Toys
by Chrissie39©


My husband, like most men, is a gadget freak. He likes nothing better than some 
new toy. It makes Christmas and birthdays very easy for me -- well, that was 
until he started to buy his own toys.

Before I go any further I had better introduce myself. I'm Sally, 39, slim 
(after that diet I should be) and I can still get into my wedding dress. My 
vitals are 34E-24-36, a bit of an old fashioned figure, but the curves are in 
the right places. If only I could lose a bit more off my bum! I'm married to 
Chris, 43, six feet six in his socks and oh so handsome. He still only has to 
look at me with those big brown eyes to make me feel weak at the knees.

Yes, we are as much in love as the day we married. I was 18 then and that's a 
long time to remain infatuated with the same man. But he turns me on all the 
time. His only fault (if it can be called a fault) is he has this slight 
inclination to be masterful. This is probably because I compliment him by being 
very submissive, so in all those years have never challenged his authority.

Back to the subject of his toys; as I said, I love to buy him gadgets for 
presents - things like the remote controlled indoor helicopter he got for 
Christmas this year or anything for his beloved computer is always very welcome. 
However, he has developed a liking for sex toys, not for himself but for him to 
use on me. 

Now don't think I'm complaining - it can be a lot of fun to be driven to 
countless orgasms with a rabbit or have that butterfly strapped to my pussy for 
hours at a time keeping me on the verge of climax till he takes it off and, 
well, you know exactly what don't you? The whole point of writing this account 
of his toys is to tell you about his latest find, a remote controlled egg.

For those not initiated into the wonderful art of sex toys an egg is just that, 
an egg shaped plastic sphere that inserts into your pussy. The remote 
radio-control can be used several yards away to start, stop, increase the 
sensations, and to change the program. No, not the TV programme; it has several 
different modes from a soft vibration, to a throbbing wild thing.

At first it was fun for him to be in another room and, suddenly, the egg would 
start to vibrate deep inside me, sending wonderful sensations through me, making 
me long for his big hard cock. He has brought me to orgasm with this thing 
several times and he has made me beg him to take it out and 'fuck me', a word I 
would never use except in those circumstances.

All this is a bit tame for this site you may be thinking, however I am just 
getting to the real story of this egg and my husband's domination of me 
sexually.

We were going to a dinner/dance one night. It was his company 'do' just before 
Christmas. He bought me a fantastic trouser suit for the occasion, silk and very 
flattering. I felt very pampered and sexy wearing this designer outfit, the 
trousers flared from the knee and the sleeves likewise from the elbow. The pants 
fitted my new slimmer bum so tight it made my bum look quite exposed. I only 
ever wear a thong so no visible panty lines.

On that evening we were in the bedroom getting ready to go out. I had showered 
and done my hair. My makeup as good as I was able to make it and, yes, looking 
in the mirror I was quite pleased with the overall effect. As I was about to 
step into my new lacy thong with matching bra he had brought home for me that 
day, he said "Wait a minute", and opened his bedside drawer.

I wondered what on earth he had got me now, but when he brought out the egg I 
looked at the clock and said "We don't have time to mess around with that now, 
wait till we come home." 

That wicked look he sometimes has crossed his face as he replied "We have all 
night" and, sitting me on the bed, he moistened the egg with his mouth and 
inserted it deep inside me. Now I know I should have objected but I am well 
aware of how persuasive he can be, so just accepted his will. We finished 
dressing and as we left the bedroom he slipped the remote control into his 
pocket.

As we sped along the motorway to our rendezvous he turned it on, making me 
squirm in the seat, my heart in my mouth as I knew he would be giving me thrills 
with the egg all night. I would be absolutely gagging for it by the time we got 
home. He had used it on me in the most inappropriate places before but only on 
our own, never in company. How on earth was I going to handle it? 

By the time we had reached the venue I was almost climaxing. He had turned it on 
and off several times, not just for his amusement but for my pleasure as well.

