u/UsualEdge246

I’ve been thinking about orgasms lately.

(Shocker, I know.)

About the ways in which we use them to express ourselves— perhaps not a reflection, but maybe a refraction of our mood. I suppose it makes sense. And the vulnerability of the ways we share and demonstrate it to each other is just something I find quite touching.

…Also I’m horny and thought I’d jot down my thoughts to see where they go…

—

You were proud of yourself.

I heard the bleep bleep of the lock and the always-unnecessarily-loud bang of the hotel room door slam shut as you burst in with such… buoyancy. The ponytail that I’d watched you style so meticulously had a life of her own.

You were already mid-conversation. With me, sure, but also with yourself, talking a mile a minute about your presentation, so excited and so effing proud of yourself. Didn’t wait for me to ask how it went, just gave me the full download with breathless glee. You dropped your purse unceremoniously on the chair, kicked off your uncomfortable big girl shoes, then… slinked? No- slid? Yourself over the slick white duvet of the our bed. I was sitting there working on my laptop. Smiling as I watched you. The look in your eye, and this feline, prowl-y stretch you were doing on the bed… you sparked a big toothy grin before inviting yourself into my space, finding a nice spot to nuzzle into my neck.

I looked down and listened attentively. Watching your eyes sparkle with pride.

It was so sexy. You told me every detail- all the reactions and feedback you got until you finally trailed off. Your body clearly buzzing with that endorphin rush of a huge success.

When you paused briefly, an idea hit me.

“Come with me.” I said playfully pulling you to your feet.

Guiding you to the full length mirror in our room, I stood behind you, whispering your ear.

“You are amazing. And I want you to see the way you look to me. I want you to study my eyes in the mirror, as I look at you. Look at them for long time. Then look at yourself.”

And so we did.

My eyes… absolutely drank you in. Taking my time to savor every line and curve. Your eyes locked on mine, the depth of my craving was palpable.

“I think you are beautiful.”

I spoke the words plainly. My voice was a low rasp, and your eyes fell back on yourself. You have always liked your body but… you look extra good today. Chin up, shoulders back, full of self-regard. It was… an aphrodisiac, to say the least.

“Undress.” I commanded quietly.

You looked into my eyes for a beat, and obeyed.

Smirking up at me now, you unbuttoned your shirt. Looking into my eyes as I watched you.

My hands rested on your hips. The well-pressed fabric of your shirt, the one you anguished over picking out for your presentation fell carelessly to the floor.

It was as though there was firelight flickering in my hazel eyes. And it was apparently contagious, quickly spreading to warm someplace inside of you, to warm your womb.

You didn’t miss a beat, slinking your way out of your pants, wanting to make it sexy but who can really make taking good pants off sexy. At one point you had to do a little flip of your ankle to kick them off. Still the look in my eyes displayed how utterly charmed I was. You felt me press my hips against you. Your thong rubbing my zipper, you felt the way I was pulsing to life against you.

You unfastened your bra, and slipped out of your glistening thong, the vulnerability overwhelming, as my hands moved from your hips to wrapping around your waist, pulling you in to me, feeling the warmth of us together. I rested my chin on your shoulder, letting you feel the soft fur of my beard nuzzle you, and I smiled the most delighted smile as my gaze met yours.

“I’m stunned by you.”

Of course it was only fair if I let you undress me too.

You started with my belt, which I thought was funny but you’ve always been pretty open about saying what you want. You unfastened my pants. Scooting them down my hips as your eyes smirked up at me.

You were losing patience as you practically tore the seams of my soft tshirt to get it off me.

And you pulled the elastic of my boxer briefs wide open, exposing me, playfully looking down and barking OW OWWWW- then cackling like a maniac and snapping the elastic back against me.

“Okay-“ I trailed off abruptly as I scooped you up into my arms, letting you feel lithe and weightless before-

Throwing you onto our hotel bed.

You landed with a bounce and a squeal, resting on your elbows, looking up at me as I moved toward you.

“Wait-“ you blurted. “We skipped a part I really wanted.”

I watched you clamber off the bed, marveling at your frame as you landed on your knees before me.

You peeled the waistband of my underwear tenderly this time, tugging them down over my thighs and off. I was hard, heavy, the soft smooth flesh standing at attention, hovering at eye level and testifying to just how virile I’ve been feeling.

“Hi handsome.” You murmured softly before kissing his tip. Resting your plump lips pursed around his opening then looking up to make sure I was watching-

As you pushed your face down over me.

“Fuuuuuuck.”

