Yesterday I  ran a hot bath, I filled it with green tea bath salts and rose petals, I lit candles. It was all about relaxation and soaking.

Then I thought–-hell this is the perfect time to test drive the new 8” suction cup dildo.

Starting slow, with my fingers, I was already slick though, I have been horny for a few solid days. I switched to the dildo, I did not suction cup it to anything, but just ran it along my slit, enjoying the way the silicone feels sort of like real cock. Pushing the tip of the clear blue dick into my puffy lips, I opened myself up–running the length of the shaft between my lips, causing me to immediately want more. When I pushed the tip of the cock deeper I simultaneously felt my clit with my other hand.

I stayed slow, I was in there to relax.

Letting the dildo fall to the wayside, I drifted into thoughts of sucking cock. Not one particular cock–my imagination makes up cock–thoughts of what I think your cock is like, the cock I have tasted in the past. My ideal.

I switched to the jimmyjane’s (love that I can take it in the bath) low rumble, not in my pussy or directly on my clit, but on the mound, the surface–it makes me very creamy when I do this. Needy creamy.

The dildo drifted around the bottom of the bathtub, bumping into my thighs–seeking somewhere to go. I must oblige the inanimate cock. I must oblige my cunt.

More earnestly I fuck myself, the rumble closer to my clit, working my folds, opening myself up more and more–I start to work the dildo in. I do enjoy a nice big cock. It feels right and good, I have about half of the cock in squeezing tightly around it, gripping like I wish it were you. Like I would never have to let go of you. Like my pussy could hold you forever.

As I fuck, I notice my mouth dropping open, as it often does when I fuck myself. My mouth wants cock too, my mouth wants your cum.

I rise and stick the suction portion to the bottom of the bathtub, on my knees I lower my cunt to the tip, I slowly take it in, slow sliding up and down the shaft. My mouth still opening for some invisible cock. I ride. I grind. Slow turns to fast. I cram my pussy all the way down on to the cock–it hurts and feels fantastic at the same time.

I place three fingers in my hungry mouth–I think about you cumming, about you cumming in my mouth, my hair, my chin, my tits. And I fuck. In my mind I am devouring your cock with my lips and mouth. Questions and images of those questions run through my head the closer I get to coming.

What is the consistency of your cum?
Would you like it if I filled my mouth with your balls?
How rough of a blow job do you like?
Are you extra sensitive, could I have my way with you?
Do you want to feed me your dick?
How hard could I squeeze your balls?
Do you like it when my tongue slides into your slit?
What does your cum taste like?

I move my fingers from my mouth to the junction between my legs as I grind down and fuck few more strokes–daytripping about you feeding me your cum.  The flickering film in my head has you stroking your cock, pointing it at me, my mouth eagerly drops open, my tongue wagging in waiting. One last grind onto the prosthetic cock and I cum in a gush–I can see the white cream pooling around the clear blue of the dildo from inside my pussy and I see you cumming– hovering over me in bath, one last stroke of your cock–you shoot, gripping your cock tightly making sure I get every last drop I deserve.  Damn I love your cum.

Come on and give me some.

Fleeing the gawking, aroused and shocked stares of those who had just saw me getting fisted from across the pond to the sinews of Andy Goldsworthy’s wall, we ran like children who just heard the words “ready of not here I come,” we had to hide and quick.

I felt innocent and wild, like he was the first boy to ever get a feel of my pussy, even though in actuality it was his whole hand that was filling me up.

From the bench we tried to stroll like we were only appreciating the art, the show was over, then we ran. Andy Goldsworthy took refuge on us. Behind the carefully placed stone by stone wall we hid–we laughed–astounded at our own blatant behavior. We kissed, our lust fueled again. The smell of earth and stone and my cunt were everywhere. I needed cock.

The wet panties had to go.

Slipping them off shoving them into my tiny hand bag, I hike my soft skirt up–bend in half and show you my ass, from behind I run my fingers into the swell between my thighs. Turning toward you, lowering to my knees I begin the undo, the the belt the buttons, give me that cock already.

