u/CheatingHot1982

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Hi loves,

Some of you may have noticed that there’s a recurring trope in my stories: the hero sneaking up behind the heroine, pulling her back against his chest, roughly squeezing her tits while pressing his hard cock against her ass.

That’s because I’m obsessed with this position.

There’s something so deliciously intimate about it. It’s complete trust — letting a man stand behind you, giving him full control to pull you into him and touch you however he wants. At the same time, feeling his excitement throbbing against your ass, then pressing back against him… that rush is addictive.

Add hot, open-mouthed kisses on the neck, playful bites on the earlobe, and that moment when you turn your head just enough for him to claim your lips… and I’m done. Gone. Melted.

I genuinely believe most women feel the same way. This position is the perfect mix of dominance, control, and raw intimacy.

Now you know why it keeps showing up in my stories.

Oh, and by the way—it doesn’t work the same way when I’m behind him. The height difference makes that impossible. At 1.59 m, any attempt at control would be almost comical.

What actually turns me on is slipping quietly behind him, wrapping my arms around his body, and stroking him slowly while I press my lips to his back and melt into him. It’s not about dominance at all. It feels like the sweetest, most loving form of devoted servitude that makes it so hot.

Now tell me… what’s your favourite sexual or erotic position? The one that instantly makes you weak, wet, or rock hard? Drop it in the comments.

I was inspired by Shadow’s intense story “Visitor 1,” especially as Lincoln and Melody grow closer with every moment. I hope you enjoy this part—I aimed to build a strong, sensual atmosphere without crossing the line… at least not yet.

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She swatted him again, laughing breathlessly. "Behave. Or no pizza for you."

But the flirting only ramped up as she started mixing the dough by hand, the sticky mixture clinging to her fingers. Marcus watched her intently, his eyes tracing the way her arms moved, the subtle jiggle of her breasts against the tight dress.

"Looks fun," he said after a moment, voice low and suggestive. "Mind if I learn? I want to get my hands in there."

Mia's pulse spiked. She knew what he was doing—knew this was escalating the game. But she was too thrilled, too horny to stop. "Sure. Come here."

He didn't hesitate. Marcus stepped up behind her—very close, his tall frame towering over her petite one. His chest brushed her back, heat radiating through their clothes. She could feel the solid wall of him, the way his presence enveloped her completely.

"Like this?" he asked innocently, but his voice was rough with desire as he reached around her, his large hands hovering over the dough.

Mia couldn't help herself. Her body was on fire—wet, aching, alive with the erotic charge of the day. She took his large hands in hers, pulling them down to the dough, her smaller fingers lacing over his from above. "Yeah... like this. Knead it slowly. Firm."

The moment his hands sank into the sticky mixture, Marcus pressed subtly into her from behind. His hips aligned with hers, and she felt it—his huge cock, semi-soft but thick and heavy, nestling right between her ass cheeks through their clothes. The bulge was unmistakable, the heat of it searing against her, the size making her gasp softly. It twitched slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot on her neck.

They started kneading the dough together—highly erotic, every motion charged. Mia's hands guided his from above, but it was his strength doing the work: pushing down firmly, folding the dough over, pressing and releasing in a rhythmic pattern that mimicked something far more intimate. Each knead made his body rock against hers—his chest flush to her back, his arms caging her against the counter, his cock grinding subtly between her ass cheeks with every forward push.

"Like this?" Marcus murmured, his mouth hovering just over her neck, lips brushing the shell of her ear. His breath was warm, teasing, sending shivers down her spine. "Slow and firm... getting it all nice and pliable."

Mia arched back instinctively, pushing her ass firmer against him, feeling his cock harden further—growing thicker, longer, the semi-soft length turning rigid as it nestled deeper between her cheeks. "Y-yes... just like that. Deeper. Don't be afraid to really work it."

His body pressed firmer into her now—chest to back, hips locked, every knead syncing their movements like a slow, erotic dance. She pushed back harder, grinding subtly against his bulge, the friction making her pussy clench emptily, dripping with need. His mouth stayed hovering over her neck, lips ghosting her skin without kissing—teasing, promising, his hot breath making her nipples ache.

