Busy Sunday afternoon [m/f] [kink] | 2016

I've known Vanessa for half a decade. We're both in open relationships, though my time is very limited due to work -- as is hers. My wife would be away for a weekend, and Vanessa had an open Sunday afternoon. We missed Deadpool in the theater, and she still hadn't seen it, so I offered to pick it up at a redbox. The last time we talked she mentioned a problem with a nerve in her legs. I used to be known in the local BDSM scene for particular skills, so I had something handy to help that -- a TENS unit specifically made for erotic play. A really good one.

I got to her place around two, carrying my kit in a briefcase. We kissed at the door, me having to tilt my face up since she's got a couple inches of height over me. We got glasses of water and headed upstairs to her room. She was wearing the same modest sundress she wore a couple years earlier, when I had cooked her a pasta dinner. She stripped it off to help me with the salad in the warm kitchen, naked except for her panties. It was the first night I would take her to my bed. I liked that dress.

In her room I found a spot to stow my briefcase, stepped out of my shoes, and joined her on the mattress. Redbox didn't have Deadpool yet, so she brought it up on Amazon and rented it from there. As we settled into the pillows to watch, she brought out a little black vaporizor thing. I smelled pot.

My friends partake, I generally do not. They'd step out back during D&D for a smoke, and come back in with a stink and be dopey for a while as I tried to hold the game together. This device, on the other hand, gave off very little odor. I'd tried pot out twice before - she had shotgunned me at a camp once, and another time at a game I decided to take a pull. Neither led to any effect.

So I aped what I knew of how you're supposed to do this. I sucked on the vaporizor's slot outlet in a single long, slow inhale, held it in while my voicebox sent complaints, and let it out. And then -- coughing due to the sting in my throat. On subsequent pulls I increased the air mixture to reduce the heat in my throat, which resolved the issue.

We passed the thing back and forth for a while, me becoming increasingly unimpressed with the results. Some conversation -- catching up on her roommate, who I used to top as well. My married life. Our work lives. I would see her gaze flicker to my lips. I am familiar with this being a subconscious signal, an expression of interest in kissing. I didn't respond to it. Fear of demanding too much? Or of revealing the intensity of my desperation to take her? I was certain the signal was intentional; she's an expert at body language.

I resisted, unfortunately. I spend long moments every day fantasizing about holding her again. Every time I reach for my phone I think of messaging her. Weeks and months pass between our schedules lining up. No one else on Earth makes me feel their absence so intensely. I know if I relaxed my self-control I would absolutely smother her and drive her away. So I resist. Of the people I've told that I loved them, I've said it to her the least and meant it the most.

I felt a slight dizzyness, and attributed it to the breathing routine: ten second inhale, a minute of hold, long exhale. Very shortly after first noticing the dizzyness around the dozenth inhale, I somehow lost my balance while reclined. I handed her vaporizer back.

"I think I've had a sufficient amount," is probably something like what I said. I recall trying and failing to assemble an inquiry regarding what my estimated accumulated dosage was. Her response the second time I posed the statement well enough to be recognized as a question involved some fraction of a bowl, which meant nothing to me.

As the room slowly spun, I leaned against her while the movie played on. I broke into deranged laughter when I saw in the subtitles that Jared's dialogue was prefixed with "Agent Smith:".

She has told me that the effect of being high on pot was more subtle than being drunk. This was about as strong as being very drunk, for me. Slight movements felt amplified and echoed. I was struck dumb by the sensation.

My phone started ringing, and once I recognized what the noise was, I answered it. It was my wife, asking when I'd be home, if I wanted her to have dinner ready at a certain time. I had a lot of trouble formulating answers: my vocabulary was somewhere else, eating doritos and asking earnest questions about really listening to music.

She eventually hung up after remembering I was supposed to be on a date, and after I figured out how to hang up a call that was already ended, I returned to the bed to finish Deadpool. It is a good movie.

Vanessa got up to go to the bathroom. While she was gone for five or six hours (probably?), I used my newly acquired stoner powers to make the room disappear around me, leaving only the bed and the sun-dappled quilt floating on the swells of an invisible sea. She came back into bed and mentioned her leg pain.