The deep satisfaction in my voice was palpable. I’m sure it served as encouragement, but I could still feel you struggle, feel the slight strain as you endeavored to go deeper. Perhaps ambitious but determined.

You pulled up, gasping for air, your eyes sparkling with wetness. I watched you spit on my cock, with such matter of fact utility, and laughed to myself at the thought that barely twenty minutes ago you were the boss giving her big presentation to a conference room full of serious people and now you were-

“Holy FUCK.” I lost focus for a moment and came back to your lips hitting the base of me.

“Oh my GOD how the fuck do you do that?” You looked up at me and laughed, a low rumble through a mouthful of cock, that same glint of pride, then pulled back, releasing me and laughing your way through a satisfied gasp. You felt my hand on the back of your head and were maybe about to say something when you felt me pull you back down.

There was no struggle this time. No strain. My cock sunk into that pretty little mouth of yours with an ease.

I looked down and watched your eyes dim slightly- the way the lights in a plane cabin will do down when you’ve reached cruising altitude and you’re safe in the knowledge that someone else is at the helm.

I’m not entirely certain if there’s a “respectful” way to turn your pretty face into my personal fucktoy, but I endeavored to find it. I wasn’t greedy or mean. I didn’t push past your limits for the hell of it. But I did fall into a steady rhythm. The glucks and gasps soft at first then grew in intensity and volume.

I found myself wondering aloud- all those people who you just presented to, they were all staying at the same hotel weren’t they? Did we think any of them were on our floor? Next door? Would they recognize your voice?

That thought seemed to connect with you. Because I watched your hand move reflexively to your clit. Rubbing greedily as your throat slurped and gurgled away.

I pressed your head down, with a deep satisfied groan and my hips surged slow and relentless one final time, holding myself inside you, pushing your limits until…

I felt you truly yield. It was a loud, deep, slurpy gag. I eased up instantly- removing myself and lifting you into my arms as you gasped in recovery. Holding you tight, I cherished the messiest kisses in the world. Spit glazed down your chin and all over your tits. I did not call you a slut or degrade you. I wanted you to savor this feeling of being both treasured and claimed. Gulping for air and desperate for kisses all at once.

Your gasps gave way to laughter. Mostly in pride but partly in disbelief. Asking yourself holy shit did I really just do that? My eyes steadied you. Reassuring you that you were not a bad person and you did not have to turn in your feminist card just because you occasionally wanted to feel like someone’s favorite fucktoy.

I let my hands frame your jaw. Making sure your gaze fixed on mine. I needed this connection, this grounding. I kissed your forehead as you looked up into my eyes through some fuzzy haze.

My arms moved abruptly. Shoving you forward with enough firmness to make you squeal in surprised and delighted glee.

Your arms landed on the bed, so that you were standing, bent over.

You felt me reach forward and take your wrists, moving them so your hands rested on your ass.

Then you felt my hand on the top of your head, turning it steadily until your eyes found the mirror on the other side of the room.

It was the same mirror we stood before earlier.

Here we were again.

I wanted you to see yourself again. To see us. So that you could see my desire- burning in my eyes and surging in my cock.

“Spread.”

My voice parted the clouds in your mind.

Your eyes locked on mine. They hadn’t changed. That same joy and pride glowed. You weren’t broken or tamed. In fact you gave that same toothy grin you couldn’t contain when you first walked in.

I glanced down and saw your hands move with such measured obedience. You didn’t just pull at your cheeks. You arched your back. Pressed your chest down onto the comforter.

It was such a beautiful moment. I felt honored to get the witness it.

As your pretty little pussy

Transformed

Into a ripe little cunt.

I stooped suddenly. You saw in the mirror as I got down on my knees.

And drank deep of your nectar.

Taking a moment to draw your clit deeep between my lips. Latched on her and nursing.

“Ohhhh fuck you.” Your smile was infectious. Your voice was husky, rooted in your chest now.

I made you watch as I pulled back.

And spat on this juicy little cunt with the same flat, utilitarian verve you’d made me watch earlier.

I heard the gasp that elicited from your lips. And the playfully mused “Oh mah gawd…” as you thrilled at the sight and tried to remember if you’d ever watched someone spit on your pussy before.

“Okay now fuck me.” Your tone was so bright but losing patience. I looked at you in the mirror and smiled.

“Sorry I can stop talking.” I watched a brief rush of uncharacteristic self consciousness wash over you.

I stood. Let you watch me loom over you. Taking stock of our size difference.

As I rubbed the thick, powerful head of my cock over the gleaming mess that was once known as your vulva.

