My husband is a slut.
John would never openly admit that, of course. He grew up in a Catholic family, the type who never actually set foot in a church but put their kids in a Catholic school just so they get enough doctrine to feel ashamed of themselves for the rest of their lives. He's an out and proud gay man and his family is perfectly lovely and accepting of me and our marriage.
But he gets inside his head during sex. Which is such a shame. He's gorgeous. Dark hair, striking facial features, a fit body without being pretentious about it, and my favorite, a beautiful, perfect penis. Long and thick enough to fill my mouth and my hole nicely without worrying about damaging my internal organs. And the slight curve it gets when he's rock hard is perfect for skull fucking me or punching my prostate until I cum hands free.
I love being a bottom, and I have no shame about it, but he's made occasional comments that reveal that internalized homophobia he got from his Catholic upbringing. After more than a decade together, I've realized that it's not a dig at me. It's because he's curious about exploring that side of himself, but he's ashamed to admit it. In his mind, it's one thing to be gay, but a whole other thing to admit to being a cock loving bottom pig.
Even with these challenges, we have a great marriage and an active sex life. And I've been able to push his boundaries despite that ever-present Catholic shame. We've explored quite a bit and I've seen glimpses of his true desires. I know he loves cock in his throat because he once took me all the way and I could feel his lips around the base of my dick and he just kept it there. But then when I grabbed his head and held it in place there, his shameful brain kicked in and he fought me off. It's like he wants to choke on a dick, but only if it's a secret no one else knows about.
We've had deep conversations about all of this, of course. I've told him how much I just want him to let go, and he's admitted that some of the hottest sex we've had is when he doesn't think about it and just enjoys it. But it's still a struggle.
So I found a solution.
We would sometimes get edibles from a friend of ours. It was a great way for me to relax with how stressful my job can get, but John would mostly just fall asleep. He would say he didn't feel anything, and I would always fill him in later on a few of the funny things he'd said before passing out. I would confess how horny the edibles always made me, and that always seemed to perk his ears. I've always rolled my eyes at people who claim that being drunk or high made them do things they would never otherwise do. But that's based on my own experience. I have always known exactly what I'm doing when I've been drunk or high. But, hey, if others say it loosens them up -- if that's what John thinks, especially -- then maybe there's an opportunity there.
One weekend evening, we'd had our dinner and started our weekend sex routine. One thing I'd gotten John to do was learn about better preparation. Any good bottom knows that preparing well allows you to relax and enjoy whatever may happen. And even though I'm a bottom and love my husband's dick, he's also got a really hot ass. A nice round shape to it and a hot little pucker that he knows drives me crazy when he shows it off. And I love eating his ass. And he loves me eating his ass. But he also knows I have expectations so that we can both enjoy it.
I had gone first and was browsing through pictures of slutty boys on Instagram while John finished up in the shower. I had put a t-shirt and jeans on with a simple black jockstrap. John loved fucking me in a basic jockstrap -- the locker room was his go-to fantasy and even though I wasn't much of a jock, I knew it turned him on to pretend he was fucking me in my jock on the locker room bench.
John emerged from our bedroom suite in a tank top and running shorts. I could see the jock fantasy was alive and strong tonight. I loved when he'd wear this outfit for our sexcapades because he'd add a jock even though the running shorts had built-in support, and because the shorts were so short you could see the straps around the bottom curve of his cheeks as they stuck out he bottom of the shorts.
But tonight I didn't see any straps.
"Going commando in your shorts, I see," I said, "going for an actual run?"
"No, I'm not going commando," John replied, and came over to where I was on the couch, faced away from me, and bent over slightly while he lowered the running shorts. There, right in front of my face, he revealed that hot, round ass of his in a bright pink Andrew Christian thong with the words POWER BTM emblazoned on the waistband.
I had gotten the thong mostly as a joke because of John's disdainful comments about bottoms. But in the year or so since I bought it, I learned that my repressed Catholic husband liked to use this thong as a code for the times when he was most open to us exploring his bottom urges.
"Does this mean what I think it means?" I asked.
"Well, I thought maybe you'd like to use some toys on me tonight," he teased.
We had used toys before, of course. He actually had a really hungry hole. It had once sucked five fat beads one by one without a break. And then there was the time we tried the double-ended dildo. His hole just kept taking more and more of it to where there was barely any left for me to enjoy. He'd acted surprised when I told him how much he had taken, but again, I knew John was just embarrassed to admit to having a hungry, slutty hole. After all, what would people think if they knew he was a bottom?
"Come with me," I said, and he followed me into our kitchen. He sat down on one of the barstools at our kitchen island while I retrieved a small snack-sized plastic bag from the back of our spice cupboard. I laid a cocktail napkin on the counter across from John and set a single gummy bear on its center.
"Before you eat this gummy bear, you should know that it's a special kind. I didn't get these from Chad."
"OK..." he replied, a puzzled look in his eyes.
I continued, "We've talked about how in-your-head you can get during sex, and so I did some research and found this special edible. It's a different strain that won't make you tired, but it will make you really horny and even make you feel a bit hypnotized. I was told that sometimes people don't even remember what they did after eating this gummy, but when they find out what they did it never turns out to be something they wouldn't otherwise want to do. So I wouldn't take one at the same time as you. I'd be like your designated driver to make sure you don't harm yourself. That's if you trust me, of course."
"Of course I trust you," John said, "but it sounds a bit scary. I doubt it would even work like that. But let's give it a try. I'm already pretty horny and maybe it will help me relax and just focus on pleasure. If it helps me be a bottom for a few hours, that's not so bad."
And then he gave me a wink. See what I mean? He wants to be a bottom slut, he just doesn't want to admit it's a choice he made.
I just locked eyes with him. He was going to have to embrace his desires in some way. I wanted to have hot sex with my husband, but I wasn't going to force him. I watched while he eyed the tiny gummy bear on the counter and then, suddenly, he snatched it up and popped it in his mouth.
"What now?" John asked.
"I don't know. I assume it will take a bit to take effect, like other edibles. Let's just relax on the couch for a bit."
We moved back to the couch and settled into a cuddle. I could sense John's breathing getting a bit slower and he seemed really relaxed. After a bit, we started to make out. I loved when we made out. We would make out for hours when we first started dating, but in recent years it was something John didn't seem to like as much except when he would let himself go.
After a long makeout session that included a lot of pawing at each other, my dick was so hard in that jock under my jeans.
I kissed around his face and nibbled on his earlobe and then whispered, "Why don't you be a good little slut and suck my dick?"