It was a formal dinner so we sat opposite each other at the table with alternate 
male and female guests; I sat between his boss and another man whom I hadn't met before.

My husband's boss is a lecherous old man with a terrible reputation in the 
office for leering at the young females at every opportunity. It was general 
knowledge that he would take every advantage of his position as the managing 
director to get into their knickers. The stories about him and any girl silly 
enough to submit to his advances were rife and some of them were probably true.

Before the soup course had been served he had turned that thing on a couple of 
times. I was sure the buzzing could be heard by the men sitting either side of me.

I kicked him under the table as he flicked the switch in his pocket, making me 
tense my tummy muscles as another wave of sensations swept through me.

All through dinner he kept it up, holding me in suspense just short of 
climaxing, watching my eyes for that tell tale sign and stopping just in time. I 
was trying so hard to keep up a conversation with the other people at the table 
but had to keep biting my lip to stop myself from crying out in ecstasy.

At last the dinner was over. I was able to speak to him and I begged him to let 
me go to the ladies room and take it out, but he said "No it stays in all night, 
you love it really." He was right. I did love the feelings it created inside me 
but not here in mixed company where I was conscious of the position he held and 
how I was supposed to behave. 

The tables cleared and the band on went stage. His boss came up and said "May I 
have this dance with your charming wife Chris?" Cheeky old bugger, he could have 
asked me! I had danced with him before; he was good sweeping me across the floor to the applause of the assembled company.

I don't want to sound immodest but I can dance pretty well. We made an 
impressive couple as he waltzed me round the room, until that is my darling 
husband turned that damn thing on again. I had momentarily forgotten about that 
egg, it made my knees go weak, faltering in my steps, almost falling over. Thank 
God he didn't keep it on for long - only a few seconds, but that was quite 
enough. I was going to have words with him.

As his boss walked me back to our table he asked if I was alright. "You look a 
little flushed," he said, sounding quite concerned. 

I sat down beside Chris asking him to come outside with me, he smiled and said 
"Can't you wait till we get home? Do you want it in the car park?" I totally 
despair of him at times. He thinks sex is the only thing on my mind. He's not so 
far out, but at this moment I could kill him.

Telling him I needed to talk to him urgently, he escorted me out to the car 
park; I told him it was just too much when he almost made me come on the dance 
floor with everybody looking on and his lecherous old boss holding me. "Please," 
I begged him, "Let me take it out." He promised not to switch it on again if I 
left it in. Am I a complete fool or what!? I knew as well as he did it was an 
empty promise; he couldn't resist the opportunity to turn me on, especially in 
this room crowded with his work colleagues and their wives. I couldn't believe 
it he actually didn't turn it on again for ages. Perhaps my entreaties had 
worked, as the evening wore on and several of the older staff left for an early 
night. 

The band slowed the tempo and most couples were just smooching around the floor. 
He took me in his arms and we joined the throng weaving around to the strains of 
some old love song. His hand left my back for a moment and the effect of those 
delightful pulses hit me again, sending shivers down my spine and some very 
naughty sensations through my body. His arm returned into place on my back.

How long was he going to leave it throbbing in my pussy? He didn't seem to care 
that it was driving me to distraction, bringing me closer to orgasm by the 
second.

He held me as the first spasm of orgasmic pleasure swept through me. If he 
hadn't have been holding me tight I would have collapsed in an orgasmic heap in 
the middle of the dance floor. Still he didn't turn it off; the feelings were 
getting greater as I went into a full climax in his arms, hanging on to him for 
support. I kept biting my lip to prevent myself from crying out in orgasmic 
pleasure and when the music stopped he switched it off and helped me to my seat, 
a quivering wreck. I tried to scold him but it was like water off a ducks back, 
he just smiled and said "So you didn't enjoy it then," knowing how much I love 
to come.