“What about our dynamic makes you think I don’t like listening to the sound of your voice?” I saw you smile. Then-

“FUCCCCCCKKK—“ we both bellowed in gutteral harmony as I entered you.

From there it was like the floodgates had opened. You were just as you were when you bounced in the room. You couldn’t shut up.

As I thunderclapped into you, with steady determination, letting the eager squelches of your hungry little cunt echo in the room and in the halls of the hotel-

You told me you adored the way I felt inside you. How I seemed to occupy every bit of available space. How the stretch was just- sooo so SO… so fucking good.

You rambled about how you were thinking about sucking my cock right before your presentation and wondered if anyone could tell.

You asked if you felt tighter. And admitted you’d been doing more kegels in the office while you answered emails.

You told me you had bragged to your friend about our last encounter. About the way you were surprised and a little embarrassed about squirting and appreciated the tenderness in how I’d reassured you.

You rambled about your childhood fascination with the hot fox from Robin Hood and wondered if the seeds of your submissive tendencies came from your crush on Captain Von Trapp from The Sound of Music.

You announced your first orgasm with a grunty bit of surprise, as if she’d snuck up on you.

“Oh fuck I’m cuhhh-“ was all you got out before I looked in the mirror and saw you go momentarily crosseyed and braindead.

I took the cue from the soft clenches inside you and steadied my pace, then pushed inside and just held myself firmly against your gspot. Letting your convulsions build as you shuddered and lost your train of thought. Hell, seemed to lose your mind.

You gasped as you felt it crest in your core then laughed as you made it to the other side.

When my hips only picked up the pace your face cracked into this beautiful, blissed out smile.

From there you were no less verbal but far less coherent. Mostly curses and pleas.

One phrase that stood out- sometime around the peak of your second orgasm- you blurted clear as day-

“FUCK THIS CUNT LIKE YOU OWN HER.”

Which… I’ll admit I’m not easily shocked, but that one surprised me. I imagined what someone hearing that coming through the walls of their hotel room might think.

I obeyed. Obviously. And fucked your very majestic vagina with a vigor and thoroughness that may not have suggested she was property, per se, but did assume responsibility for her care, well-being and upkeep.

As I thumped loudly away, I watched as my cock grew thick with the fresh cream of your well-fucked cunt. Churning your arousal to butter.

Transfixed by this wondrous little detail, my had gripped your asscheek, squeezing with unmistakable possessiveness. I don’t know what came over me but my thumb drifted over and just… massaged the rim of your taut, perky asshole. Teasing and caressing with such casual familiarity. As my thumb traced firm little circles there, the surprise seemed to get the better of you.

You announced you were going to cum again.

“Good girl.” Was my terse reply. Those words threatened to undo you. You felt my other hand wrap around your ponytail and yank, so that your head reared back like a freshly bridled mare.

Then the sharp smack of my hand on your ass made you clench down reflexively on me. It seemed to set off a chain reaction inside of you- the first domino to fall before everything collapsed. I felt the contractions building in intensity. Your body quivered and your legs gave out as I felt you tumbling over the edge.

It was in that moment I realized I’d been so focused on your body I’d lost track of my own.

It felt like waking up in a hurricane. Winds roiling. Waters raging. Every alarm inside me was blaring. Something was welling up from the deepest parts of me. It had already breached containment. I was about to cum too. I didn’t even have time to give you any warning I just suddenly grunted, in pure, feral lust and-

“Oh my-Holy SHIT dude” was all you managed to blurt when you felt that first massive spurt of cum hit your cervix. It didn’t let up. The warmth radiated into you. I’m pretty sure it overrode your reproductive system and triggered an automatic fourth orgasm on the spot but I can’t be sure. I was beside myself in beautiful agony, emptying everything I had, everything I ever was, into your womb.

I fell forward onto you. Lavishing kisses on your back and shoulders and neck in between gasps for air and laughs in spite of myself.

I curled my arms around your ribs so that I could hold you as we both let the desperate power of our orgasms subside.

As we caught our breath, there were no more words needed.

Just heartbeats.

And the soft playful echoes of us practicing our kegels together inside you.

😻

Your need is palpable.

It lingers thick in the air. I sense it when I walk in.

I would say I smell it, but that doesn’t feel entirely true. I don’t know if I can actually distinguish your pheromones as a scent I would recognize.

The way my body responds is deeper- your reproductive system sending a not-so-secret message to mine.

I feel him activate, as the heavy machinery that exists in my core roars to life, thrumming inside.