The head of your cock pops out from the hole of your polka dot boxers– the thickness fills my hands and then my mouth. I suck with earnest–I am that woman who wants to make your cock hard as possible just so you will fuck me with it. I am not sucking for you, but for me. To make your cock mine, to make it where I need to it be– so I can truly feel it when you plunge into my cunt. The fisting, that verge of orgasm has me focused on one mission–to feel you fill me up.

Sloppily I get you slicked up, my knees into the earth, the sticks, pebbles and dirt sticking to my knees–the lack of comfort  is no deterrence for my want of your thickness. Your ready, and I was ready when we were back on that bench.

Again, in half I bend, my hands steadied by Mr. Goldswothy’s sound construction and the soil below me.  Your hands grab my ass plowing your root into me, the rhythm and the cadence grow, my pussy tightens and locks onto you. We have no choice but to slow down, my cunt has locked us together. Deeper is the only answer.

Fuck me growls out of my mouth.
“Fuck me.”
“Fuck me.”
My cunt forces you out of me, she does that sometime, I turn back around your dick dangling hard in front of me –irritated, coated in a mucus cream from inside of me, anxious and dripping from its tip. To my knees I fall and mount your branch with my mouth. When I look up the sunlight from the trees glistens and filters and glints through the the green lenses of my sunglasses, looking at you from below you too appear to be lost in the sunlight.

A jerk from deep inside you cues me, I give a nice slow flat tongue lick along the back side of your cock–from balls to tip, swallow you down, hold you there. Backing out of my mouth willingly and unwillingly–you stroke while I watch, it only takes few measured pumps in your hand until silver clear strands fill the air, landing on my waiting tongue, and hair and fingers. Looking up at you I smile show you the cum on my finger on tongue then drink you down.

I love the way you cum.

I have alwasy considered myself a pro when it comes to “cock worship.” There is nothing like having cock in my mouth– that mix of hard stone and the soft velvet of flesh combined with the saltiness of pre cum. There is a power I have when your cock is in my mouth. The sounds I can elicit from you with my tongue as it runs the backside of your shaft. The sigh that escapes my own mouth at the pleasure I get from having you this way.

I like to slide my tongue in you slit and taste that drip of brine, suck it like a straw trying to get more. Cirlcing my tongue around your round head, running it along the ridge, trying to know you through your cock. Is that possible? In some ways I think so. I try to link more than mouth to cock, because to me it is. I don’t just suck cock, I want it and I do slip into worship, I get lost.

I am sure I’ve mentioned that I try to be a generous lover on nearly every occasion, men like to have their cocks sucked in a variety ways. Some will let me just find my way, do what I want, how I want. Then there are those who want to face fuck me, gag me, make me cry, drool, almost vomit on their meat. And all those in between. My personal taste is a mix, I like to do what I want, but I also like you to take part. Maybe your hands locked in my hair guiding each swallow, or slow thrusting into my mouth bring me close to gagging–a slow mouth fuck I like. Kneeling below you looking up. Glasses on or off? Do you like it when I fill my mouth with you balls? I like the way your balls change from heavy to tight with my lip service. I like it when you can no longer control the lust and rise up and start thrusting into my parted lips, making them conform to your shape, filling me.

Once I have you nice and wet, coated in my saliva–hard as rock, bouncing and throbbing, my hand gripping tight–sometimes I’m amazed at how tight my grip is around your solidity–then, I like to feel your cock on me, on my face, cheeks, under my chin, my tits, back in my mouth, all over my face. There is something about that smell of spit, cock, want, and precum that makes me acts like a crazy cock worshiper–rubbing your wet cock on all parts of  me, making me wet and hungry for more. The want almost make me want to cry, your cock almost makes me want to cry and I can never get enough.

I like to take my time to you make cum with my mouth. I think  I enjoy making you cum with my lips more than any other way. This is why when I could not make my Chicago guy cum with just a blow job I became quite troubled. This has never happened, I am still shocked. He said only one woman has ever been able to make him cum with a blow job. I have tried every time I’ve been with him, but nothing, lots of precum and dripping, rock fucking hard cock, he is choker–like to make me gag, likes me to hang my head over the side of the bed for a proper face fucking–but no cumming. Dammit! I tried to get him to find that woman on facebook so I could know what it is she did that made him cum, it drove my crazy, it still is. I am not sure I could be with a man for the long haul that I could not make cum with my mouth.