The last waltz struck up. He led me onto the floor and, as we stepped onto the 
hardwood, one of his friends and his wife whom we often get together with as 
friends met us. Mike asked if he could have a dance with me. Smiling in his 
cheeky way he said "How about a wife swap." His wife Gill slapped him playfully 
and moved into Chris's arms.

Mike swept me onto the floor. Again he was a much better dancer that my hubby 
who almost totally lacks any sense of rhythm. As we swayed to the music I just 
knew what would happen any moment....and it did. I felt the thing inside me 
start to buzz gently at first, but get stronger as each second slipped by. Then 
it changed tempo. Chris might not be able to understand music very well but he 
knew just how to play my tune. I had no choice but to cling to Mike as if my 
life depended on it. He looked a little shocked because I'm normally quite well 
behaved, never drinking too much and so always in charge of my emotions. 

Was that crazy man of mine going to make me come in someone else's arms? Quite 
possible! He has been that reckless at other times but never in a place like 
this, with me in another mans arms.

Forget the formal dance hold; my arms went round Mike's neck just hanging on for 
dear life as that egg brought me closer every second to another climax. Was my 
dearest going to stop it in time? Did I really want him too? Was I so turned on 
by the events of the evening? Had I lost my inhibitions enough to want to have a 
full blown climax in the arms of a virtual stranger? The choice wasn't mine; it 
was entirely his, the bad man. I groaned as the first tingling sensations crept 
into my pussy. He wasn't going to stop, should I run for my life or just hang 
onto Mike? Whatever was he going to think of me obviously having an orgasm in 
his arms in the middle of the dance floor? Whatever he thought I was not really 
aware of his reactions as my knees went weak and my body strained to stay 
upright. My wicked husband had made me come while dancing with another man.

Mike was worried about me. I think he thought I had fainted, at least I hoped 
that was what he thought. What if he knew just what had happened while he was 
dancing with me? He led me back to the table offering all sorts of comforting 
advice, "Put your head between your knees," he said "if you feel faint." 

He got me a glass of water, thinking it would revive me; I needed a big whip to 
thrash my husband not a glass of water. I was really angry with him, wanted to 
smash him in the mouth for what he had just done, but as he led Gill back to her 
table he smiled at me with that wonderful boyish charm, making my tummy turn 
somersaults. He knew he could get away with anything he liked with me; just 
giving me that smile, knowing it would melt my heart.

Goodbyes all round, lots of kisses from friends and some who were drunk enough 
to think they were bosom pals and out to the car. He didn't say anything till we 
got on the road. Then he smiled at me saying "Well did you enjoy that?" 

"Some of it," I replied.

"Oh, which bits didn't you like," he asked, as innocent as a baby.

I said "You shouldn't have done that to me when I was dancing with other men" 

He said "So you don't like orgasms any more? That's a pity because I thought you 
might like several more before you go to sleep tonight". He knew I couldn't deny 
I had enjoyed being made to climax in public; he had done it before but not by 
remote control and not in some other man's arms. He looked across at me and 
switched that egg on again. As I tensed in the seat he said "Shall I turn it off 
then?"

I managed a strangled "No."

Within a mile, even at motorway speed I was thrashing around in the seat as wave 
after wave of pure orgasmic pleasure swept through me. I was as turned on as I 
have ever been. He pressed a button and the seat gently let me fall back into a 
more comfortable position, almost laying down, giving me room to stretch my legs 
as my orgasm soared through me. After about five or six miles of constant 
orgasmic bliss he turned it off, saying "You need a rest for a while." Yes, I 
thought, about a week would be good. But knowing him, as I do, a few minutes 
till he dreamed up something else was about my limit.

Off the motorway onto country roads he drove with his usual care, till we came 
to a very nice picnic area. He turned into the car park, stopping the car near 
one of those cross legged tables with the seats fixed on either side. There were 
other cars scattered round the area, but none close to where he parked. I 
thought they, like us, were enjoying a little passion in the outdoors. How 
innocent must you think I am?