I find it funny that nothing about the way you present yourself to the world would suggest you’re submissive. You are confident, even brash. You project the sense that you don’t need anyone. You certainly don’t need a man.

And yet…

How is it that I am seeing through all that? How is it that your body has elected to transmit this strange hormonal telegram to me? Her message is somehow deeply vulnerable and uncomplicated. Hell, it’s only one word-

“Please.”

It’s a bit of a blur how we got here-

To one of my favorite places.

Foreheads touching.

Eyes locked on one another.

Breath hitched.

Stroking. Striking. Someplace deep in your core. Your pretty little pussy recovering from her first orgasm and already focused on her second.

—

I assume there was small talk. We’re both good at banter. The attraction is important but we’d have both had to make sure we are intellectual equals. It’s just not fun otherwise.

Your way of testing me was adorable. Asserting yourself, taking charge and making the first move. Seeing if I would yield to you.

You kissed me with force. Trying to project that you were ready to devour me.

Were you happy that I could sense your lie?

I’m curious what it felt like for you. Was it thrilling? Destabilizing?

I want to know when you knew.

When did you know that I was about to fuck you like I owned you?

Was it an obvious moment? Like when I pressed your back firm against the wall and drank deep of your kisses?

Was it smaller? Simpler? Could you feel it in the casual possessiveness of my touch? The way my fingers grazed over your hipbone as if they’d been there a thousand times before? As if they were home?

I know that the breastplay seemed to seal it. We’d barely kissed once when I pulled back to look deep in your eyes. Took your hand in mine and guided her to drag the delicate fabric of your dress down, exposing the ripe soft tissue of your breast to me. Presenting yourself for the taking in a way that I could tell both thrilled you and made you feel desperately self conscious. “Does he like my boobs? Are they big enough?” Such embarrassingly middle school thoughts but if we’re honest we all have them.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t lavish you with the praise you sometimes crave. I opted for something different.

I just made you watch as I opened wide

And latched.

Deep.

Deep enough to make you gasp and think “Fuck I did not realize that much of my tit could fit in a mouth.”

I felt your nipple perk against the roof of my mouth, near the back of my throat.

I felt your hips press forward into me. I felt this subtle but very deliberate opening of your legs. It felt like a blossoming.

I met that energy with a strong hand.

Firm and unafraid. Confident in where he belonged.

In what was his.

As your hips bucked softly.

As I nursed at your breast.

I held the entirety of your womanhood in the palm of my hand.

Only for a brief moment.

Deftly aware that soon she would need something steadier. Something thicker. To rub against.

I volunteered my thigh, and savored the soft purrs that spilled from your lips, as I felt your vulva trace a messy and unselfconscious trail across my thigh.

But after a while I knew you needed more.

I pulled you back into my lap. Sitting on your couch. Somehow not breaking my latch, aware of the way my suckling was absolutely flooding your brain stem with oxytocin.

I guided your hand down, to let you feel me. To let you behold my manhood in the same way I did with you. You stroked him eagerly. Thrilled at the weight in your hand. The potential of his power to unlock things in you.

Your mouth opened and words poured out. Words that surprised you. They certainly surprised me. Every pull of my lips nursing so authoritatively at your breast seemed to coax another delicious, vulnerable, true, shameless, wanton, wonderful thought from your mind.

You told me first, almost politely, that you wanted me to fuck you.

You told me that you wanted to feel yourself gag on my cock at least once. That the thrill of knowing you could deepthroat made you so fucking wet.

You told me you reallllllly reallllllllllly liked the way I sucked on your tits. Like holy fuck it was like there was a direct line between your nipple and your clit.

I felt you rub your little bundle of nerves impatiently as I let my mouth unravel your mind further.

Your voice changed. Got deeper. You got distinctly less polite. You started to demand that I fuck you.

I realized I was maybe being a little mean for making you wait.

My arms moved. Bending your lithe frame. Marveling at how immediately pliant and obedient your body was. In a matter of seconds, I had you on all fours, hips spread, face pressed down into your bed, arms behind your back.

Gazing down, admiring this gorgeous little mess you call a vulva, I rubbed myself along her puffy lips, glazing my precum along to mix in with your arousal. I listened to your breath go shallow as you anticipated us.

I let my fingers run up over your scalp, then curl into a fist. Pulling your head up

Just as I entered you.

My hope

Was that somehow in this moment

You felt like a woman with a capital W.

Somehow both admired, cherished,

and completely claimed all at once.

I was in absolutely no rush.

