u/UsualEdge246

Fuuuuck my hormones are raging this morning.

What is it about weekends? I should be sleeping in and yet here I am, wide awake and feeling enormous. Feeling powerful.

You look beautiful sleeping next to me. I don’t know why but today I’m fixating on your neck, on the spot where it connects to your collar bone. Watching it rise and fall slowly as you slumber.

I like to stretch and run my hands along my body in the morning. Feel the heat of my own skin, feel joints and muscles wake up. Fingers dipping over hipbones and into my sleep shorts. I know it’s a very dumb boy thing to like… hold my junk, but it’s good to check in with yourself. My big hand just kind of rests on my length, lightly cupping everything. My balls feel heavy, they’re kind of flopped slightly to the side in my scrotum as I lie on my back.

Jesus.

I woke up hard today.

That kind of never happens. Heavy? Sure. Swollen? Most definitely. But fully hard and hot and ready? That’s kind of rare.

I can even feel a big heavy drop of precum drooling out and glazing my own belly.

—

I pull you into me so we’re spooning. It’s such a thrill the way our bodies fit together isn’t it? Almost like pieces that were designed to interlock.

My arm slips deftly under your pillow. The other hooks around and traces up your sleep shirt, my palm finds his home on your sternum. Drawing you in. Using leverage to pull myself closer to you as we sort of… dock?

I feel you stir slightly and murmur a soft grunt.

I can’t see your face but it sounds like you’re smiling.

You’ve been on a streak of sleeping in one of my loose shirts and no bottoms. I like to sleep shirtless in sleep shorts. We’re cute together but it’s a bit of a mismatch isn’t it? I feel by hips, my- well, let’s just say it- my size- pressed against your bare ass, hemmed in my the fabric of my shorts.

Knowing it’s forward and quite abrupt, but I reach down and tug the waistband down, pulling them off and liberating myself. My coiled power unfurls as if spring loaded and lands on your ass with an audible THWUMP.

I hear a soft, hoarse giggle of delight escape your throat as my strong arm drifts down your chest, over your ribs and across your tummy to your hips.

I nip a playful bite on your neck, followed by a hungry kiss and press my hips into you.

The result is odd, I’ve sort of… fucked your thighs? The tender size of me easily presses through the soft flesh of your legs just below your ass. You feel the top side of my shaft trace past your vulva, tucked safely away at the moment but already puffed and glistening with need. I’m not the only one who woke up aroused. 🤓

The heavy swollen head of my cock emerges between your thighs, peeking out just below your mound, below your lips. You glance down and issue a playful “Oh hello…” I adore how scratchy your voice is in the morning.

I take your hand in mine, fingers loosely intertwined and guide her to my tip. Tracing a finger over the slit on the thick head of my cock, gathering, scooping a warm drool of precum onto your fingertip, then drifting up to glaze it over your lower lip. It’s good to have lip balm in the morning, right?

The noise you let out at feeling my precum coat your lip is flat and primal. Kind of a “Hunhh”

Watching you lap at your own lip like a possessed kitten, I can’t help but smile. My voice is a low rumble in your ear.

“You know I woke up this hard because the first thought that entered my mind was these lips. This mouth...”

I really like to feel the electricity crackle across your skin at the sound of my voice. The imperceptible tensing of small muscles.

“I was thinking about how deep you welcomed me into your throat last night. The way I claimed such a vital part of you as my own.

…And the way you let me.”

“Fuck.” I hear you whisper to no one in particular. Or perhaps to yourself. My strong hand is exploring you now, tracing a path over your shoulder and down your ribs.

“The way your eyes went blank and the powerful woman I was with just sort of… left the building?”

My fingers dance over the soft flesh of your breast tissue.

“The way something just yielded within her, and you let your body just become this… fucktoy?”

Your nipple perks to attention at my touch, practically surging and taut with need.

“Do you remember that?”

I feel your obedient nod as my hand cups the fullness of your breast possessively. Wanting to both make you so aware of the power of your femininity and also… so held at the same time.

I feel a soft gush of wetness between your thighs, trickling its way over the top length of my cock.

“I woke up thinking I wanted that again this morning…”

I am suddenly aware of the soft grind your hips have started, surely it’s subconscious, but I feel you sort of baring (bearing?) down and kind of rubbing your pretty little cunt over the top side of my cock.

“But I think I’ve just changed my mind.”