My worship must conclude in hot white. I want to know the fruits of my labor.

Can you believe I have never had any web cam action before?

Before this weekend–that is.

It had been several days since I had come, the days have been a bit hectic and I’ve not had the time I usually like to stroke the kitty. So– I was pent up, backed up. My theory on women, they can go either way. If they do not keep the frisky flowing it can disappear, and many women will be okay with that, some might not even notice. Some are okay with letting their lust lay dormant. Frisky takes work. Many of my women friends have reached that phase of no longer having or wanting sex, and there is quite a few of them. They no longer put the effort into this aspect of life. It has lapsed and they do not seem to mind.

I empathize with the notion of  “not being in the mood.” Being in the mood takes some work. For me I constantly try to maintain a thought of sex, of fucking, of cock, of cute girls in tall boots, of sweet hard dick passing across my lips….

While maybe many women think in this manner, they still do not perform the act anymore. Perhaps it is an age thing, I hope not–because I still hope to have many years of sex left. Mostly I think there is a defeat, a loss of interest– dui’s, work,  kids, the same man day in day out, or if single–like me, just that constant search for a true fuck, and just being with yourself takes work, but then adding in the factors of life–sex can so easily disappear. I know this, but I also know that if you start to play, let your mind open, your pussy is sure flow and follow. Basically what I am saying is– I had not come in three days, and that is not acceptable for a little cum slut like me.

I have been flirting with him for awhile, we discussed the idea of the mutuality of web cam fun, but really, you may not know this about me–but I’m quite shy. So, while I liked the idea, I simultaneously had excusing circling around my head. The absolute live-ness of it sort of freaked me out. There is no photo magic to hide behind, no edits I can make, no sound bites I cut, it is just me and he on the screen.  It has turn-offs, equally as it has turn-ons, but I love technology (when it is not fucking with me that is), it has done wonders for porn and sexuality, or maybe not, but fuck it–I love it anyway.

My camera goes on.

“can you see my toes?”  still in their Valentine red.

“yes”

Big smile.

I push back with my feet that are propped on the desk, the view of my legs and thighs spans the screen. My knees slightly bent. I know I am wet already before I even begin to run my fingers through my silk.

Your cock, that has been in state of tease is now pointing at me, being stroked for me. I like that. The impersonality of machine to machine becomes personal. Momentarily at least, just like everything. Moments are just that, moments, it is on us to take them.

His words begin to flow, odes of beautiful filth just like I like. I taste myself and report back on the sweetness I suspected.

“I taste good, you should be between my legs.”

Innuendo has gone. It is me my legs spreading for your view. Your cock being stroked. Your so hard, throbbing, shades of red. Ready. You could come anytime.

But you want to watch me come don’t you?

It does not take long for me. The moment I slide my wand in, I feel the flow surround my fingers. I get so wet, so quick, it has been days, I am ready, to be fucked.  The first one comes quick.

“oh that felt so good, I want to come again.”

“I want you to come again, you naughty slut.”

You may not be able to see it from the camera on your screen, but your words make me smile and drip at the same time. There is something about being called a slut, that turns me on. It is like my duality being uttered into the world and I like it, accept it, own it.

I am a slut, fucking you online on our web cam. Coming and dripping all over myself. While one watches the other.

It symbiotic.

Even when flesh to flesh, I like to watch you stroke, I like you to watch me, the way I react to my own body as your eyes take me in.

I come again for the third time, hard, I bring the wand to my lips and taste myself off. Sweeter than when I started. Sliding the wand in and out of  my mouth, lips caressing, longing for it to be your cock, watching you from slit closed eyes, as you long for it to be your cock. You stroke.

“I want you come. I wanna come at the same time.”

“You just tell when you are ready naughty girl.”

I love coming at the same time, which actually may be easier to do online. It’s  a great electric charge. I thoroughly enjoy that fourth come. It sends me over the edge, exhausts me, needles flying out of my brain plunging into my skull then exploding into a pleasure release unlike the three before. Release from all access point.