This sex was powerful, deliberate, and thorough.

I thumped into you.

Each move of my hips was calculated and intentional.

It was absolutely adorable how fast you came that first time.

Your face flushed. You looked overwhelmed. Maybe almost embarrassed. I quickly swooped down to kiss your forehead. To tell you how good that was. How amazing it felt when you came like a good girl.

And I looked in your eyes.

And asked if you needed a break or if you were ready for more.

That I had a hunch your need was deeper than this.

I’ll never forget the nod you gave. The little smirk.

And the way you offered yourself so completely for the taking.

I’m impressed by your power.

I feel like I say that a lot. Maybe too much.

I’d stop if it weren’t so true.

The elegance of your frame.

The speed of your mind.

The sparkle in your eye.

I find myself often in awe of you really. If I may be slightly vulnerable- I’m totally aware that you could crush me if you put your mind to it. You’re stronger than me, in your way. You’re definitely smarter than me, that’s not really in question. Your libido is unbridled. If anyone were to guess, they’d sooner assume you were a dominatrix than a submissive.

They would be deliciously wrong, wouldn’t they?

I really admire the way you carry yourself. You wield authority gently. I see that you’re not an asshole to your co-workers even when you would be fully justified for it. You’re so patient with your family, even when they don’t reciprocate your energy. You have such an awareness of the needs of everyone around you. It’s beyond feminine intuition or some maternal instinct. It’s just pure emotional intelligence. It is very fucking sexy.

And I know that all of that- keeping up that composure, showing up with grace-

is absolutely fucking exhausting.

And I’m honored that in those moments, when you feel on the verge of collapse, you seem to find your way into my arms.

I know there are lots of folks that crave a contrast in their relationship- the age gappers, size diff enthusiasts, daddy doms and their littles. I get it, I have no quarrel with any of them, but I place a lot of value in our equality. It’s a dance, isn’t it? It’s tennis, a spirited back and forth, a lively debate.

That’s what makes it so special when you come to me after a long day and say “Hi.”

By which you mean “I need to cum.”

You don’t need to say it out loud. I don’t need instructions. (Though I’m open to notes.) And I won’t ask questions, lord knows you’ve had enough with the choice fatigue.

Today I’m not even going to kiss you on the mouth to greet you. This doesn’t seem like a time for making out. The air is thick with your need.

I’ll spin you, playfully, like we’re dancing, then draw you into me. Your back pressed against my broad chest, your head falling back onto my shoulder, exposing that long stretch of neck.

That’s what I want. My mouth traces a greedy path over the sinew above your collar bone, lavishing her with kisses, nipping playfully, feeling the soft shudder in your spine.

My big hands explore you with an eagerness that betrays how much I’ve been anticipating this. I’ve been looking forward to it all damn day.

One hand frames your throat as I kiss your neck. The other moves down tracing fingers along your curves with a magnificent pressure, sparking skin to life wherever he roams.

When my hand finds his way to your breast, he doesn’t fondle, or caress. He grabs. Possessively. And holds.

Telepathically I’m sending one word to your mind-

“Mine.”

The way your breath catches in your throat confirms the message went through. And the delighted laugh coerces me to take another lingering bite at your neck, letting teeth scrape over skin, as your laugh gives way to a flat, blurted noise that signals a momentarily yielding of control of your vocal chords.

My hand drifts from your breast down over your tummy and presses assertively between your thighs. My long fingers trace their way past your clit and across your vulva, fingertip hovering somewhere near your perenium, just kind of… cupping her. Holding all of you. Your femininity in my hand. My palm rests on your mound and I press, causing you to jut your ass back against me.

My arousal is… not subtle. I’m currently, heavy, swollen and thick with need. He’s tracing his way down one pant leg, restrained by the taut fabric of boxer briefs. I feel you tip your hips slightly so that you can rub your vulva along his length.

At that move I bite at your earlobe, and mutter softly-

“I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

And my hands go to the small of your back, tipping you forward, bracing yourself on a countertop, you feel me trail a kiss over your shoulder as I settle behind you. Pulling your yoga pants down, I can immediately smell you, hazy and dusky, the humidity of you hits my nose like warm sea air. It flares my nostrils and sets nerve endings afire. My fingers peel your thong to the side, exposing your glistening lips to the cool air in the room.

“God she’s pretty,” you hear me murmur. And I notice the tiny reflexive clench she does as you can’t quite conceal your praise kink.