I kiss your neck, just beneath your ear, behind your earlobe. It’s sort of cheating isn’t it? I know it’s your spot. The one that makes you go all melty. Not quite the “off switch” for your brain, but maybe a dimmer? Like I’m turning the lights down low. Setting the mood.

I reach for your hand again, you’re still tracing your tongue over the echo of precum on your fingertip. I cup your hand beneath your mouth.

“Spit.”

My command is unwavering and direct. But your mind is pliant. I hear the soft sputter as your mouth dribbles onto your palm.

“Don’t pretend to be prude. We both know you can do better. Spit for real.”

I feel you writhe slightly, it’s fun when I call out your inner slut. When I summon her to come out and play.

I watch you swish spit from somewhere deep and then pour it out of your mouth, coating your palm.

“Good girl.”

My hand guides yours now, down to the tip of me, still resting, poking out between your thighs.

You don’t really need instruction, I feel you take in the weight of me and envelope in the warmth of your spit all at once. Feeling the soft rock of your hips and the tight grip of your hand, I feel your body working together to coat me in a healthy lather of spit and arousal.

“Babe. I would very much like to fuck you this morning.”

I smile at the soft whimpery beg you let out in response to those words on your ears.

“Do you think that would be alright?”

I feel your nod and an exhalation. A shallowness of breath.

“Say it.”

My command is unwavering.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes. Fuck me.”

“Louder.”

“Yes. FUCK ME.”

“Where would you like to be fucked?”

“Fuck my pretty little cunt.”

“Attagirl.”

My hand drifts to yours again, and together we grip the warmth of your asscheek and spread you, exposing the ripeness of all your feminine beauty.

“UNNRRRNNGHHHHH.” The groan I emit in your ear is practically deafening. Fuck. But can you blame me? You feel.

So.

Fucking.

Good.

“Fucking hell, how are you this tight?” My laugh is low and breathless with disbelief.

I take your hand again, tracing it to your low belly, just above your mound, demonstrating a firm amount of pressure until-

“Oh fuck. Hello….” You gasp as we both feel the hungry echoes of my length slowly grinding somewhere deep in your guts.

You keep your hand there obediently, going for extra credit by tracing little pressure-y circles every time you feel me surge against you.

My arm hooks under your knee on your top leg, lifting her and in the process spreading you wide, putting you in a… rather compromised position, but one that now lets us go

So.

Fucking.

Deep.

“I want to feel you cum on my cock. Do you think that would be alright?” I laugh into your ear.

“Please stop talking.” Your voice is strained and tight.

“As you wish.”

And with that, my hips move.

And I mean move. It’s not rough, per se, but I’m not gentle.

This is good ol’ fashioned Fucking, with a capital F.

The indelicate thwacks of my heavy nuts smacking on your eager cunt echo in the room.

I let loose this barrage for a long moment, letting you slip into headspace of being held tight as we fuck. Then-

I press into your shoulder. Compelling you to roll onto your tummy. Your legs splayed slightly, feeling my bodyweight press down into you, that delicious, warm… squish? Is that the right word? Like your whole body is in a panini press (okay im weird 🙃)

But most importantly, all this energy, all this bodyweight and power, is somehow focused on

One

Spot.

And it starts with G.

Yep. My hips swim, dipping hungry, possessive strokes into your tender depths. But somehow, even with the movement and the thrusting, the pressure on your g-spot is just…

unrelenting.

As my hips move with more authority, I feel your legs start to tremble. Notice you grip fistfuls of bed sheets, holding on, bracing for what’s about to hit you.

“There she is.”

The shake grows uncontrollable. More earthquake than tremor.

“There’s my good girl.”

I notice you close your eyes. Clearly trying to focus on the finish line.

“Open your eyes babe.”

You feel my fingers scrape through your hair, turn abruptly into a fist at the base of your skull, then lift your head so that you can see yourself in the mirror.

“I want you to watch how beautiful you are when you cum.”

I’m not sure which of those final moves did the trick, but the combination pushes, no shoves you right over the edge.

The orgasm hits like a bomb. A thunderclap somewhere deep in your cunt.

You start to let out a muffled groan-

“LOUDER. Don’t you dare hold back babe.”

The command and the permission, for the beast within to emerge… she cones out to fucking play. Your voice bellows, fully feral, as if we’ve turned the volume all the way up.

I feel your pussy quiver and convulse on my cock. As you whimper and beg, somehow both for more and for mercy all at once.

