But our clothes stay on, and we have a hot make-out session, like a couple of horny teenagers. He loves to make out, and before long we we’re writhing on the bed, panting, kissing, biting, dry humping. He holds me close, drinking me in with his hands, his lips traveling from my mouth to my neck, my ears, my tits, igniting a trail of blazing trail of heat which I had no intention of resisting. I was like a bitch in heat, humping against him, biting him and licking him. He growl-like moans in my ear, make me even hotter for him.
I don’t remember how or when our clothes came off, but when we were naked he dove head first into my pussy like he belonged there. Soft. so soft, yet so insistent, his tongue alternately hard and aggressive, then soft and caressing, guiding me through waves of pleasure so mindless I lost my senses, aware only of his mouth and my pussy. He stopped only to turn me over and continue the sweet assault, which was even better, if possible.
So began a day-long encounter (7 hours) that finally satisfied (for the moment) our hunger for each other. The last time I spent all day in bed with a guy George Bush was President (you know, dickhead’s father). I recommend it. I recommend it highly. Everyone should devote one day a week to having sex, it would make the world a better place. Peace would break out everywhere. Monday, Tuesday, Sexday…
The Terminator and I are a perfect match in stamina and appetite, but even so, the pleasure our bodies give and take from each other still stuns us. Several times when we pulled apart, breathless and sweaty, we would break into incredulous laughter.
Part of what made this time so much hotter was that I was more comfortable with him, not as guarded, and let myself go more in every way. I encouraged him to go harder, faster (or slower), wilder, etc., because I knew he was holding back last time.
Soon he had me on all fours, he was smacking my ass and pulling my hair, and I was almost sobbing with the pleasure of the onslaught, when he lowered me onto my side and entered me again from behind – delicious – pumping me senseless. I tend to close my eyes during the intensity of a great fuck, but something made me open them and he was pulling my hair out of the way so he could see my face. He leaned in and kissed the side of my face. So Sweet.
Although he likes to dominate the action and I prefer it, I loved that I finally got to ride him, and take him and abuse him too. Every time time he would try to speed it up, I would stop. No amount of begging would move me until I felt like moving. Then I would tighten around him and rotate my hips in a slooooow circle and then start riding him again, driving us both to the brink — and stopping again. I did this a few times until he couldn’t take it anymore and threw me on my back and fucked me so hard we almost fell off the bed.
When we took a break about three hours in, I thought of leaving. I said I was going to leave, but he took me in his arms and held me, kissed me, and we started talking. Before I knew it we were curled up under the covers, his arm around me and he was telling me his life story. Two things he hammered home, his unwillingness to cheat (“If I’m in a relationship, I will leave you before i cheat on you”), his devotion to his family (Parents, sibling, and extended family), and that he overcame a difficult chldhood.
I was fascinated by the story but as he was telling it to me I’m thinking: “Why is he trying to build intimacy with me? Why does he care If I know whether he cheats or not?” This isn’t the behavior of a Craigslist hookup. Am I glad he’s trying to connect more than bodies? Yes and no. Of course I want him to be into me, but I don’t want to get emotionally involved. This is a guy who must have women lining up to fuck him. I don’t want drama, I just want fun.
“I’m sorry, did I delay you?” he asked after we had been talking an hour or more. He didn’t look sorry in the least.
“No, don’t worry about it.” I said. We kissed. Suddenly his tool was prodding my thigh. “Sorry, it gets hard on contact,” he said.
“That’s a blessing, baby,” I said.
And then we started fucking again with a vengeance. As I said, I usually close my eyes because it helps me focus on the sensations, but I felt his eyes on me, and when I open mine, he is right there, in my face. It seems odd to put it like that since we were having sex. His eyes never left my face, intent on my reactions but also, I sense, trying to connect. He was going so deep and so delicious, I didn’t ever want him to stop. “God, I love the way you fuck me,” I said. “Not as much as I love fucking you,” he said.
I left his bed near dusk. Condom wrappers littered the floor like confetti…