Sunday, October 01, 2006

One day, sex with two men

8 am: D's house, in bed. We had been sleeping, then, quickly and quietly, D rolls over against me and starts playing with my breasts. I feel his cock growing hard against my legs and I get turned on. His wife is asleep down the hall, so we want to be quiet (we're polite). Soon I am under the covers, sucking D's cock, taking him as far down as I can, then he's on top of me, driving it in, hard and thick. Soon, he flips me over, and I am taking it hard, my ass in the air as he slams his cock into my pussy, a pillow muffling the noise I want to make. When we finish, we come together, and it's good. Wet and good.

11:30 am: Z's house, on the bed. I've come over for some emotional support for something unrelated to sex, love or men and Z strokes my neck, looks into my eyes, and says "I think you need to squirt." How could I disagree? Soon I am naked on the bed and his magic hands are rubbing my clit, gently making their way inside my pussy. He kisses me and his tongue is a poem, his mouth a song we both are making.
No one can touch me like Z, I think, and just give myself over to what he makes me feel--to the feeling of his hand inside me, pushing hard and hard against my g-spot, till I feel like I want to scream, like I could somehow burst, a small explosion roaring inside me as the wetness builds and my pussy gets all wet, sloshy, wide and opening, opening against his hand like the core of a peach, the ripe wetness of the clinging fruit.
And then Z wants to fuck me, too. Just like D he doesn't want to wait any longer. My pussy is so wet, so ready, so ripe there is nothing to do but put it right in, plunge down into that velvet tightness and shove himself between my legs.
I lie back on the bed and Z thrusts inside me, my legs up in the air around his neck and shoulders, his cock another exciting poem.
And then there is the moment we both come,one after the other, a tripwire of passion and lust, and then there are Z's hands, making me come again, so drained I cannot move any longer, so satied I am done.
You are the best lover I have ever had, I tell Z, and I wonder if the fact this is true will make me his forever.

On the way home to the rest of my day, I think about what a slut I am for screwing two men in just a few hours and that thought itself is another gift to myself, a little secret that makes me (totally) smile.

1 comment:

His fucktoy said...

Coming from my hidden shell to comment, though, i've read you for some time now.

2 men in ~4 hours; indeed, slutty but in a totally delicious sort of way! Lucky you!

Love this line: "his cock another exciting poem" lovely turn of phrasing.

Very hot! Keep writing!