I ease up on the thrusts. Just hold myself inside you, giving your still-cumming cunt something to clench on as she slowwwwly comes down from her mountaintop.

“Good girl. You did so good.”

I lavish kisses on your cheek and neck. I pull your hair again to tip your face back to me, so that I can plant a nice forehead kiss on you, as I look down into your hazy, blissed out eyes.

The sheets are going to be a fucking mess. I can already feel it. Good thing it’s laundry day.

I roll over and scoop you back into my arms. Holding you tight as you come back to yourself. Giving you a break.

I do need you again. Possibly a few more times.

We’re probably going to be late for that brunch you scheduled. 😻

I’m often struck by how two simple words can carry a near mystical power.

What we say matters. We learn that as kids, don’t we? Despite my heedlessly verbose rambles, I believe in the virtue of choosing words carefully, and not wearing them out from overuse.

So I’ve been thinking about those two words a lot lately. And I’ve been trying to figure out what exactly I mean when I say them.

When I look into your eyes, smile and murmur-

“Good girl.”

Am I praising your obedience?

Delighting in your promiscuity?

Affirming some boundary?

Relishing your surrender?

Perhaps that’s some part of it. But it is far from the full picture. Despite our dynamic, and my reflexive tendency toward leadership, I really don’t just crave your arbitrary compliance.

Look, obviously I recognize that there is no universal truth to what I’m saying. Life has wired us all differently and words hit the little quirks and kinks in our minds in different ways.

I think for me, when I say it, I find I’m often trying to vocalize my own recognition and acknowledgement of your power.

I’m not sure if I’m making myself clear. But I think that when I say-

“Good. Girl…”

I’m hopeful that you won’t miss the undercurrent of awe in my voice, the admiration that something raw and wild has been harnessed (emotionally and/or physically 🥸) and focused toward our mutual pleasure.

I’ll be- perhaps a bit basic for a moment and sketch a rather stereotypical image-

As I watch you.

On your knees.

Your face resting in my lap, my fingers scratching through your soft hair and tracing over your puffy lower lip.

Drinking in the curves of your body, folded in on themselves, seeking friction, needing tension.

The blank lusty gaze up at me as you wait paitiently for me to unfurl the coiled power of my manhood, welcoming you to explore his weight, his shape…

In that moment I would absolutely look down at you and think (and most likely say)

“God, she’s such a good girl...”

And I don’t think it’s the actual submission that hits me like a freight train to the chest.

It’s everything you’ve done before you got down on your knees. The busy week of running a business, the long weekend managing a household, the deep well of empathy required to caretake friends and extended family and friends’ extended families.

It’s who you are.

It’s seeing you.

It’s letting you know that I see you.

This vital, capable, strange, hilarious, brilliant woman.

And you’re— it’s not that you’re transforming, because you aren’t changing.

But there is a stilling, a slowing of the self.

You lead a wildly important life and all of those other people and things are deeply worthy of your focus and attention.

And yet.

Here we are.

Somehow, I have managed to capture some fragment of your attention.

And what we elect to do together with this attention— that’s really the game isn’t it?

Perhaps I’ll make you cum. Perhaps we’ll cum together.

Or

I might prefer to keep you on the edge. After all, there are more than a few folks who hold a very firm belief that-

Good girls don’t cum.

Only time will tell.

—

I remember the first time that I used these two words. The first time I said “Good girl” to a grown woman in public. It was innocent and unintended but it felt like I’d discovered fire.

I was a bartender in my early 20s. I worked at a place that was popular with 40 something divorcés who sooooo wanted their lives to be Sex and the City. I had a few regulars who would get a little rowdy after their 2nd cosmo and one night, one of them was dancing on a barstool to impress her friends.

It was a busy night and I was overwhelmed and flustered and I remember sort of snapping at her- “Absolutely not. Get down.”

She caught herself, clearly felt a little embarrassed and climbed down. And in that moment, the words just tumbled out of my mouth.

“Good girl.”

This must have been seventeen years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. The way her eyes locked on mine, briefly stunned and almost glazed over, as if paralyzed by lust.

I was honestly just as surprised as her. I did everything I could to keep composure and assert my authority. I still wonder if she could tell I was quaking in my late aughts skinny jeans. 🙃

Nothing happened that night but a few weeks later we were flirting and she brought me back to her place. We were making out and she interrupted breathlessly-

“Say it.”

