Smashed under the weight of his lower body, his arms propped and locked out, as his dick pounds into me. My legs outstretched and above my head being held down, spread apart in opposite directions, my thighs held wide open by his body. Wide. My mouth is gaping open in the gratification of being fucked. We are focused, we are eye to eye. He is hitting me deep in my soaking crevice from this angle. The sound of sloshing and of body parts slapping together fill the air. My legs are sore from being stretched apart for the last half hour, my pussy wide from him plowing into it. His cock disappearing and reappearing, slick and slimy.
Materializing out of nowhere, I see a glob of his spit purposefully drop heavy from his mouth and lips, white, clear, glimmering like a strand of eclectically charged silver. The glob lands directly into my mouth and the bead of saliva following cascades across my face.
In my mind I am thinking–am I supposed to feel humiliated? But in my bodies mind the act was an incredible salacious exchange of fluids. It tasted strange—sweet and hot. I let the glob rest on my tongue and then I swallowed it down. Nothing was ever said of the incident, we continued fucking his dick still sliding around in pussy my leg spread in their unnatural direction and loving it.
A hot afternoon in Miami, an old deco hotel near South Beach…after a day of watching luscious people stroll by, we went back to the room and turned off the AC, just for the hell of it, opened the windows…I get hard just reminiscing about the sheeting sweat, the scents and tastes and slish that emerged from both of us, until that bed was as drenched as a slip-and-slide. The fucking became effortless, we were both lightheaded and high by the end of it, and a cold shower together was just a capper. Intimacy of fluids, indeed.
Room staff may or not have been amused.
I’m curious why one would ponder “am I supposed to feel humiliated”. While in the throws of such passion, entwined in such a mutual lust, it seems to me such an act is pure erotic expression. It is a sharing of ones body in every way the carnal mind can express it. Heighten sexual pleasure arrives when the lines, the barriers between one body and the next become unclear. There are few boundaries at such a time. Fluids are an incredible way to touch another. There is pleasure in allowing fluids to leave our bodies, and there can be pleasure in receiving fluids from another, on one’s skin, in the mouth, deep within us.
We have noticed that spitting in many forms has become a much more common aspect of porn today–especially in the context of rough sex, but not limited to that.
Seems a bit like the tradition of gobbing in the early days of punk rock!
Greyrake: hi love, ohhh sounds so good. I love hotel sex just for that reason. messy as ya wanna be. Thanks sweets for the read.
soomuchwork: thanks for the thoughtful comment. I actually pondered this same portion of this, while it was happening and again while I wrote about it. While the sex was very hot, still my brain never stops working even when getting plowed. It would have to be out of this world fucking to have mind shut off. We fucked good, this man and I, perhaps it was not exactly as you state deep in the “throws of passion.”
John and Ann: ya know, funny you mention it. When I attended the “darkness falls” event(in the dark sex party), while I had this fine cock in my mouth a woman (his woman) was behind me working my pussy, she was rough, like a man, assaulting almost, as she rubbed and rubbed me–all of sudden I hear her spit right on my pussy, I was a little shocked, taken aback, but fuck it…I am in the dark it really did not matter. and it did feel rather porn like.