After 120 days of HRT, the intensity of our sex life has not yet stabilized at a new level and continues to increase. Each week we reach a new milestone, but before I share yesterday’s milestone with you, let me summarize the previous ones.
Due to the long duration and logistical aspect of our squirting sessions, we used to have them only every two or three months, and only on weekends, when we have plenty of time to play and to clean up all the mess afterwards. As expected, HRT made her crave for more and more squirting sessions, first once a month, then twice, and this month we had sessions for two weekends in a row. Squirting sessions became wilder and more unpredictable. I’m not complaining, but since anal swaddling is the cornerstone of our sex life and we used to sleep connected only on weekends, this was creating a scheduling conflict (on the nights of squirting sessions, we get so exhausted that we can’t sleep connected). Now, she’s started asking me to sleep connected on random weekdays as well. I need to double-check the alarm clock so we don’t oversleep and arrive late for work.
It’s difficult for me to explain how a night of sleep is becoming more intense. HRT is pouring rocket fuel into her body, but her mind lagged behind and is now racing to keep up with her body’s desires. During the day, she restrains herself from jumping on me at social events, but at night, when her ego is sleeping, her body chases mine in bed. When I turn my back to her, she comes closer and hugs me from behind, playing the big spoon while I’m the little spoon. Sometimes she corners me in bed: she gets so close that I almost fall. When she turns her back on me, her foot “calls” me to big-spoon her. Then she pushes her hips back toward me, sticking her butt out at me. After some minutes, her foot intertwines with my foot, pinning me to her, specifically my pelvis against her pert butt: it’s really difficult to escape her foot lock.
Our swaddling ritual is slowly evolving into something less ceremonial, less verbal and more somatic. Since somnophilia, dormaphilia and sleep sex border on rape, we have developed an entire protocol for mutual authorization and signaling of pre-consent. But sixteen years of a solid swaddling routine gave us the confidence to read each other’s body language, so the practice is now venturing into uncharted waters, testing our own limits.
Now, when I plug me into her, it feels like her butt cushion doesn’t stay in my way, it’s like a flat butt (even though her butt is physically the same: round, fluffy, cozy, cute). HRT dissolved all her body’s resistance, and her ass “melts” around me: I reach her colon faster and stay deeper. Her foot applies the foot lock and pins me to her. Before HRT, whenever my penis pulsed inside her, her sphincter would squeeze me. After HRT, she squeezes me four times in a row, weaker-weak-strong-stronger. This creates a loop, a dialogue between our bodies while we sleep. Her colon also learned to use peristaltic movements to continuously caress my glans, slowly, from the tip to the base; after three caresses, her sphincter squeezes me. All of this helps me to regain and maintain an erection for longer: we stay plugged in for much longer and we sleep peacefully.
But yesterday, in the middle of night, her body jolted several times as if she had received electric shocks. She didn’t wake up, but I had to hold her. I suspect that these intense, involuntary full-body muscular contractions may have been anal-only orgasms, or an escalation towards them. This morning she remembered nothing, but her body knows exactly what happened. I’ll keep reading it; more news coming soon.