“My mouth is sore from you fucking it,” I said, as we cuddled after sex. I said it more like a purr, full of feelings.
He visited me in the bedroom. I wasn’t on my phone, reading, crafting, or writing. I was just lying there, thinking about sex. He stood by the side of the bed, while I lay there, wanting him.
“Will you take off your clothes and have some date energy with me?” I asked.
“Yeah!” he said. So he came to me naked, and I asked him to climb onto the bed and put his dick in my face.
I was propped up on pillows, and he was kneeling on the bed, one hand on the wall behind me. I grabbed his soft balls and felt them lovingly in my hand, over and over. “You’re so beautiful,” I said. Then I licked his erection.
“Is the frenulum most sensitive, for you?” I asked. “I read this article about blowjobs. It was for the blog–oh yeah, I was looking for an outgoing link, for that post where your leg was shaking.”
I gently touched his frenulum. “I always thought just the ridge in general, was most sensitive,” I said, gently touching the ridge with one finger, all the way around.
“Not sure,” he said.
It didn’t matter. I took his dick into my mouth, all the way, and he was really horny. He seemed to like it more than usual.
“You’re so aroused today. Why are you hornier than usual?” I asked.
“Because I love you,” he said.
“Yeah, but you love me every day,” I said. “I want to find out why more today, and replicate it.”
He wasn’t telling. “Did you think about me extra?”
“I always think about you,” he said.
Poor sweetheart. That’s fine. Even at the best of times, he doesn’t know why something happened. He can think of explanations that sound plausible. But reality? Who knows.
Communication is a challenge, even at the best of times. Let alone when he has an erection and wants me to suck on it more.
He put his hand on the back of my head and thrust his dick deeper into my mouth. It was a bit forward, which I enjoyed.
“Can you hold onto my head tighter?” I asked, when he gave me a break.
I was horny too, as he fucked my mouth. Wondering why he was more aroused, I started imagining his fantasy life. My fantasies about his fantasies were hot enough to make me squirm with hot feelings.
I asked him to call me by my real name. It was a desire to be respected in a particular, formal way. He was happy to oblige and chanted my name, as he used my mouth, sliding his dick in and out.
As he fucked my mouth, I felt close to him. I loved him more than anything in the world. I was ecstatic, to collaborate with him, co-creating his pleasure and release. So glad he chooses me–we still like each other. It’s an honor, he comes to me with his needs, to plant his seeds in my body, and love me with sex, in addition to all the other ways he loves me, every day.
Love is really hot. He called me by my real name, held my head down on his dick, stopped thrusting, and made a sound. Then he was ejaculating. Most of the semen was pumping down my throat, but some spurted into the back of my mouth. It tasted saltier than usual.
I gagged a little, with slightly panicked feelings. I started to dissociate, then pulled myself back, staying in my body. Then I relaxed and enjoyed his gaspy, jagged breath, and the vividness of his throbbing erection, as the intensity of that hard orgasm eased. I enjoyed his hand on my head–I enjoyed accepting everything he gave to me.
The day before, we’d had sex, and I didn’t come. He did! Then I’d asked him to rub his chest on my cunt. I wanted to come on his sternum–I’ve never done that before. We tried a few different ways, and I was overjoyed, by the pleasure of my wet vulva, close to his heart.
I learned about physics, during this chest humping. And physiology also.
But it was hot, and we’d been doing it for a long time. I began to masturbate and tried to come on my hand, but I was dehydrated and exhausted. My clitoris withered, like a wimpy flower! But I knew a new day would dawn.
This time, I anticipated–it would be easy to come. He held me and touched my nipples while I rubbed myself. I felt so tender toward him, and happy.
I was having a new fantasy, about my spouse and a lady we know. The fantasy is based on a dream I had, years back. I wanna tell you about it–the other lady he loves, purple tissue paper crumpled on the stairs.
And another newish fantasy about my spouse fucking someone I love–her cute feet, her toes curling as she comes for him, some transgression involved. That one has some detail to it that I want to write about, but I’m also scared to.
I thought of these fantasies as I masturbated, sometimes switching to another fantasy about the man I recently loved–I fantasied that he was masturbating, thinking of me. Yes, in his bed, his dick in his hand, eyes closed, wanting me, rubbing himself, imagining me rubbing myself, thinking about him rubbing himself.
Deep needs swirled inside me, and swirled also in this man I loved, in my imagination. The swirls could swirl together, if he ever wanted. But he never said those needs were mixed into his feelings.
“I’m gonna come,” I whispered my spouse. He was glad for me. “Kiss me,” I said.
I slowed down rubbing myself, and emotions welled up in me, as the pre-orgasm urgency came to a crescendo. My spouse held me as I came. My limbs thrashed and my head moved around. I tried to stay quiet. I thought I was going to cry, as something like grief of desire overwhelmed me, along with the pleasure feelings.
Grief, where did you come from? Please go back into the earth. I’m sorry I conjured you. That was all a dream. You can’t lose what you never had, body. He never loved you. You made all of that up. I’m sorry I let you do that. Next time I’ll try to do better, protecting you from a fuckton of time wasting nonsense because of feelings.
I tried to be where I was, with my true love, who actually chooses me, in our shared bed. My body was moving in ways I couldn’t control, as I came. My spouse is actually with me and treasures me. I will love him and ask him to fuck me, all of the days of my life.
But bodies can make weird choices Ain’t that the truth. All these feelings.
My mouth was a little sore, afterward, like I mentioned. But I would say anything, dazzle-dazed, close to my dear one, catching my breath, trying to cool down, in this heat wave.