I remember it took me a moment to figure out what she meant but I caught on and obliged.

“Good girl.”

I remember the grown that spilled from her lips that first time.

She pulled away, hiked up her dress, slipped her thong to the side and touched herself.

“Say it again.”

I don’t imagine I was suave or confident. I was hanging on by my fingernails, but I played along. She got closer and closer with each time I said it. It was the first time I had a partner ask for permission to cum. It was the first time I used the phrase-

“You’re going to cum like a good girl, aren’t you?”

I remember the way that unraveled her. The intensity with which she came, clearly so pent up. I held her tight. Kissed her forehead, not because I knew that was what she needed it was just the closest part of her to my mouth. I remember the way she shivered in my arms as she came down from the endorphin rush.

Then I remember the way she looked up into my eyes. She looked somehow both sated and ravenous.

I remember her on her knees, calling her a good girl again as my hand caressed the contours of her face, and she responded by taking my full length into her mouth. It was the first time I’d been deepthroated. Properly anyway. And the relentless squelches, slurps and glucks probably made me use her magic words entirely too many times.

I remember the way she bent on all fours and spread herself for me. I remember mounting her. I remember it was the first time I was bold enough to reach forward and pull a partner’s hair. And it was the first time that I could clearly feel the convulsions of a partner clenching and cumming around my cock. That I could feel the hollow detonation of her orgasm in her core.

—

It’s probably not the best testament to my intelligence or self-reflection that it took me sooo long after that to find my way to soft and pleasure dominance. I just sort of naively assumed that because I wasn’t particularly drawn toward impact play that I wasn’t into BDSM.

When I stop to think about it, nearly all my partners in life have been older than I am. Not often to the borderline cougar-cub age gap I just described, but I think it probably informs some of my perspective here. I think I’ve never really had the experience of being the older partner, the guide or the mentor. My partner has always been very much a Woman with a capital W, more powerful and evolved than a “girl,” and I’ve certainly come to understand that creating a safe space for her surrender, for her to cast off the weight of womanhood at the end of a long day and just to get to be playful, is perhaps the best gift I can offer.

At least that’s my hope. It’s certainly possible I’m wrong. Or I’m just plain lying to myself, but it’s why I tend to insist that the act of submission is sort of besides the point and never really my primary focus.

It’s more that when we find ourselves in this space. And we lock eyes.

And you are vulnerable enough to share with me some wordless need.

I can draw you into my lap. Spread your legs. And share my wand vibrator with you. We can hold it together. Marvel at the low rumble at the root of your clit, teasing her base, that spot just to the right, where you like it.

Pouring soft encouragement into your ear, I savor the way your whole body melts into me. Safe and comfortably resting your bodyweight against my broad chest.

“Good girl…”

As we both feel a convulsion welling somewhere deep. My hand explores you, drinks in your curves, feels your nipples perk to life, your skin grow hot to the touch.

Just as the moan builds in your throat

You feel me flick the toy off.

Your clit throbs. Rages. Mid-pulse.

My hands press firm on your thighs, spreading your legs as we both glance down to watch as your cute little cunt clenches desperately, crying out for the orgasm that was just snatched away from her.

Whispering solace.

“It’s okay babe. I’ve got you.”

And promise to repay that loss, that denial tenfold.

With all the frustration you’ve endured lately it seems cruel for me to pile on.

But this is not your first time playing this game.

And you know the release will come. That I always keep my promises.

But sometimes good girls just have to wait.

😻

There are times when hormones surge in us and the need for each other overwhelms all else.

In those moments I find my spirit crying out in desperate need of connection.

Following that need my body tends to snap into action. I don’t think I’d describe my demeanor as aggressive, but I can certainly be exceedingly assertive. It’s probably the most overtly “dommy” (is that a word? That can’t be a word) that I get.

It might start in missionary. Such an underrated position, isn’t it? Feels like it maybe gets associated with boring sex. But I get to look into your eyes. I get to kiss you. And my body is free to move, to let my hips swim and stroke to deep spaces within you.

I can easily get lost here forever, in this flow state of exploration. My hips dipping deep. Stolen kisses. Feeling your fingers dance across my skin. Your legs curl around me and ankles lock at my low back.

But there’s this look you give me, invariably somewhere deep in a reverie that can interrupt my yogic trance, that snaps me out of the way we commune together and pushes me toward something deeper.

