Did You Bring the Gag?

Just  like I am about sex, I’m also very open minded about music. Rock, rap, trance, country, whatever, I like it. Whitman likes all kinds of music, too…rock, folk, opera, whatever. He has, however, declared a blanket dislike of country music. I started thinking about this yesterday. I’m not the BIGGEST country fan, but there are times when it’s appropriate. I found Whitman’s closed-mindedness on the subject unusual, and determined to talk to him about it…out of curiosity, of course. He had other ideas.

When I arrived at his place yesterday evening for our mid-week “conjugal visit,” I had a cocktail, and then started trying to get to the root of his dislike. Is it from unfamiliarity, or he doesn’t like the music, or the lyrics, or what?? How can you NOT LIKE classic Merle Haggard?? Blah, blah, blah…

Fast-forward to cocktail #2, and I was STILL talking about it. Non-stop.
I was on a mission, and just kept on and on AND ON about it, until finally Whitman interrupted,
“Did you bring the gag?”  I paused for the briefest second and thought about it, then replied, “Nope.” I resumed my tirade, following him into the bedroom talking non-stop as he rummaged for something.

He held up what he’d found.
I didn’t have the gag with me because HE HAD IT there already! He walked over to me, and as I continued to babble about music, he popped the gag in my mouth. (It’s more of a PACIFIER than a ball gag, and it served the purpose perfectly). He said, “Most of the time you’re the perfect woman. Right now, you’re talking wayyyy too much.”
Not only was I instantly silenced, I was instantly wet, so very  wet.

He pulled the strap tightly around my head, and all I could do was whimper and suck the gag that filled my mouth while I removed my clothes as instructed. Whitman did express some disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to fuck my face with this gag in place, but he did enjoy the chance to fuck me everywhere else in peace.