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I love it when my wife sucks on my nipples, although it would be easier for her if I had a little more breast for her to latch onto.
Easier for her, and I love it just as much, is when she licks my nipples.
I also love it when she twists my nipples, as in, "Tune in Tokyo," from the comedy movie "The Other Woman." That's where she got the idea to tune in Tokyo, which simply means she grabs my nipple with her thumb and forefinger to turn and tune my nipple like a knob on an old-fashioned radio.
I also love it when my wife clamps two of her miniature craft clothespins on my nipples.
As a bonus, do you have time for an extremely-painful and somewhat funny story about the most recent time my wife clamped the clothespins on my nipples? Regardless of your time constraints, here goes . . .
A few weeks ago, during a lovemaking session, my wife clamped a miniature clothespin on each nipple. One of the clothespins malfunctioned--the one on my right nipple, in case you are taking meticulous notes. One of the two wood pieces twisted and popped out of the metal-spring mechanism. The one remaining wood piece with the metal-spring mechanism was still able to clamp itself onto my nipple with my nipple trapped between the wood piece and the metal-spring mechanism, so we continued. Neither my wife nor I paid much attention to the malfunction because we were more focused on what my private part was doing to her private part and vice-versa.
About 10-15 minutes later, after our private parts were satisfied, satiated, and, in a word, finished with their in-and-out adventure, I turned my attention to removing my clamped nipples from their tormentors. I easily released my left nipple from the grasp of the working clothespin. However, my right nipple was in quite a quandary, trapped between the wood piece and the metal-spring mechanism. Normally, with a working clothespin, you press on the two wood "handles" to quickly and easily release a shirt, or, in my case, a nipple. I was able grab the one remaining wood handle, but I could not see the metal-spring mechanism well enough to grab on to remove it. It was just below my chin and at an awkward angle for my eyes to see what I was doing, especially without my reading glasses.
I quickly enlisted my wife’ help as the nipple pain was rapidly increasing now that my brain was no longer lingering on my loins. The spring and the wood were so tight on my nipple that it took at least 30 painful seconds for my wife to carefully wedge her fingernail between my then white nipple and the metal spring so she could gently pry them apart.
Ouch! I like some pain, but not that much.
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