I’m trying to think of how to describe this look and I’m struggling. It’s a fire in your eyes, sure, betraying a deeper need. It’s a parting of your lips, a wordless plea for “more…”

It’s entirely possible there is no look. That I’m just projecting my own darker desires onto you. I hope that’s not the case but I feel my body yield to instinct. Muscles fire as someone or something more primal takes over.

My hands move to your legs. Thumbs hook into the tender space behind your knees, pinning them up into the space near your armpit. Folding your supple body in half. A wise woman once said “turn my ankles to earrings…”

Darling. I’m happy to oblige.

There’s this delicious opening up in that moment, isn’t there? As your hips tip upward, presenting yourself. Exposing yourself. Ripe for the taking. As the same wise woman once said “a wish to my hips to crack in two…”

There’s a beauty to that negative space, the cool air under you as your ass lifts and your low back hovers off the bed. If I still have my wits about me I like to fold a pillow and stuff it in that space. For support, and to cushion the blow in the event that I get carried away.

In this moment, I can’t help but pause for a moment to take you in. To marvel at the radical vulnerability, the wild abandon in your eyes. I feel myself salivate. Quite actually drooling at the thought of claiming you as mine. And you might watch a warm trail of saliva fall from my lips, glazing your swollen clit and dancing over your soft folds. It might just look like I’m lustily leering at your glistening pussy, but I promise there’s more happening in my mind. I’m taking a moment to ground myself, to find my center, understanding the magnitude and the importance of the contract we’re drafting together. With your folding, your tender presentation, you are giving yourself over to me- mind, body and spirit. And I am accepting the responsibility to safeguard you through this. To be your Sherpa of a sort, on some strange quest, a long and potentially winding road, perhaps one that detours in bogs and quagmires of self-doubt, but one that invariably climbs toward a summit of release. And then of course to lead you downhill gently, to hold your hand and make you feel safe.

All of this is communicated in the fleeting simplicity of a nod.

I admit my eyes go wet in response to your consent. It’s not that I’m crying, but you know that feeling when an emotion hits you so square in the chest that it demands a physiological response?I’m not entirely sure how I would describe this emotion I’m feeling right now- Longing? Gratitude? Adoration?

With this contract signed there is not much else to do but to give in. To give ourselves over to the wonderful/terrible force of our libidos. I tend to linger in this moment. Of eye contact, of feeling the tension of your muscles in my hands. Everything here feels loaded with poetry and potential. I can’t help but feel some tiny sense of doom. Knowing all the raw feral beauty that awaits us, but enjoying the fragile perfection of this tiny intimate moment between us. Pinned beneath my bodyweight, smirking up at me, wondering what my next move will be. I hear a voice in the back of my head say-

“If this is it old boy, I hope you don’t mind I go out speaking the kings…”

And we begin.

My hips press down powerfully and we both feel the way your body melts at the crack of thunder in your core.

“Good girl.” My lips dance over your ear, pouring affirmations into your mind. I know that was an intense opening gambit, to push myself this deep this immediately. But you didn’t break. You rose to the occasion. I pull my hips partway back and push again. Deeper, watching your eyelids flutter. Again piston back once more and this time put my back into it. I feel something yield in you-

And my cock rests his heavy head-

Directly on your cervix.

I rest here a moment, stunned and in awe of the sheer power of your femininity. I’m completely inside you. Stretching and claiming every possible fold of you and somehow this feels… gentle? Like the moment where the mortal approaches the mythical creature and puts a hand out in humility. Not taking by force but taming with respect.

I feel my hips shift slightly, redirecting my weight and settling the weight of my erection just a little bit north of his current position on your cervix.

He finds his way to the soft notch

of your anterior fornix.

Your body’s reaction is immediate and overwhelming. The dragon’s scales falling away in Spirited Away to reveal your true form as a river goddess.

The noise you make is primal. It’s not a word or a plea or a demand. It’s somehow deeper. I know it’s not what you said but my ears process it as-

“Mate.”

And yes. I could not have summed it up better myself. It describes all of our connection and our jumbled mess of needs in one succinct word.

Fixated on your a-spot, my hips move.

Thwump.

Thwump.

It takes a moment before you realize your blank mind is listening to the weight of my balls pressing against your puffy lips.

Fingers still hooked fast around the crook of your knees. I push inside you relentlessly as I watch your eyes darken. It’s so wild to watch you slip away. To see my kindhearted lover leave her own body and fall into the comfort of subspace.