Thanking her for the setup, I hung a lampshade on the blatant segue and pulled up my briefcase. I could tell I was coming back down, and was able to hold a conversation better. There would not be much more talking.

I took two pairs of sticky electrode pads out from their packaging. My TENS unit is kept on its 'high power' mode. Most people I play with are masochists, but the lower end of power is plenty gentle.

"It will be easiest if you're lying on your stomach,"

"Should I take my panties off?"

It wasn't necessary; I had easy access to the sacral node near the base of her spine, and the spots at the bottom of her butt cheeks. "You can, if you'd like," I inflected my voice to indicate I'd be happy if she did.

She slipped out of her underwear, leaving the dress on but pulled up over her waist as she lay back down. Goosebumps invited my touch, and I stroked her back and ass. I took my water and moistened her skin where the pads would go. Manuevering the glass into position to drip a small amount of water was a minor project in my state, and took far more intense concentration than I was used to employing. I felt that the strongest effects had worn off, however. She giggled at the icy drops and sighed at the massage.

I peeled pads off the plastic liner. I placed a pair on either side of the base of her spine, around the nerve clusters where sensations in the genitals and the sciatic nerve pass through. One each of the other pair went just below the crease where thighs and ass meet.

The technical term for the setup I used is "tri-phase". A splitter joins the two central pads on the shared common signal, with each thigh electrode on their own channels. The electricity in each channel would go between one butt cheek and the base of the spine, each side being independent. Triphase signals would travel on another path directly between the two thigh electrodes. It's super-effective.

I turned the dials up to 20%, usually about where the alternating current is first noticeable. A soft gasp and tensing, then an immediate relaxing and a quiet moan.

I'd loaded a half dozen custom routines; there's twice as many other standard routines on the device. I started out on a stronger one that has a nice predictable pattern -- my personal favorite when I use the machine on myself. An adjustment knob turns it from a vibration on one end that resolves into very fast pulses as you turn that dial down, spanking-like, eventually into a deep stroking sensation.

At low power levels, though, it's all variations on "tingle" - pins and needles as the electrons fight their way through resisting flesh.

She stretched out and submitted to the machine as I raised the power. The voltage got strong enough to pass more easily through the skin, turning the sensation from tingling to stroking to squeezing, as it eventually started triggering muscle movement. It's astonishing how much sensation can be provoked with single-digit volts and a few score milliamps.

Once she had warmed up, I moved to a routine designed to use a triphase setup, sending a current through her pussy in addition to the butt and lower back massage the other two circuits had been giving her. "Ohh..." was her response. She gripped the bedspread. I could see raised eyebrows and closed eyes. "Mmm."

I ran my hands down her back, over her ass, down the back of her long, slender legs. I missed just touching her, feeling her meeting my touch like a cat, her sensuous motions acting like an instruction manual, speaking directly to animal instinct: Yes please or This spot or More. When she chose to turn it on, she was the living essence of eroticism.

I raised the power in steps as she grew acclimated to each level. My purpose was to help relieve some pain she was having with the sciatic nerve, so I would not be indulging my sadistic side today. That was my plan, at least. I stopped pushing at around 45%. Amazingly, most people I've played with say yellow at 46%; it's uncanny. "Yellow" being a common safeword -- short of "red", the stopping safeword. Her hips would flex, grinding into the bed while I enjoyed the view. Her bare labia beckoned, but that could wait.

I felt we were ready to target her problem area. "Where is the sensation you get?" Her left arm slid down, indicating with her hand an area on her left backside. I turned off my unit and repositioned the pads accordingly, the pair staying near the base of the spine, but the right thigh's pad moving to the left hip.

The unit back on, I cuddled up beside her with it, re-introducing the controls to her. I watched as she experimented with the knobs, her reactions more subdued now since she was controlling the sensation. Still some small surprises though -- it does get spiky at each single percentage increment at the higher output levels.

Seeing where she was comfortable, I took back control and set up an automated routine. The power level would increase over time, and the signal would be a long, slow squeeze that intensified. I set it to max out a few steps higher than where we had stopped before.

