I didn’t expect him to answer his phone when I called. We hadn’t talked in three or four months. I didn’t bother to leave a message when it went to his voice mail.
But I was surprised to get a text from him a few minutes later. We texted for hours and I met him at his place at midnight. We talked, fucked on the couch and then went to bed together.
But we didn’t go to sleep.
Woodynyou wrote a post a few months back detailing his love of morning sex. It reminded me of all the things I hate about morning sex-smelly unwashed bodies, morning breath and my undying love for cigarettes and coffee asap.
The problem with hating morning sex is that I love morning wood. Waking up to a hard cock resting in my ass cheeks always makes me smile.
…you’re not watching me masturbate? I lied. (Well, you’re not, but someone else did.)
The lights are dim and we’re laying on our sides watching tv. His naked body is pressed up against my backside, hands running over my mostly naked body. His mouth, teeth and tongue start at my neck and work their way down my back.
Lower. View full article »
My favorite position, in general, is anything from the back. I think that could be linked to my anal fetish.
The primal feel of it. I want him to look at my ass while his cock is busy sliding in and out of me.
I want him to want my ass. But I don’t know if I’ll let him have it… View full article »
Maybe it is the fact that he doesn’t ask, I just did what I wanted to do. It didn’t feel like a chore this time, something I was obligated to do. I shouldn’t have to feel obligated to do anything during sex.
Just relax and enjoy.
I love going out to the club, dancing and drinking with The Arab. The intensity builds all night as we get drunker and friskier within public view. Him slapping my ass, me backing up a step as we wait for drinks at the bar, grinding my ass against his hard cock. My lips grazing his neck, his hands finding their way under my skirt, slipping into the place he knows his cock will be later.
When we get ready to leave we know what fun awaits us in the car for the ride home.
I woke up early this morning even though I told The Arab last night that I could probably sleep forever. I don’t know why I couldn’t sleep, probably a combination of too much thinking, bad dreams that kept waking me, the fact that sleeping next to him is like sleeping next to a furnace and that I kept just wanting to look at his face. I hadn’t seen his face in about a month. I am always afraid that I will never see it again.
He had told me before we fell asleep that he needed to be up by 10. So I laid there and watched the clock, feeling his arms around me and the way he had drawn my leg through his. I didn’t want 10am to come.
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