Plunging and slow grinding that curve of the wand into my spot, dripping all around.

“come for me, come for me…”

Messy girl in a pool of her own cum, messy boy in a splatter of his own. Separated and together.

Is it possible in nearly 25 years of sexual activity that a man has never asked me what I like, what I want? The question took me by surprise.

Men have for the most part taken what they wanted and given what they thought I wanted. Of course by now I finally tell them what I want, guide and suggest with a moan and groan, or a right there, right there, or–you know–by just pulling their head between my legs. But those who have actually asked are rare, so rare I cannot even recall any.

“what do you like?”
What do I like?
I like the way you made me feel free. Free to make you do what I wanted, how I wanted, free to keep your face buried in my pussy for the entire night.

Your place is small like a cocoon, comfortable, warm, too warm. You shed my clothing, the sweater, the blouse. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you kneel between my thighs and begin removing my boots, my socks, my stockings. My toes hit the air and your hand grabs around  my feet and begin massaging these over worked librarian tootsies. I feel my body melt into the bedding, as I recline back and allow you to begin the pleasuring of me. The opening of a closed book, my pages being read.

I asked for it, and now it is realized, it is all about me. Your pleasuring of me. Quickly this sense of complete liberation comes over me. I can do and be anyway I want. That you as the submissive little slut you are will love anything I do. It sets me on fire, it allows me to do things I would never do, things I have never done.

“Unbutton my skirt.”
The snaps come undone, the skirt drops to the floor. Below me is you, I stand above you looking down. My inverted V legs straddled over your face, as your body gravitates, I wrap my hand around the back of your head pulling your mouth into my pussy. Holding your there, the heat of your breath penetrates the fabric of my leggings, inflating my pussy and ego at the same time.

I let your head drop.
“you can take my pants off now.”
Peeling them down, I sit on the edge of the bed as you strip them from my skin. Your hands running the length of my legs, I roll over and spread across you bed, belly down, ass up.

“Unhook my bra.”
Fully exposed, normally I would feel flashes of vulnerability about this time, but I don’t. I feel sexual, I feel sexy.
“I need a massage”

Relaxation drifts into want, to gratification. Rubbing, your hand drifts to my ass, that junction between my thighs.
“Am I wet?”
Your finger infiltrates, you say
“a little.”

“check again.”
with more force you finger slides in, passes that first puffy layer, and hits wetness.
your sigh give me my answer.

Your face, finds my ass, buries, licks, roots.
The fun begins, you eat me like a starving man.

I cum. I cum, and I cum. These small cums a series of small orgasms, spasms, brought to the brink of crossing that edge, that point where all rational flies out the room. I purposefully stop myself each time. I want to save that big one.

During lick breaks we talk, I question you. I love to question men. Their motives, how they acquired those motives. I learn more, mind and body. You ask me to spit in you mouth. I am beyond turned on. In the dimly lit cocoon, the music thumps sensual, the saliva  languidly falls from my lips. The silver strand stretches and drops into yours, hitting your lips and tongue. Our eyes are locked, I feel absurdly drawn to you. I feel like I want to you to taste, to consume every part of me.

We rolled all over your little space, drinking, feeling, your lips and tongue devouring every inch.

Somehow I ended up on top of you, my ass and pussy burying  as you eat and drink every bit of me. Reaching  over to my purse by the side of the bed, pulling  out my njoy wand. I begin fucking myself, the wand hitting that spot, that spot that makes me see stars and hear nothing. You continue to lick at my pussy and then at my ass.  I know I am going to cum hard. After prolonging it so many times, it will be immense, I feel it.

“Are you ready? are you ready for me to cum, are you?”
I don’t think you were really ready, I don’t think I was really ready.

It was a like a catharsis, and expulsion of emotion and liquid. A canopy of fluid covers your face, I could hear you lapping me up. My body writhing on top of you, my thighs shaking and my mind whirling. The towels we laid down were useless.

I need to taste me on you. We kiss, lick.

Sleep.

Repeat.

I have heard descriptions of how men cum, and  I know how it seems to me and what I have been told about all that glorious hot white lava flow I love so much.

