Thursday, August 25, 2005

Screwing S, a memory

In college, S used to show up at the door to my room late at night, I'd let him in, and we'd make love in the dark, often without talking.
God, was it hot to make love without speaking, suck his cock without a word, help move him inside me and feel his hot cum spurt...and then silently pull apart, separate and kiss.
With our friends--because we were friends and part of the same circle--we pretended there was nothing between us, but then we'd slip off and have hot NSA sex.
I remember grappling on the waterbed in his room, his sharp hipbones jutting into my soft thighs until we made the parts fit together just right.
One night I woke up and there was a man in bed with me, fingers on my thigh, and it was him.
He'd hold my hands down and fuck me and I would do anything--anything--for the pleasure of feeling his fingers pinning my arms down and back as he pressed his cock in and out until I closed around him, coming hard but without a word.

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