The moment I kiss your pussy elicits such a lovely exhalation from your chest. I don’t quite kiss so much as I make out with your vulva. Rubbing my face on her, savoring her warm puffiness and letting my tongue dance over your folds. Your lips glisten, you taste like you’ve been needing this. My hands move to your hip creases, fingers gripping at the little knobs of your hipbones, to get a little leverage and-

Pull

You back into me.

Yeah. I um… I need my face deeper in your cunt.

Please.

Thank you for obliging.

My tongue dips deep into you now and scoops out a warm mouthful of your arousal.

“Fuck you taste good.”

Is what I said. Whether or not it was unintelligible is another question. I’m nose-deep in your cunt after all and I’m not pulling back just so I can talk.

I feel you bend a bit deeper now and your legs spread slightly, your clit’s not-so-subtle way of calling out and saying “Hey pay attention to meeeeee.” (You can decide what voice is best suited for my impression of your clit 😻)

As you bend, you feel my lips drift down, following the pulse of your need.

And settle over your clit. I kiss her, let my tongue trace long slow rolling strokes over her, then let my lips curl, creating a healthy bit of suction-

And pull.

I fall into a steady, thrumming rhythm here-

Pull.

Like a tide rolling over a bayou.

Pull.

God she’s already so fucking swollen.

Pull.

So needy.

Pull.

Okay that one buckled your knees a little.

Pull.

It’s alright you can rest yourself back on my face. I’ve got a strong neck, I can take it.

Pull.

Ohp. I felt that clench.

Pullllll.

Oh fuck babe. I knew you were needy but I didn’t know it was this bad.

Pulllllllll.

That’s okay. Let it out. That’s what I’m here for.

Pull. Pull.

Cum babe.

Cum like the good girl we both know you are.

Cum all over my face.

The quiver is such a dead giveaway isn’t it? It’s not even your voice that I pay attention to, it’s the way your body gets sooooo fucking tense, every muscle clenching and spasming then just… releasing all at once.

Ugh. I really really like the way your orgasms taste. Is it weird that if I go all day without tasting one that I miss it? There’s kind of a buttery ripeness? I don’t know, I’m not gonna try and describe the taste exactly. But when you cum and my tongue is inside you, it centers me. Like steadies my heartbeat in my chest, and sends this surge of energy coursing through my body.

I get this… kind of insufferable urge to push inside you while you’re still cumming? Like just catch the last waning moments as it rolls through your core.

I move with some expediency, you hear my belt unbuckle and my zipper open. Glancing up in the mirror you might see me pull my shirt off. Rubbing the thick head of my cock against your pulsating opening, I place a hand expectantly in front of your mouth.

I used to have to give an instruction, even issue a demand here, but you’re well-trained by now.

You spit into my palm with such unselfconscious zeal, seeming to relish the noise your mouth makes. I stroke your offering over my length, giving him a quick lather just enough to-

FUCK—

Jesus Christ, I don’t know how but it always catches me off guard how good it feels to push inside you bare. I catch maybe just the last little kegely aftershock of your orgasm but immediately start you careening toward another as I insinuate myself deeep into your guts.

Reaching forward, my hand clasps over your shoulder for leverage. I bend to plant a kiss between your shoulder blades, then another on your neck. Making it up to your ear.

“You take me like much a good girl…”

My hips surge on that last bit, punctuating those magic words as I feel you clench, your pretty little pussy gripping with all her might to keep from being overwhelmed.

“Fuuuuuck. How are you so tight?!”

My voice is a playful rumble in your ear. You feel the thump of my balls against your throbby little clit as my hands move to your waist. Thumbs digging into the dimples on your low back, fingers curling around to your hip bones. The pressure pushes your back to arch a bit more, perking your ass up and—

“Ohp. There she is. There’s my girl.”

It’s as though something blossomed inside you, this slight repositioning is your body’s way of just… greeting me with your cervix.

I quit the thumpy nonsense for a moment and just hold myself there. Stopping to say a proper hello. Connecting our spirits. Feeling our pulses steady and fall into sync, connected in this strangest of ways.

I flex a nice kegel while inside you, and it makes my cockhead rub slowly up and down the length of your cervix, that move also makes him burp out a thick drool of precum. I’d apologize for my rudeness, for making a mess of your throne room, but I don’t suspect you mind.

It’s funny I don’t think I actively have any urge to conquer you. Because I think so much of that language suggests you are somehow being defeated.

And I’ll tell you, resting here for a moment and feeling your heartbeat through the robbing surface of your cervix… you feel anything but defeated.

Your power is palpable. Your strength undeniable.