There is an unspeakable beauty to a powerful woman like yourself, folded up in unconditional surrender.

I find myself uttering your mantra in your ear again-

“Good girl.”

But the beast- The creature that you’ve become, does not share your self control.

I feel a sharp involuntary kegel at my words. This ripe little hole you call a cunt beginning to tremble on the brink of collapse.

“Oh my god babe… are you going to cum already?”

I watch a red flush of embarrassment color your cheeks and I immediately feel bad. There’s no need to taunt you. That’s not fair.

My hands frame your face, bringing your gaze to lock on mine.

“It’s okay. You can cum.”

The permission seems to unlock something in you. You let out an incoherent grunt as your hips yawn wider.

“You are so so good.”

I watch the crinkle of your brow as you wonder if I’m going to say it-

“You are such a good girl.”

Your whole cunt sings out and spasms at those words, gripping me in exaltation.

“Just do me a favor…”

Your eyes search mine.

“Don’t you dare hold back.”

Your throat lets out a grunt like a wild animal.

“That’s it.”

I feel your kegels turn to deeper contractions. Trying to draw me close to your cervix again.

“There she is.”

I feel the clench in your core, followed by the muscle spasm and the full body shakes.

“There’s my girl.”

Knowing you’re already deep in it I insist on pushing your further past your limit. My hips move in taut relentless thrusts now. Fucking you straight through the shake.

“Cum hard.”

That’s when I hear the scream. Full throated and deafening in my ear. Your body reaching for any way to express this intensity.

“Cum like you fucking mean it.”

I hold you tight as we both feel the crest of your orgasm, which for a long moment, feels like it will never pass.

But I’m looking in your eyes as it eventually subsides. As the convulsions calm. As you turn to hungry kisses and fits of delighted laughter.

There’s something so wonderful about the way your body feels right after you’ve cum. There’s such an unselfconscious openness. Your joints feel suppler, more open, more… bendy even? I’m sure it’s just the flood of endorphins but it feels like our bodies are never closer than in this moment.

You laugh and let your hand go to your forehead to dab at some of the glisten and start to say something like “holy shit-“

But my hand moves to your cheek, frames your face, fingers trace that corner of your jawline.

“We’re not done yet babe.”

I move my hips slow and you feel the soft stretch of me inside you, snapping you out of your reverie and feeling my coiled power, hard and thick, but with just the right amount of squish to him to hit that spot.

Your eyes meet mine, and it’s as if you can see your future.

You can feel the way I am going to empty myself inside you, unleash my virility in your cervical throne room. You’re going to feel me leaking out of you all day tomorrow.

With a soft shared smirk, the same telepathic word passes between us-

“Mate.”

I mean this earnestly.

I know that our normal flow is for me to not make you say what you want. That that can be a kind of pressure in and of itself. That it’s wonderful at the end of. Long week to have someone know you well enough to intuit your needs.

And I think I generally know a lot of what you want and need.

But after the flowers, and the handmade toddler crafts, and the French toast in bed, which is never REALLY breakfast in bed, but there’s a real effort. After the mimosas and a few gifts…

What do you really want?

Is it as simple as a nap?

A long shower that is not interrupted by your offspring?

Of course if there are a few stolen minutes in the afternoon, you deserve some really good head. That’s arguably just as much for me as it is for you.

Is there a deeper need? Perhaps a desire to not feel so needed? To not feel like anyone’s mother, even if only for a few minutes. To feel small. Taken. Protected.

To be blunt- do you need to be folded in half and wrung out like a wet towel?

Because here’s the thing.

You’re a fabulous mother.

The whole world can see that.

But there’s a sparkle glistening in your eyes. One that most people would attribute to your playful spirit.

I see something else. I see a coiled energy, ready to pounce. Or perhaps to be pounced upon. (Okay my brain just played the “Pinned ya!” “Pinned ya again!” moment between Simba and Nala. I have problems)

I just have this sense that there is a yearning to gallop across a field at full tilt, to let your hair down, both physically and emotionally. To get to let some part of you loose, even if just for a fleeting moment.

My guess, on today of all days, is that you might want to fuck and be fucked. In a way that perhaps you have not had the opportunity in recent months.