It was a beautiful summer's night; well early morning actually, the moon giving 
enough light to be able to see quite clearly. I thought at last he's getting 
romantic!

He got out and held my door open for me, helping me out of the low sports car. 
My light cream silk trouser suit looked almost luminescent as I stepped into the 
moonlight. Leading me to the picnic table he took me in his arms holding me 
tight to his body. I could feel the bulge in his trousers as he held me tight. 
He lifted me up so my bum was on the table and then proceeded to take my 
trousers down, slipping them right off my feet, taking my shoes with them. Then 
my thong, he pushed me back gently till I was laying on the table top, my pussy 
bared to his view. He reached into his pocket and turned that damn egg on again.

Slipping his fingers into my wet pussy as the egg started to work its magic on 
my body, his fingers crooked to find my "G" spot and his thumb on my clitty. I 
didn't care we were exposed in the open. I wanted satisfaction. I needed his big 
hard cock inside me. All my anger at his embarrassing me throughout the evening 
was gone, evaporated, with my longing for his cock. 

As you can imagine it only took seconds for his combined efforts with the egg to 
bring me to orgasm. Oh, what a fantastic feeling as it sort of crept up on me 
then at the very last moment it hit me so hard, making me cry out with lust as 
it ripped through my shaking body. I was screaming at him to fuck me. "Stick 
your cock in me now." All sorts of obscenities were leaving my lips; things I 
would never say at any other time. "Please, oh please fuck me now", I cried.

But my pussy was still full of that damn egg. He pulled it out by the little 
cord that still dangled out of me. The feelings it caused after being inside me 
for hours were not as you might imagine - no relief, just an empty feeling. It 
made my desire for his cock even greater, I was still begging him for it as he 
dropped his trousers and presented his straining cock to my lips. As he pushed 
it into me I climaxed yet again.

How many times had he driven me over the edge this evening? But more was still 
to come. I heard him say "We have an audience." I opened my eyes to see several 
men with their cocks in their hands watching as he drove his cock deep inside 
me. To shouts of encouragement from the dirty old men he fucked me so hard I 
climaxed again and again, my body just responding to the onslaught of his 
wonderful cock. He lifted my legs over his shoulders allowing him to penetrate 
even deeper. The shouts of "Go on, mate fuck the little whore hard, give it to 
her deep" and "Fill her with spunk." Terrible words to a woman of my breeding 
but turning me on just the same. One of them was close enough for me to be able 
to see his foreskin jerking back and forth over his shiny knob. 

I just knew he was going to come over me, and for a fleeting moment I thought 
about my wonderful new silk suit. The top was still on me, was he going to shoot 
his come all over it. But a slightly harder thrust took all thoughts of silk 
suits out of my head as he gripped my thighs giving him leverage to power his 
huge cock into my so responsive pussy.

I think I must have fainted for a few seconds as I suddenly realised he was 
coming deep inside me, his cock pulsating with the intensity of his own orgasm.

I got not one but three of them shooting their hot come at me, not over my 
precious suit but right into my face. I closed my eyes but couldn't shut my 
mouth as I needed more air that I could take through my nose. I was gasping for 
breath but getting copious amounts of spunk instead, as they emptied themselves 
all over my carefully made up face. One of them actually asked if he could have 
a go! But thank goodness Chris said "No she's not for sale or hire," letting my 
legs down and helping me to get something like dressed.

Driving the rest of the way home in silent contemplation, I didn't know what to 
say. What on earth can you say to your husband when he has kept you on the brink 
of a climax all evening in a crowded room, then made you come in stranger's 
arms, finally fucking you in public?

There is only one thing to say. "Thank you darling." 

PS: In a phone call from Gill on Monday, she said "Mike was really worried about 
you, he said it was as if you had come in his arms."

"Yes," I replied, "I must admit it sort of felt like that!"