And though I have no thirst for conquest, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t deliciously fun when I’m able to flip the switch that sends you into full fucktoy mode. And something about that slather of precum on your most vulnerable spot seems to have triggered that.

I feel you spread wider, push back against me, demanding more.

I’m happy to oblige.

My hand loops casually through your wild mane. I ball my fist, setting every nerve ending in your scalp on fire.

“You need to cum don’t you babygirl?”

My hips thump into your core again, feeling the pressure as you slam back against me with every stroke. You grunt a stupefied “uhhuh” under your breath. I’m apparently in a mood. My arms flex, pulling your torso up so that I can whisper in your ear, moving your body like the bendy plaything you are.

“Say it.”

The sound of my cock splurching into your needy little cunt is gorgeous and filthy.

“Say what you want.”

I look into the mirror and see your eyes lock on mine. You summon a brief bit of courage, not that you’ve ever lacked it.

“I want to cum with you.”

“Louder.”

“I want us to cum together.”

“As you wish.”

My hips swim into with a speed and relentlessness that makes you go limp in my arms. My hand holds you up by your hair, and just as I can feel the orgasm welling up deep inside you-

My other hand goes to your neck.

Holds your throat. Absolutely possessing you. Mind. Body. Soul.

The orgasm is like a storm. I lose track of myself as I feel you start to cum, and I let go too. My whole body convulses, lurching as I unleash some unknowable fury that I have kept bottled up all day. I barely keep my wits about me enough to hold you tight and not drop you.

This orgasm… feels juicy. Which sounds odd, but there’s a richness to it, full-bodied and ornate. I feel a soft gush spill from between your thighs and wonder how much of it is you and how much is me, not that it matters.

I practically collapse, holding you tight, feeling the aftershocks as you flex around me. Kissing your shoulders again.

Come to bed with me, babe.

I’m overwhelmed and need to cuddle after that.

There are some mornings where we simply don’t need words.

You’re ovulating. I’m in the midst of my own seasonal hormonal surge.

The air in our bedroom is thick with pheromones.

I wake to your soft muffled cry. Half sigh, half moan. Opening my eyes I notice you’re on your belly, grinding your hips firmly down into the mattress.

My breath goes shallow watching you, you hear me shift in the sheets. You toss your head back my direction, hair wild and tussled, and the look in your eyes…

Just wow.

Your pupils are dilated, giving them a feline, feral look. But it’s not a hunger I see in your eyes.

It is raw, unbridled lust.

It’s mating season after all. You stare at me, barely acknowledging me. Not blank, just busy. Engrossed, one might say, in your spirited bed humping.

I notice your hips quiver and your breath rattle. You let out one loud blurted grunt as your hips bear down forcefully.

There is nothing performative about this orgasm. Nor does it even seem especially deep or pleasurable. It’s fast and almost perfunctory, your body maintaining some sense of equilibrium so your own hormones don’t eat you alive.

I’m used to the way you laugh right after you cum, gleeful and giddy and also playfully self-conscious. Like “can you believe did I really just did that?”

But this time there’s no laughing. Or if there is it’s a muted “Heh.” It seems that orgasm is just the preamble. Your morning needs far from sated.

You dig a hand down between your thighs and then lift it, rubbing your fingers in my face, slathering me in your yolky essence.

The ripe scent of your fertility crosses the blood brain barrier faster than any drug ever could. It’s a headrush that sets my reproductive system into overdrive. You glance down as we can both see my cock surge to attention, growing from swollen and heavy to twice his size and brimming with power.

I look into your eyes. Again, no words. You just give a slow, hormone-drunk nod.

Reaching over I run fingers through your hair, gathering it into a ponytail at the back of your head, then using that as a handle, guide you down my body. We both slept naked after we fucked all night.

Your eyes gaze up at me as you spit on my cock, then sink your mouth down onto me. What you’re doing… could not really be described as a blow job. You and I both seem acutely aware that in our heightened hormonal state, I have no interest in your mouth.

This is about lubrication.

I watch you sink to the barrier at the back of your throat, then nod, letting me know you’re ready. My hand guides you firmly, pushing you past your limit, triggering your gag reflex with a soft gluck that causes your whole body to lurch and convulse gently.

I release the pressure and let you up for air. Your mouth spills forth the thickest saliva from the back of your throat. You stroke it once then twice, rubbing it like fine oil into the warmth of my cock flesh.

