A Perfect evening

I've been seeing Jestin for over a year now. Like clockwork we started meeting every Saturday night. Pretty quickly it became clear to me that once a week wasn't going to be enough. 

The more I saw him, the better the sex would get. I began to slowly offer him suggestions how he might be better able to make me cum. He began to slowly incorporate the ideas into our evenings together.

Every time I'd make a carefully framed and phrased suggestion and he not only accepted it but put it into action the more I shared. These days I have little of importance to say about his skills in bed because he's so capable of making me cum so easily.

I don't hesitate anymore to tell him how much I appreciate him, his body, his touch. I don't tell him how much I appreciate his mind, though I do. It's the one thing I keep to myself. I don't want him to know, though I'm sure he can tell. Without the words, without telling him how much he means to me he'll never really be sure. And I'll never have to face his rejection of me in that way. 

Instead, I get to enjoy the taste and feel of his mouth on mine, this forever gentle hands sliding tenderly over my skin, treating me like someone delicate. His tongue on my clitoris, licking and sucking so I cum over and over. I get to feel the usually slow push of his long, thick, hard cock into my aching pussy.

His cock is so perfect, too. Uncut so when he thrusts into me there's the extra glide and without the friction-- a unique sensation I can't fake with a dildo. The thickness of it fills me just a little more than I'd have ever chosen for myself but suits me perfectly. The length pushing passed my cervix into the deepest part of my pussy. A feeling unlike anything I've felt before. It doesn't hurt at all, just massive pressure and pleasure. 

Friday I left early to meet him so I could spend the extra hours in his bed. And I did, wrapped his arms, my mouth wrapped delightfully around his cock, his hands between my legs. Getting to spend so many hours-- 6? Delighting in the feel of his body against my own.

Jestin makes me feel everything I've ever dreamed of. Snuggling into his arms, having his breath on my neck is everything.

Sniffing around

 DB had reached out to me a few times in recent months. I'm under the impression despite a lack of actual wedding photos appearing on his Facebook that he somehow found a wife during the pandemic. He had some things labeled honeymoon and he's not the type to mislabel. 

I don't know her, of course. I don't want to. Looking at her I find myself confused by his choice. She won't be giving him the babies he wants so badly. Knowing him, she's also not the horny, kinky, adventurous slut I am.

I assume it's the latter that brings him back to messaging me. He mentions our nights. I withhold so much of the desire I can't help but feel for some of those days. He asks me how I'm doing now. I say nothing of the man I've been seeing, of the fantastic, orgasmic sex I've been having.

I have to give credit to DB. He blew my mind from the first time I crawled into his bed. He made me cum and cum that first night.

But here I am now, seeing Jem and having my mind blown regularly. He's not kinky, but he is attentive and kind. Where DB was often selfish in his desires, despite this amazing ability to please me, Jem is anything but selfish. 

I cannot begin to express how much I appreciate that since I told him how much I love having his hands on me that he does his best to always touch me while I'm in his room.  His hands on my body are everything and he treats me like it. 

I'm happy with what I have now. DB will always be special but Jem is so much more and so very real. I'm so grateful for him. 

Teaching a man how

 MJ has been keeping me busy on my Saturday nights. I think we've missed one since we first met. It sucked. I still look back at it with regret.

He and I had a lot of fun from the beginning. There is a reason I continue to go see him. Ban "in the olden days" most men maxed out at 3 months and then I'd get bored. With MJ I admit I feel a little restless. I do miss the unique naughtiness of being at the swingers club. The freedom and nudity and fun sexual exploration. But good God damn. I can't even consider giving up my weekly play with MJ.

His mouth, his cock. And now, his fingers. I've asked him a couple of times to finger me. Not being very pushy about it. And then I got pushy. And with my pushiness, he discovered how to make me cum over and over until I am satisfied.

We're gradually making adjustments. 

Amateur Hour

 It's been a very long time since I've been truly active on this blog. In the last decade I've become much busier with real life. Work, family, pets, volunteering, creating, doing other work, and having a ton of sex. I sit down on my couch and think "I need more time in my day" so I don't feel like I have time to blog. Why blog when I can be doing?

But, every so often I come back and read some of my old posts and it makes me glad that I took that time. I used to blog all the time. I used to keep a diary. I've done neither, though I've tried to start keeping a bullet journal as an alternative. But how do I keep a wonderful sex blog in a bullet journal I occasionally share with others at work? Maybe I need a code. 100 years from now someone will be looking at my old bullet journal and they'll wonder what amazing things I've hidden in my bullets only to discover it was just me getting fucked.

There's something that amuses me about keeping a sexual history amongst my work to do lists.

Meanwhile, MJ encouraged me to write more. I think I shared some older entries with him. Maybe he just wants to be remembered, by me or others. Knowing his sexual prowess is commemorated somewhere.