“like a thousand shimmering points of light speeding toward one destination.”

“twists my thoughts. My rational mind drifts away, and I briefly imagine sparks resulting from the friction between us—they turn into a parade of stars that march up my spine. Once they reach my head they take turns stabbing at at the pleasure centers of my brain.”

“white noise followed by rush then static”

These descriptions are close to what I feel too, particularly if it is one of those straightforward sturdy cums, where I am riding your solid cock, bouncing, riding up reaching the tip–then back down filling you back into me while I manipulate my clit to that point, where I am going to come. Sometimes I can get vocal, grunting and growling…
“oh oh I’m going to cum, I’m gonna cum.”
pleading with myself and your cock.
“oh insert your name here, and again here. oh oh yeah.”
I might curse at you, sometime I have a foul mouth.
“fuck you, oh fuck you. you feel so fucking good. damn you.”

There is a strong build up in the brain, the same white noise fills my head I can no longer focus, my pussy opens wide and then I come and I can come again from this same position and usually do. This is my standard, me riding and cumming on top of you, it is fail safe, It works and works well and I can keep it up as long as you can. I especially like riding it out, not letting myself come down, but to just continue through until the next wave of orgasm. By the fourth one the cum comes painfully, like my head is about to explode, but when that release does hit, it is all consuming and body collapsing, cock squeezing, and pussy pulsating.

Ah…but it is those cums that you give me that almost scare me, sometime I have even protested.
“no please, no I’m not ready, no no”
All the while my lips and words say no, but my body–as always– betrays my mind, my hips raise up meeting your fingers.

It is the kind cum that almost make me afraid, I become that woman so rarely there, the one that will have no choice but to let go under your hand. I fear how much I might cum, or what I might say, or that I might even shed a tear of fuck me pleasure. My limber thighs drop, spread open wide…my lips to pass that sigh of Oh fuck yeah. That fear, anxiety subsides to the need. My hands dropping on to the back of your head, wanting you to stay there until I flow, until the fear passes. My palms to thighs, trying to spread myself open to get even more you in, which is not possible, but I try anyway, my ass lifting to greet each lap. When those two fingers enter into my pussy, not aggressive, but searching. Searching for that spot, that spot that makes me fall in love with you, if only for that moment. You slowly pull it out of me from the inside out.

The fear of cover you in my gloss runs through my mind, I cum a lot. When you hit that spot–my body turns electric from the core out–nothing is my own anymore, every part of me would be yours to do with as you please. My cries out would be yours, my wet aching folds of puffy flesh– yours. That look in my eyes, not mine, some other person filled with that electricity–would be yours. The cum dripping down my thighs and onto your fingers, in your palm, tongue, mouth…all yours. Only when you enter me and cover yourself with all that wet and feed it back to me would it become mine again, only after I taste it off your cock.

Did you have one of those nights where you have sex in so many different ways, varieties, flavors, positions, messy messes, bent, twisted, restrained, soaked—that it just seems unreal, like a true living work of fiction?

You dropped me an email trying to sway me to come over. I tell you that I am at the tail end of my period.

“I love it when a woman is on her period, I don’t mind if I pull out a red hand or dick, plus the inside of your pussy is more luscious.”

Okay, well not a first, but still shocking and fucking hot. But what really swayed my decision was the second,crude but charming, email

“BTW, totally bad non-sequitur, I forgot to tell you that you have a cute butthole. Amongst other cute things.”

How can girl resist?

Approaching your hotel like atrium, you buzz me up. The place is quite and refined. I feel like an escort. I like that. The door is open, I knock a little and walk in. You meet me and we lock in passion tight kiss, you take my coat and ask me if I’ve been thinking about your cock. I nod, saying “my pussy has been thinking about your cock.” Setting my purse down on the side table you bend me over and yank my skirt up. This time I surprise you with nothing. A bare ass and garter straps. “You naughty little cunt.” Pushing me over the table you bestow a rapid series of firm swats not only to my ass, but also to my exposed fleshy lips as well. It stings and I was not really anticipating such firmness from you, but it feels great, it causes me to buckle and lower to the ground and face your cock. “I didn’t say you could have this cock yet.” Stunned. It is not often a man turns down my lips around their cock.