Ponytail still in hand I help guide you to all fours. Spreading deep, arching your back at that perfect angle, loop your hair once around my fist. I’m aware of your power. Of the force and ferocity you contain in your lithe frame. I don’t mount you lightly. You are a wild creature, one who cannot be tamed but will yield occasionally to a rider that is steadfast and tender.

I glance down and marvel at the ovulation mess that glazes your labia. Your vulva ripe and puffed, as if she’s expecting company.

I push inside and we both relish the groans from each other, a duet of lust and desire. No words. Not even a blurted curse. Just growls and purrs and roars.

With one hand in your hair, my other frames your hips, tugging slightly to pull you into me, giving that extra little sensation of thumping into your very core with every thrust.

I’ve always complimented how bendy and pliant you are, both in body and mind. And feeling the way you take every thrust and spread wider takes my breath away. I’m in awe of what a powerful machine your mind is, how you carry yourself with such elegant authority. Yet here in our bed, in this moment, you are content to release all that control. To hand it over to me. The only thought currently echoing in your mind is “i know he’s found my cervix, but I wonder if I can take him deeper…”

That’s obviously just a guess. I’m not a mind reader, but I’m deducing it from the way you’re reaching back and letting your long nails scratch across the smooth flesh of your asscheek, trying to spread just a little bit wider.

That won’t get me any deeper, but I know what will-

I take your hand in mind and guide it around to your front. We take a lingering pause on your low belly, on your womb, feeling the soft shake of bodies as I thud away inside you. Then I push your hand further, your fingers frame your labia and it causes you to arch your back slightly more.

Now THAT gives me an extra inch, shifting the head of my cock to your anterior fornix.

I feel your fingers give in to the urge to rub your swollen clit. The combination unlocks something in you and we both feel a sudden orgasm hit like a flash flood. My fist tightens in your hair, holding you fast, letting you know that I’m not slowing down, that I intend to fuck you straight through this orgasm and right into the next one.

You bellow another deep grunt, and your back arcs the other way, going from cat to cow as your belly scoops in, your diaphragm empties and your fists clench the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto. I scoop both arms under your body, one forearm binding your breasts, the other supporting your low belly, as we both feel the tremors of your orgasm rage within.

Your breathing shallows and steadies, your entire body seems to buzz like a tuning fork.

It’s in this moment- in the tenderness of your cumdrunk compliance, that I want to plant my seed in you.

My arms move deftly, betraying the ferocity of my desire, scooping you up, lowering you down to take the entirety of my length, so that we are sitting in lotus position. Two spirits communing, meditating on the very nature of fertility. Your legs curl around me and we can both feel a kind of opening up inside you, some unexpected softness as your body yields space to me, knowing that some most elemental function of our evolution is about to be fulfilled. My hips move with steady determination. I can feel the yolky essence on your labia turning to cream, then churning to that smooth butter of arousal as thrusts thump away into your clenchy core.

I feel your nails dig into my back and your breath hitch in your throat. Your pussy gives my cock one steady, uncontrolled grasp as I realize you’re about to cum on me again. I’m not thinking “that was fast” nor teasing, not taunting or coaxing. I’m just in this moment. And the convulsion that serves as the opening salvo to your orgasm gives me permission to join in.

I sweep your hair off your brow, let my hands frame your face. The noises our bodies make are absolutely vulgar as we thump away at each other. I may be a wild fucking animal in this moment, but I still want to look you in the eyes and kiss you as I cum inside you. I need that.

To say this release is primal is an understatement. Our lips lock and I growl an aggressive and plaintive purr into your mouth. A noise that unmistakably tells you that I’m about to cum.

You feel it. The forcefulness and the heat as it floods you. I must be quite pent up, because it’s quite… splattery? Is that gross? We can both feel it splash and splurch against your tender cervix.

Lips still locked. Our kiss hungry and steadfast. Grounding ourselves against an overwhelming riptide.

I feel my orgasm begin to subside inside you. The somatic experience of our fluids intermixing and trickling along my soft flesh inside you.

I pull away from the kiss for a moment so that I can look into your eyes. And in that moment I utter the first words between us today.

“Good morning.”

You smile and I feel you clench me with a fierce little kegel as if to say “don’t you dare pull out.”

I reassure you by resting your head on my broad chest. Sitting back into bed. I kiss your forehead and welcome you to doze off, to fall asleep as the aftershocks of my orgasms echo in your depths.

I feel your hand drift subconsciously back to your low belly, savoring a soft bloat, the ever so slight distention that comes after the kind of sex we just enjoyed.

I feel your breath deepen.

And before I know it you’ve fallen asleep on my chest, while linger inside you.

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.