BUT. I’m asking out of an attempt at humility. I think it’s sort of my tendency to come on here and just guess what’s going through your mind. Perhaps when I actually shut up and listen, the real answer will surprise me. Perhaps it is so much simpler than my overthinking brain. Or perhaps it’s even more “depraved” (is there really such a thing) than I could have anticipated.

So I ask again…

What do you really want for Mothers Day?

Apparently I’m back on my threesome bullshit. Didn’t expect this to be my mood when I woke up but here we are. 🙃

This seems to be a loose continuation of an earlier ramble “Just the Three of Us” so, a polite/light trigger warning that some mild and consensual cuckold themes may lurk below.

—

You had gotten spoiled.

I mean really, who could blame you?

It was intoxicating to have two lovers focused on, even completing over your pleasure, wasn’t it?

What had started on that nervy weekend in your hotel room as a onetime special occasion had turned into a way of life. A spark that ignited a wildfire. Frankly, you’d gotten used to all this attention. You’d always had a high sex drive but your appetite these days was downright ravenous.

I had grown accustomed to staying in your guest room a few nights a week. I tried not to impose on your relationship or your lifestyle but I found my dominant side coming out more and more, and was surprised how open both of you seemed to my gentle guidance.

The best part is we were all having so much fun.

He and I really enjoyed each other. Our inside jokes were probably more than a little insufferable. And somehow our playful competitions over your pleasure didn’t seem to curdle into jealousy or resentment. We were both quite focused on you. So even if I “won” and he “lost”, we both got to witness the thunderclap of an orgasm erupt inside your core. Every time you came (and let’s face it, that was deliciously frequent these days) it was a reminder of why we were here in this tangle of your bedsheets.

There was such a refreshing spirit of play to everything we were doing.

He and I enjoyed our little contests over the way we ate your pussy. Our techniques were quite distinct. His tended toward fast and frantic, eating like a man possessed and short on time. I approached you patiently. And I seemed to be… slurpier? (Is that gross to say?😬) I just realllly liked to let my tongue dip deep into your folds and had grown obsessed with your wetness so yeah, I made some crazy noises when I was in the zone. You enjoyed us both but I noticed a pattern that when my face was between your thighs you really came to life. Grabbed my head with both hands and rode straight into your orgasm.

You’d started this cute little habit of just idly playing with my cock while he went down on you. There was such an innocent hunger to the way you touched me. So curious and open, kind of enjoying the heavy swollen flop of me when I wasn’t entirely hard. Running your tongue along the smooth flesh to find a hint of your own taste from the last orgasm you’d had while I was inside you. And I noticed you got like, hyper focused on the slit at the tip of me for some reason? Said there was something about how swollen he got and the way he sort of spread. You weren’t wrong, and you seemed to relish seeing how deep you could dip the tip of your tongue inside me.

—

One evening I had the idea to give you a blindfold. To prop you up on all fours and let you anticipate which of the two of us would present himself for your mouth and which would mount and claim your hips. It wasn’t so much about the mystery, there were enough differences in size and shape that you recognized us right away. But the act of depriving you of your sight seemed to awaken some purer instinct. Frankly it turned you into an animal. He kept looking up to tell me he’d never felt you suck his cock so forcefully. And as I let my body listen to the need your hips were expressing, methodically thumping into your core, I kept looking up at him with a wicked smile.

“Oh my god, she’s about to cum again…”

Feeling his hand on the back of your head must’ve unraveled you because I could feel the way your cunt gripped me for dear life as one orgasm subsided and the next appeared on the horizon. He joked that we’d broken you. Left your orgasm switch permanently to “on.”

—

But it wasn’t all claiming and overt dominance for me. There was that time I’d told you I wanted to know what it’d be like to nurse at your breast while he fucked you. I’d been feeling something growing between us- the intimacy we’d developed through our latch. It was a little dizzying. The connection was so intense. And that night as you were looking down onto my eyes, you felt him start to cum inside you. His orgasm crested and eventually he pulled out. You shocked all three of us a few moments later with soft gasp.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum.”

I hadn’t experienced a pure nipple orgasm from you as yet and it was so intoxicating to feel you writhe and grip the sheets as the pleasure ripped through you, then you just kind of melted into my arms.

—

Something significant did change around that time.

One night after dinner, he and I finished cleaning up the kitchen and I grabbed a quick shower. When we reconvened in your room, we found you in a new lingerie set, you were clearly so excited to show it off, but you fidgeted nervously with a clasp.

He asked what was up.

After some gentle encouragement you told us you wanted something new tonight.

