Every Orgasm

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Amateur

I lay in the dark after another long day, I try to remove myself from all the shit that consumes my time. I focus on your hands, so much bigger than mine and strong. The room is black, but I can see your hands gripping me. My arms, my thighs, my tits. I see them as I have a thousand times before…they are almost red against the paleness of my skin. Seeing this in my mind, as real and as fresh as the first time you made me yours, I hear my breathing change.

Could there be an orgasm to end this relentless fucking day?

I weigh my options: roll over and dream of you fucking me (again) or fantasize about you fucking me while I massage my clit until I come.

The stress and the depression have been tightening up my back and my stomach and I swear to God…even my skull feels like it’s shrinking around my brain. Everything has been waiting for release. And I know, as I pull my shirt over my head and feel the cool air tease my nipples, that this will not be as good as the real thing.

But it will be pretty damn close.

I shut my eyes for a moment and dig into my mind: You are hard and pressed against my ass, I reach behind myself and land on your cock with the kind of familiarity that would make me teary eyed if I wasn’t so focused on getting off. I want it in my mouth more than ever, I move quickly and plunge as much as I can into my hot wetness. Your back arches barely and your leg jerks ever so slightly, I suck off your isveçbahis pre-cum like it’s the last drop of water in an endless desert. I want you to come in my mouth, I want to drink it and rub it into my skin all at the same time. But you pull me up and we are kissing.

Kissing you is like drowning in every known emotion and sensation on earth. It’s like dying and being reborn. It’s like a craving that can never go away. I drown in it and want you inside me with your tongue and your cock, I want to feel them both forcing me to be opened forever.

In reality, I am pulling on my nipples with slippery finger tips, and trying not to moan out of respect for my roommate. My other hand is teasing my opening…trying to trick my pussy into believing that you are doing this and not me.

You are harder than you were ten minutes before, and it makes my vision go blurry. I want every inch of that hot solidity to be inside me as deep and as strongly as possible.

Your hand wraps around my hair and jerks my head back, I gasp for you while you bite my neck. I wish you could break my skin without the consequences that breaking it would actually bring. I want the hurt and the pleasure to be the same -and they are.

Another wave of something indescribable takes me over as you get on top of me, your hard dick, the extension of love and passion that I need more than most other things in my life, teases my opening. Your green eyes are a flash isveçbahis giriş of eager focus right before you slide all the way into me and rest your chin on my shoulder.

Chills run up my spine and that same thing that happens when we really kiss happens to me again when you first go in me. I am aware of us both shuddering in system overload. I almost black out, but come back into the moment as you breathe hot against my ear, I moan because I cannot be silent.

Rubbing my clit, I remember all this…sex. Every second of every time. I pant like the poor neglected thing I am and feel myself getting so close…so soon.

We change positions and it’s: Act 1: Missionary Act 2: Girl on Top Act 3: Doggy Style It’s a system that we rarely stray from and it works and it never gets old, because it’s fucking great.

I think I always come in ‘girl on top’ because I can see you, and you can see me, and there’s a level vulnerability in that, that scares the hell of me and excites every nerve ending in my body.

Grinding into you, while you suck my nipples, or slap me on the ass, or grip my hips…we do what we do best: we fight each other for control until we find a steady, balanced rhythm. In the fantasy, I come like an avalanche, like a fucking waterfall, like some other naturally occurring wonder of God. And I fuck you as hard as I can, with the kind of commitment that I know, years from now you will never forget… no matter where isveçbahis yeni giriş or who we are then.

Now, I have a handful of sheets to my left and flick my fingers over my clit, pretending that it’s your tongue and that you are licking and drinking me like a man dying of thirst, diving into me and coming back up to my clit over and over. I can feel us locked in a 69, your cock plunging against the back of my throat, me choking on it, and you clasping my gushing slit against your lips, sucking on me without ceasing. I come up and lick the tip of you before forcing myself to choke on your length again. We have created a circle of erotic pleasure. And with that memory burning in my mind and between my legs, I come.

I come and my mind blanks out for a few seconds, as a thousand images of your hands, your chest, your eyes, your mouth, your dick flash across my consciousness. I remember in those twenty seconds of final release, every fight, every look, every kiss and bite. Every time we’ve come together and every time we’ve driven through the sunset and into the dark. Every shower.

The times on the floor in the living room in front of the fire place, on the couch, in my parents bed, on the conference room table, on the bathroom floor …I remember the times you slapped or choked me and I loved it, because it meant that you truly had me and I belonged only to you. Every time you’ve yelled or cussed, or laughed with me, every time I’ve moaned your name in my head, in my dreams, in your ear.

I come and I feel the hurt and pleasure and understanding: that this is just the beginning and what we’ve created between us is infinite.

At last I rest.

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