With the device put aside to inexorably and predictably become more and more intense, I went back to stroking her; her spine, her ass, her thighs and calves, eventually timing my strokes opposite of the increasingly powerful ramping current.

Each time the signal peaked and held, it would cut out and start the cycle again. Each time it stopped, she sagged back onto the bed. But the next time it would be very slightly stronger. After a while, I gave in to my sadism. Instead of a soothing stroke after it cut off, I grabbed and twisted some skin -- not as hard as she likes, but hard enough to hurt. Her moans grew louder.

I didn't want to leave marks for her date later that evening, so I stopped escalating the pain and went back to stroking. As my fingertips traveled down her spine and over her ass, I'd let them descend to her inner thighs. She parted her legs further. I yielded to the most primitive lobes of my brain and slid my hand between her legs, massaging her pussy from the side. Light glinted from moisture seeping between her labia. Inhibition was overruled by intense need: "I want to taste you." The question pretending to be a statement was asked before I knew I asked it.

Her hips flexed up, thighs parting further. I bent down and pressed my face between her legs. For a few moments I ran my stretched tongue along her slit, my nose too far to press against her. The ridiculous positioning offended my sensibilities.

"Get on your back."

She awkwardly turned over in stages; I had become insensible with lust and neglected to turn the power level down, so she had to make careful movements with her muscles sometimes flexing under the current. In hindsight, not one of my top moments, but I was barely rational beneath my controlled demeanor.

Holding the electrode leads out of the way for her, I watched her ease onto her back and spread her legs. I layed down between them, resting my hands on her hips, her knees over my shoulders. It had been too long since I last looked upon her from this perspective, outside of daydreams.

Her already wet lips parted easily for my tongue. Her taste ... was simply pure, clean. The platonic ideal of aroused cunt. The rational part of my mind, observing from the detention cell it had been locked away in by now, mused that she prepared for this eventuality earlier. In the stretched time of my persistent high I lived between her thighs.

Periodically her moans would peak.

The device would take half a minute to reach its highest level before cutting out, and starting again five seconds later. For the last few moments of each cycle, the intensity of the sensation would threaten to cross a threshold into being unbearable -- but just before that point, it would cut out.

Sexual arousal does fun things to the sensation of pain. Every few minutes, she would grip my hair between her fingers as she held my head against her. My licks were in the exploratory phase, opening her, circling the clit, sliding up and down the inner labia.

The electrodes would steal most of her attention, but whenever that sensation dropped the surge of relief would heighten the pleasure from my going down on her. She came, and began rolling from orgasm to orgasm between the harsh buzz of the electrodes and my tongue on her clit.

After another shuddering orgasm, I paused, worried she was going to be late getting ready for her date, and I had no idea what time it was. I eased her down from an orgasm and brought up the subject.

"Oh!", as though it had slipped her mind. She groped for her phone; it was fifteen till. I'd been there for just shy of four hours. She put the phone back down. "It's ok, we have some more time." I nearly instantly dove back into her pussy.

I began circling her entrance with my thumb, teasing it, letting her hip movements slide the tip in and out. She began pushing herself onto it. I cradled my chin with my palm to orient my thumb better. My slow licks matched the movements of her hips, pace never changing as she rose and fell between orgasms driven by the contrasting signals coming from her electrified back side, her relentlessly licked clit, and my thumb pushing against her g-spot.

Her hands began really messing up my hair while she squeezed my head between her thighs. If we had time -- I would start the cycle over. It had reached the power level I set it to ramp up to some time ago. With her turning into an orgasmic puddle, I would start it at a lower power setting and ramp it up to its maximum output over the course of an hour, daring her to safeword as she crashed from orgasm to unstoppable orgasm. I had bought her an insertable electrode long ago and had it with me, but to her later regret she didn't ask about using it again.

But there was no time. She clenched and shrieked a final time and I turned the power level down, kissing and soothing her pussy as she returned from wherever the orgasms sent her.

We cuddled and chatted for a bit. I washed my hands and face, left her with a kiss at the door, and went home. I later fucked the living daylights out of my wife, part of a welcome home from her trip, and shared a few details. I guess I'm going to have to get a vaporizing thing, she was amused by my uncharacteristic mellowness that evening.