You wanted to switch the… polarity of the way we claimed you? You stammered, fumbling through an explanation until he helped you finish your thought-

“You want me to take your ass so that Luke can have your pussy…”

You were looking directly in my eyes as he said that. Was it… shame I was seeing? You seemed to feel bad about this, but you were also being brave and saying what you wanted.

You looked back at him and nodded.

“Okay.”

His consent seemed to hit somewhere deep.

You pulled him in and kissed him. You two really were so cute together.

He got you ready in the way I had countless times now. Lying back on the bed. Inviting you to sink back onto him. Letting him feel the taut grip of your ass. The healthy lather of lube enveloping him in heat. You rocked your hips, drinking him in, using him like a toy inside you.

I watched you go misty eyed with lust before you looked up and beckoned me over. Your hips spread.

“C’mere babe.” Your whisper held such tenderness. You reached down to stroke me, feeling the way my warmth overwhelmed your small hand.

You braced yourself then reached around and grabbed my ass to—

Pull me into you.

“Fuuuuuuhk.” Your eyelids fluttered. Even after having two lovers nearly every day now, it never got old to feel this fullness.

And there was something different about this arrangement. Him behind you. Me filling you.

It just felt…

More right?

I mean physically, geometrically it just made more sense.

But also.

Something deeper seemed to be shifting? It was a slippery slope.

But you were giving more of yourself to me.

The fullness overwhelmed all of us. I relished the chance to be the one looking in your eyes.

Savored the feeling of the weight of my heavy cock rubbing against his. The slender muscles inside your core that separated us so soft to the touch. He could feel every ripple of me as I moved inside you and I could feel him.

Looking into your eyes I felt him twitch then I gave you a brief warning.

“He’s about to cum.” You nodded and bit your lip in anticipation.

“Help him out.” My command seemed to confuse you briefly, so I clarified-

“Clench.”

I felt you obey. Your ass gripped him abruptly. I heard him groan.

“Good girl. Again.” Again you obeyed.

“Milk that orgasm out of him.”

And you did.

We both felt the way he erupted inside your ass. Heard his roar, muffled as he bit into a spot on your back below your shoulder blade. He was so so happy to cum that hard.

Gasping for breath, I felt him start to pull back, to pull out.

“Not yet.” My voice halted him.

I told him to stay inside you. Even if he was getting soft.

I wanted him to have the experience of what it was like to feel the orgasms build deep in your core. To feel what it was like when they started to just flow out of you, one after the other.

I pushed really deep in you, occupying some of the space he’d yielded as his erection waned.

My head moved down. And my mouth latched to your breast. As I pushed inside. My hips pumped possessively. Your fingers went reflexively to my hair. I could feel the way the tug of my lips at your nipple seemed to connect directly to your clit. We could both feel her throb against my glistening cock as he pulsed inside you.

“Fuck.” You blurted once through clenched teeth.

“There she is. There’s my girl…”

I smiled at you and nodded. Let you know you were safe.

The orgasm was LOUD. Full throated, as they say. You clung to my broad shoulders as you quivered and lost control of your body momentarily.

Just when you thought you were coming back down to Earth-

You felt me shift. Hit a different spot.

Your gasp was downright desperate this time- “Shit-“

“It’s okay.” My murmur was soft and reassuring. “You’ve got this. We’ve got you.”

The shake of your hips, of your entire body, was astonishing. We could all three feel you sink deep into some flow state where you and your orgasm became the same being. It seemed for quite a long while, that you were physically incapable of stopping your orgasm. It just rolled on relentlessly. Tumbling your core in a spin cycle, making you gush your gorgeous mess all over your sheets. Your cum spilling down all over him, as he was still inside you.

I was feeling hormones surge within me. Feeling myself at the peak of my powers, eager to turn up the intensity even more—

But I felt your body go slack in my arms. Felt you crashing back down from your orgasm.

I could feel how overwhelming that had been for you.

For both of you.

And I could tell that you needed care and tenderness. Holding you I kissed your forehead. Steadied you. Told you how good you had done.

The two of you collapsed together. Spooning. It was such an adorable sight to watch the way you took care of each other. I got you both water. And helped you clean off a bit.

I rested next to you in your bed for a while, giving you extra kisses and cuddles and affirmations. Then when the two of you drifted off, I retired to the guest room.

I’d have breakfast ready in the morning. And we could find a new way to explore together.