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December 13th, 2007The Artist’s tied arms are around my neck as I ride. I’ve put my glasses back on so I can see him, but they keep slipping down my nose.
I hate to encourage the myth that men need to fuck for hours. (It’s a peeve of mine, second only to the notion that women prefer soft, gentle lovemaking. Most men can last longer than my patience.) But watching him struggle to stave off his orgasm sends hotwet shivers through me. Curiously, I don’t need to hurt him to enjoy his distress. All I am doing is fucking him. The harder I grind, the more distressed he acts, and the more excited I get. I come again, riding my feedback loop, my teeth sunk in his arm.
This could be my new favorite game.
He digs his fingers into the skin of my shoulders. I have whip marks from an injudicious Friday night, and the scabs bend under his fingers like crackers breaking.
“I love your scars,” he says.
When I untie his legs all hell breaks loose. He fends me off with his feet, unties the wrist ropes with his teeth, and proceeds to pounce on me, where he does a more credible job of tying me up than I’ve ever done with him.
“I’m sorry for spanking you, ma’am,” he says afterwards, not at all penitent.
I snuggle in bed with him.
“What will you do while I’m away?”
“Masturbate a lot,” I laugh. “I do have sex toys. I probably remember how to use them.”
“You can have your casual encounters,” he says.
I wrinkle my nose. I’m always saying I’m going to put an ad on Craigslist. But I don’t have as easy a time with casual sex as I like to make out. My expectations are high (respect, namely) and I have the sort of fringe sexual fetishes other people pay to have serviced. Maybe if I were less spoiled. Maybe if my expectations were moderated by immediacy, like at a sex party.
Sleepily I ogle him, and my hand wanders between my legs. When he shifts I think he’s caught me in the act. “Don’t mind me,” I say, laughing.
“Don’t mind what?”
“I’m looking at you and masturbating.” I’m not bashful. Here I am the one jerking off, insouciant and lazy, and he is beautiful and naked.
“Don’t stop,” he says. Encouraged, I close my eyes and rock my hips. Shortly his breathing matches mine. I hear the rip of a condom wrapper and he rolls me onto my hands and knees.
What an odd night, I think fleetingly. I wonder how much of this is in my head. Why do I care so much about roles and reasons? It doesn’t matter if my cunt fucks his cock or vice versa; whether I’m wanton and slutty to masturbate for him, or whether deliberately disregarding my dignity gives it back. Maybe it doesn’t matter whether he sees these little games my way or not, if respect or submission is just my invention. Maybe I get caught up thinking too damn much.
Blessedly, I shut up and fuck. His hands clench down, and I bite the pillow and think of nothing.
December 14th, 2007 at 12:42 am
I think that’s the part I am getting continually stuck on. Thanks for the insight.
December 14th, 2007 at 2:52 am
I’m not bashful. Here I am the one jerking off, insouciant and lazy, and he is beautiful and naked.
I think that’s fantastic, actually - to be so relaxed that you can please yourself, which just happens to lead to pleasing both of you.
xx Dee
December 14th, 2007 at 7:35 am
You’re a very talented writer. Good read.
December 15th, 2007 at 9:11 pm
I’m just so thrilled every time you post a snippet involving “the artist.” I don’t know that I can possibly tell you how fantastically hot these are, except to say that I’ve been specifically sending them all to my boyfriend as inspiration.
December 16th, 2007 at 3:10 am
Helena, that is the best praise I could ask for!
December 16th, 2007 at 1:42 pm
Fends you off with his feet, while bound, does he? He and I need to trade tips, or train together for a bit, or something.
December 17th, 2007 at 12:15 pm
Hot, I say, through a wide grin.
December 17th, 2007 at 1:20 pm
Very hot story…I like the way you write, which is becoming more and more rare for me. I like how you mix thoughts and actions all together. I will definitely be coming back here again.
December 18th, 2007 at 4:38 pm
Lucky boy:)
I agree with maymay, being able to get lost and just enjoy the moment is my most difficult task.
It was great to meet you…yet again. Thanks for the cooking advice:)
December 18th, 2007 at 6:46 pm
Oh my goodness. This is delicious.