuce. Knowing how rough the stimulation was, I didn’t know if I dare put it onto her bare clit.
“Oh, God. That’s good,” she said.
I pressed a little harder.
A few seconds passed, “No, too much,” she cried.
I took it away, but she grabbed my hand and pressed the bristles against her hood again.
“Not too much, then?” I asked cheekily.
“Hold it there. Hold it there. Don’t move it. Oh yes, oh. Oh yes, oh yes. Agh!” and she came again, knocking my hand away. I turned off the brush and cupped her mons and vulva with my hand, tenderly squeezing as her orgasm slowly faded.
All the time I was studying her face, leaning down to brush her lips then watching the heat over her entire face. Sweat on her brow, the tops of her cheeks the colour of pale strawberries and her lower cheeks trying to climb to the same rosiness. Her lips parted, the breath coming in pants. I licked her lips and saw a smile of satisfaction appear. Her breathing eased and my lips closed upon hers. Such warmth, so moist, so soft. Her kiss reminded me of the first kiss I gave her in the golf steps way back in 1964. Her lips have never lost their appeal and never will.
We cuddled for another forty minutes before coming downstairs to start preparing a roast chicken dinner with roast potatoes, green beans, carrots, bread sauce and gravy. We almost always roast on Sundays. I opened an oaky chardonnay to go with it.
If you are wondering if there is a moral to this story, well, yes, make sure you use your electric toothbrush before going to sleep. Oral hygiene is so important, but always beware the unexpected ‘whoops!’
Peter Stone, 24th October 2015