The Terminator

The Terminator

“I’ve been dying to do this,” he says, sliding his head down between my legs and diving into my pussy. His mouth is soft as he pushes his face and then his tongue deep into me, tasting me, touring me, reveling in me. His tongue makes insistent, indecent flicks at my clit. Ooohhh my. The intensity subsides into creamy pleasure, making me push myself into him, humping his tongue, his face, chasing that intense, insistent caress, riding it until I’m grunting, moaning, shoving my hips into his face, exploding in ecstasy

I have known him barely half an hour.

Later. We’ve been fucking non-stop I don’t know how long. I’ve come explosively, then helplessly and quietly from his delicious and constant pounding of me from all different directions. He wields a ten-inch (at least) baton that curves to hit the G-spot and he knows how to use it. The man is blessed. He also has endurance of biblical proportions. Every time he flips me over or rotates me I ask him if he’s done and he smiles and says no.
A machine (Thank you, God).  Eventually my ass is in the air, my face in the pillows, and I’m bracing myself against his pounding onslaught. This is my favorite position, and T (for Terminator) is soooo good I’m almost crying. At some point I’m flat on the bed again between face down and on my side, and he stays deep inside, holding me close. He shoves himself deeper into me (oh, yeah) and then just pumps it. Thrusts. Hard. Oh. My. God.  I (by “I” I mean my pussy) just closed around him like a juicy vise and I just writhed against his massive cock until I came like a freight train. Happy Thursday to me.

He was still hard.  I asked him to give me a break, and he said, “yeah my endurance is a problem,” all chagrined, and I’m like, please.

So we talk. “What exactly do you eat?” I asked him, looking for the source of his stamina (Viagra didn’t occur to me until later). He laughed and said he eats a lot of vegetables. We chatted, he played with my hair, we made out. Then we did it all again and ended with a marathon missionary that got super-intense. As I thrust up to meet T’s thrusts, I closed my eyes and turned away because meeting his gaze was too much.   It was sooo good the whole thing strained credulity. Imagine that. I was living it and even to me this whole “episode” seemed too good to be true.

Something funny happened. The intensity and connection between us was unreal. I thought to myself that it was like falling in love, but I know better, of course. It was just very intense. Between bouts, at one point we’re just staring at each other and I have to look away because it was too much.  But he won’t drop it.

“What are you feeling right now?” he asks, as I stare out the window.

“Happy.” I say. This is true but not the whole truth.

The the radio starts playing “I Love You,” an old R&B duet that almost makes me laugh out loud. Terminator is watching me closely and I’m trying to not talk about the emotion in the room. We just met, this can’t be what it feels like. It’s ridiculous. I keep it together and then my phone starts ringing. My ringtone is Now that We Found Love, by Third World. I jump up and shut my ringer off. Enough with this love crap, please, I pray silently. And the fucking continued…

Barely 15 minutes after my last (extremely frustrated) post, I received a text from a very cute very horny guy in Brooklyn. I had responded to his ad looking for a casual hookup a few days ago on craigslist (crazy I know, but I was sooo horny).  He liked my pictures (fully dressed, nothing nasty) and got back to me and we made arrangements to meet. As I traveled to meet him, I texted his name and address to a good friend of mine in case of an emergency (like if I disappeared without a trace). I was so horny that the real danger of the situation didn’t occur to me until later.  This is why I need regular sex. So I don’t lose my mind and do shit like this. It must be a combination of mid-life hormones and the roaring comeback from celibacy.
Despite the fact that my Catholicism lies in tatters, I will light a candle to thank whatever guardian angel was watching over me yesterday.

As for the Terminator, I will never look at nice nerdy guys the same way again. I wouldn’t have looked twice at this guy — very unassuming and slim athletic build. Who knew the depths/heights of sexual prowess T is hiding? He’s totally the IT guy in your office.  Will I see him again? Obviously I want to, but its up to him. I’m not sure what journey he’s on with the whole craigslist thing, our meet was for a casual hook up and I don’t want to complicate things. He is very definitely the best lover I’ve ever had by far. I know we have spectacular sexual chemistry so we’ll see. I would love a FWB situation with him (that’s Friends With Benefits for the clueless out there).
There is no sleep like the sleep of the thoroughly fucked. No, not the post O coma that is so restorative, but the sleep that overtakes you after you’ve spent hours being tended to by a man with the equipment and the know-how to turn you to jelly. Nite-nite.
Image: I Surrender by Kevin WAK Williams via BlackArtDepot.com. Prints available for purchase.

3 Comments

  • Ms. Behaves

    April 10, 2012 at 6:29 pm

    Thank you and please see round two in Terminator II 😉

  • Anonymous

    April 10, 2012 at 3:04 am

    Dayum!! Girl, uhm uhm uhm. Luv-lee. ….Slow Clap.

  • Anonymous

    March 14, 2012 at 7:53 pm

    Uhmm may i say EXCITING ?

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