"Feels good," he whispered, voice gravel-rough and highly charged. "This dough... soft, yielding under my hands. But you know what I'd really love to knead? Something even softer. Firm in all the right places. Like those perfect tits of yours... or that tight little ass grinding back against me right now."

Mia's breath came in pants now, her hands trembling over his as they kneaded harder, faster. The dough stretched and folded under their combined force, but all she could focus on was the erotic press of his body—the way his huge cock throbbed between her ass cheeks, the heat of his chest searing her back, his mouth so close to her neck she could feel the vibration of his words on her skin. She pushed back bolder, circling her hips just enough to rub against him, feeling him grow fully hard—massive, insistent, making her imagine how it would split her open.

"You're bad," she whispered back, voice shaking with lust, flirting charged with heat. "Talking like that... while we're alone in here. What if Alex hears? Walks in?"

"That's the thrill," Marcus growled softly, his free hand—not on the dough—sliding to her waist, pulling her back firmer against him. His cock ground deeper between her cheeks, the denim barrier doing nothing to hide its size. "The game. Getting away with this—me behind you, feeling how wet you must be right now. I bet you're dripping, Mia. Aching for something thicker than fingers in that shower earlier."

She moaned quietly, pushing back harder, her ass cheeks clenching around the outline of his cock. "Fuck... yes. It's making me so horny. This whole day... the touches, the risks. I shouldn't want it, but I do. More."

His mouth dipped lower, lips brushing her neck now—hovering, teasing, his breath hot and ragged. "Good girl. Push back like that... feel how hard you make me. I'd knead you all night if I could. Slow. Firm. Until you're begging."

They kept kneading—the dough a proxy for what they both craved—their bodies rocking in sync, breaths coming hard and fast. Mia's pussy throbbed emptily, her clit begging for touch, her nipples straining against the dress. Marcus's cock pulsed between her ass cheeks, his body pressing firmer, harder, his mouth now nuzzling her neck without quite kissing.

At the end, they slowed—standing still, bodies locked, breathing hard in unison. His chest heaved against her back, her ass still cradling his massive hardness, neither pulling away.

Just breathing.

Just feeling.

The erotic tension humming like a live wire, ready to snap.

Chapter 16: The Reward

The dough was almost ready—smooth, elastic, sticking slightly to their intertwined fingers as they pressed and folded it one last time. Mia’s breathing was still uneven, her body thrumming from the slow, deliberate grind of Marcus’s hips against her ass, from the thick, semi-hard length that had nestled so perfectly between her cheeks and grown harder with every subtle rock. The kitchen smelled of yeast and warm skin, the sunlight slanting across the counter catching the faint sheen of sweat on her collarbone.

Marcus’s mouth hovered over the side of her neck again, lips so close she could feel the heat of every exhaled word.

“You’re a great teacher,” he whispered, voice low and gravel-rough, vibrating against her skin. “And great teachers deserve a reward.”

Before Mia could form a response—before she could even draw breath to protest or tease—his clean right hand slid from her waist to her stomach and pulled her firmly into him.

Their dirty, flour-dusted left hands stayed locked together over the dough, fingers still interlaced, sticky and warm. The contrast was obscene: one hand innocent and domestic, the other possessive and hungry.

His mouth descended on her neck—furious, open-mouthed kisses, hot and wet and unrelenting.

Mia’s head fell back on a sharp gasp.

His lips sealed over the sensitive spot just below her ear, sucking lightly, then harder, tongue flicking against her pulse point. He scraped his teeth along the tendon, then soothed it with slow, languid licks. Each kiss sent lightning straight to her core—her pussy clenching hard, clit throbbing, fresh wetness flooding her already-soaked thong.

She couldn’t help the little moans that escaped—soft, breathy, desperate sounds she tried to muffle but couldn’t quite contain.

“Marcus…” she managed, voice shaking, half scold, half plea. “We… we can’t… Alex is—”

“Shhh,” he murmured against her skin, not stopping. “Just feel it. You’re shaking already. So sensitive here…” Another open-mouthed kiss, tongue dragging up the side of her throat. “Every time I kiss you right here, your hips buck back against me. You want this.”

Her clean right hand flew up behind his head, fingers threading into his dreadlocks, pressing him firmer against her neck. She didn’t pull him away—she pulled him closer, arching into his mouth, silently begging for more.