You lay a towel onto your couch and tell me to lay down. I do as you wish, besides it looks as though it could be beneficial for me to do so. Striding over with your cock pointing right at me, my eager lips cannot help themselves, but to wrap around you. You let me, then your hand reaches between my legs. Fingers unfold my folds. With your cock pushing between my lips, your fingers begin to spread me open, you read each layer, separating the creases, palpitating at my plumpness.

There is a move in yoga called the awkward pose. This is the sexual equivalent; climbing on top of me you balance on your hands and feet, your mouth facing my pussy. From this angle your cock is sort of lodged in my mouth. I feel your warm tongue spread across me, it sets my cunt ablaze, I flux from moist to wet. You lap up every part. I wonder to myself, is his tongue going to pull out red. I swallow with effort as your cock is still blocking my throat. I just remain still with your dick filling me not that I could do anything else, it is the awkward pose, so I let it stay at rest, hard, inside the warmth of my mouth, while you drink from my pussy.

You climb off and out, and then initiate pussy devotion.

Letting my mind go, I let my pussy be at your mercy. Pushing deeper, penetrating with fingers, reaching the insulation inside, studying what makes me pant, what makes me whimper, gasp, and moan. What makes me flood. I do not hold on, I relinquish. Rare. My mind and cunt open. Your fucking me with a compelling force that makes my inside confirm my decision in being here. “You are so wet, you little slut. Do you like the way this feels?” I can only groan my agreement of the pleasure I am receiving. Everything feels so right and wet I do not even realize you have pushed a finger into my tightest space. I just feel filled and fucked.

I got a text message yesterday from the man in this particular tale of tail, which was temporarily lost in my technological fuck-ups.  I am not even sure when this was first posted, not too long ago, before Halloween, but after summer. He was seeking a little recount of our story, maybe to go along with the series of insanely hot fuck pictures we took. I have not found too many willing participants to snap the relentless amount of photos it takes to get a nice set of sultry sex images. He was more than willing and even took most of the shots. Since then, I have often gone back to look at these, they are so good, beautiful hard glistening cock in my mouth, me in full on worship, my red curls matted and wild–stuck to my face from sweat and spit. Oh, and then there is that nice shot of me riding, straddling him from behind just as his dick is sliding into me, my star bud shining and my pussy so full.  Grrrrr…..I need more.

Chase

Being single, not dating any one particular  individual has it perks and it’s downfalls of course.

The biggest and the one I miss most often, is waking up next to someone. And I don’t need it often, but I realized last night  I do need it sometimes.

This man, I tease, tell him he makes me chase him, which he sort of does, and I am not into chasing cock for too long. If you want me let me know and I will be right over, if you don’t–I keep on walking. However; this one I kept in memory. His cock is too good to take away from the recall section of my brain. We only had sex once before but his sex and really,  his… I don’t know, sounds silly, but his core, his verve, his attitude–stuck with me. I chased a few times–gave up, chased a few more–gave up, but yesterday I caught up with him and his solid core.

I text messaged him with poetic longings of desire burning in the folds of pussy, details of how hungry my slutty little mouth was for his cock.  His response was favorable, quick and on.

He likes to meet late,  I like to meet late. Sexual rendezvous.

Getting there, it’s dark,  we don’t even make it out of the door way,  feeling the others body. His–a tall, thin frame, with a wild tuft of hair I adore, and a new beard. Warm hugs, wet kissing, purse flung to the floor, skirt hiked, shirts torn off, belt buckle undone–the learning of the bodies. He has this spot on his abs just above his cock that drive me insane.

Before long his fingers are filling me,  already I am dripping with girl gloss beneath his touch.  My mouth wants more, I drop to a squat in my tall black boots,-still in the dark–still in the door way,  I eagerly devour and worship at his thick branch, making it  a solid tree trunk. Choking it all in, holding back my gags, he taste so good. Pulling out you rub your dick all over my face and it makes feel dirty and innocent simultaneously. Your cock rubbing all over me, lips, eyes, chin and cheeks covered  in saliva soaked shaft. I suck more, trying to get my eternal fill, like it is a possibility– I try to apprehend each time, but never succeed at. To savor your flavor for that memory recall, to make me know why I perused your cock.

We fuck standing in the door way, awkwardly, then your shove me over the arm of a overstuffed chair–hitting, filling me–I moan and yelp in that mix of pain and pleasure. My pages dripping down my thighs. We fuck and we fuck.

Moving me to the mattress, it’s your turn. You eat, devour and worship at my fountain. Your fingers fucking me as you eat, drink and swallow me down. I hold back a bit, I want to cum like rain, but I refrain. Shyness, fear…I don’t know. I cum in a mild sprinkle and it feels fantastic. We dance, mingle, fuck, eat and switch and do it again. His cock is tired, we are tired.  I have turned soft and sweet, I run my hands through his wild tuft and we drift into sleep.

Hours go by, my pussy wakes me up for more. Stroking his beam under the cover, his cock wakes up long before him, my greedy mouth lowers herself to taste– to bring him fully to where I want. His hard on made solid by my mouth, he wakes as I suck.  His moans and words of approval like delicious filth to my ears. I continue until the urge to ride that cock hits me, then fills me. My curvy frame atop his thin one, his cock filling every bit, hitting the back wall. He grabs my flesh,  my ass, my waist, my thighs–he handles my body and I love that. Only moments pass and I am cumming, animal grunting—announcing my arrival, grinding him into the mattress and cumming around his shaft.

This goes on, a back and forth, my riding then off to taste my pussy on his cock, fucking him with my mouth and then my pussy and then back again. My lips working, my hands working up his velvet silo, his fingers in me, I cum again dripping down his hand to wrist. He tells me so.

I ride again, cum again, fuck him with  my mouth again. His cock begins to twitch and jump.

“That’s it! time for me to fuck you, fuck that pussy.”

Getting on all fours I raise my ass up in approval and he drives his dick into me. Pounding. Dicked down. He is ready his cock long and hard is ready.

“You want  me to cum in that pussy? You want me fill you up with this hot cum.”

My mind is spinning…

“No! Fuck Yes!  yes yes, NO!”

He pulls out cumming on my ass, the small of my back and his hand–between his fingers. I turn for taste, which is so good I lick all the cum I can from his hand and his cock.

When you make me cum that way, I fight it. You tell me to let it go, but I keep fighting.
I don’t like coming that way. It makes me too vulnerable, so I hold it in. It’s not yours, it’s not even mine. I have this notion I am saving it for someone, for the next man I love, for that man who turns my world inside out, who makes me want to go on a crime spree. You know that man who I want to stay up all night with drinking scotch, smoking cigarettes–even though I quit–drawing nude pictures of me sprawled on my couch–then switching, taking my turn–in between romantic passionate raw fuck romps, that’s the man– I want him to make me cum like this.

Oh, but you. You had to go and do it, you had to take it from me because I was unwilling to let it go. You had to draw it out, pull it out. Your fingers deeply buried, C shape hitting my G shape, that ache, that quiver. My body in a pained numbing, but full of come sexual energy. When you hit me there it instantly feels as though I may soak. I tell you no, tell you to stop, I beg, beg and beg. My hips raising off the fuck sweat soaked, sex smeared mattress. More than raise, they lift my lower body attempts to consume you, I am balancing on my shoulders and neck, begging you to stop. Tears begin to stream down my face as I feel the orgasm begin to build being pulled, extracted from my inside. My mind strains to bring it back in, your fingers keep working, and though my mind is working one way in opposition, my body still arches to meet yours. The pressure you hit, that sweet spot that few men hit, I can’t see–everything has become static and tears.

I come in a wild bucking explosion, and let loose with a full on cry. I am crying, I never let anyone see me cry. My eyes and pussy are equally wet, my cunt controls. I come so hard my body is a tingling mass of flesh, my thighs spasm out of control, my pussy jerks hard from the core out.  This is not my body. I am exhausted from my fight, I sleep. I sleep and I sleep. When I wake up you have been gone for hours,  I realize over six hours has passed and part of me is gone, just like you are.