Meanwhile, I've discovered the creator side of blogger doesn't seem to be very conducive of finding other bloggers "like me." Real people having real sex. I love amateur porn and I guess I love it in memoir form, too.

Part of me is tempted to take on some of the things larger bloggers do. Sex toy reviews, mostly. I have a fair number. And maybe some time I'll write something about my favorites (magic wand, anyone)? But I still prefer the realness of sharing my day to day sex life and I'll stick to that. So I guess this blog won't be making me rich. Oh well. 

The Next One

 I met MJ online. He was one of many hopefuls that have messaged me, but for whatever reason his message was one of the least offensive at the time. I told him he lived too far away... but I might make an exception.

I looked at his images, one his nearly naked body--thinner and taller than I like but not something I was going to worry about. The physical matters so much less to me now than it once did. The second photo was his hard cock.

I'm not the kind of girl who likes dick pics, unless I'm friendly with the dick already. But in this case I was grateful he included it.  Large without being looking fake or disturbing.  And uncut. A combination I desperately wanted to enjoy.

I've never been a size queen. I don't need a big cock. But having spent the majority of quarantine occasionally hooking up with a man with a small cock that has difficulty getting hard and cums way too quickly I was ready to go a very different direction. I needed to be fucked. The one night stand I'd recently had involved a guy who stayed nicely hard but wasn't that big. I wanted to be filled. MJ was going to give that to me and a little more.

I have become more reluctant to hook up with men my age due to finding out how many of them have trouble getting or staying hard or who can only cum once and they're done for the day. However, something told me to take the chance and I'm so glad I did.

I think it took about a week for us to match up our schedules the first time. But that first time more than made up for all the months of disappointment up until then. I was a little afraid of MJ's cock because it is so large and I'm not used to that. But he was gentle and kind and attached his mouth to my pussy until I came a few times before he even tried to enter me. 

That man knows how to use his tongue. Teasing and living my clit until I'm on the edge of orgasm before sucking it into his mouth while I shake and arch my hips toward the pleasure.  I came twice that way and was on the edge of a third when he started to move away. I know I reached my hand toward him to stop him from abandoning me, letting it fall back against the bed in disappointment. But he saw my distress and wrapped his lips back around my clit giving me that orgasm I had nearly lost.

He moved back over me, then and asked if he could kiss me. I didn't answer, pulling his wet mouth down to mine, tasting and smelling my arousal on him.

He got a condom at some point and put it on before he nestled his cock head between my legs and began the shallow, slow pushes that would open my pussy to his length.  I don't remember it hurting at all. I remember feeling myself stretch to accommodate his girth but it wasn't painful, just different.  I don't know if he pushed all the way inside until he was buried balls deep or if he realized he might be too much and held back. I just know it felt amazing to have him inside me.

And like a trope in a bad romance novel I discovered just having his cock inside me was enough to make me cum. The muscles in my pussy would twitch with pleasure and anticipation and the feel of his thickness defying the clenching sent me into orgasm. 

I pushed him out more than a few times, cumming over and over as he'd push back inside me. He discovered if he pushed his cock all the way in as I started to cum he could stay inside. He later told me when he was all the way inside and I came he felt like I was pulling him deeper instead of pushing him out.

He pulled out a few times, getting up to get water, mostly, keeping himself from cumming before he was ready. He did eventually allow himself to cum, fucking me in a dozen or so short strokes until his cock erupted.

I lay there afterward feeling amazing but nowhere near sated. I wanted and needed more. But experience told me I should be grateful for how very much I got and that I should stop thinking about how much I needed to find someone to keep up with me.

And then he did it again. I was more sore that time, feeling the burning pressure of him stretching my pussy to take his generous cock a second time. The pain quickly abated and I have myself over to the pleasure his body offered mine.

I left his place in the wee hours, tired, used, and utterly content that I had been successfully and gratifyingly fucked just the way I needed.

It wasn't until the next day that my pussy let me know in no uncertain terms that while it had enjoyed meeting MJ it was not used to having visitors, let alone ones who, uh, pushed the furniture around.

Ending the dry spell

 I finally managed to end my dry spell with a cute 26 year old. Thankfully for my own discrimination he had a look of a man of indeterminate age. He was not very shy. I tend to spend a little more time talking and let things happen fairly naturally. He was not interested in waiting. He made the first moves.

It wasn't amazing. It was a nice way to end the dry spell. He surprised me with his natural dominance in bed, at one point I was on top of him and grabbed his hands, using them as leverage and teasing him "I'm in control now." "Oh, yeah?" He asked before spreading his arms wider forcing me to drop closer to him. I'm sure the look on my face was priceless.

At some point while I was with him he mentioned me coming back the following week.  In reality, we texted back and forth a couple of times before he told me he was having a busy week. I don't need to beg a man for attention so I left things up to him. It was a month before he texted me again.

I didn't waste much more than a passing thought on him the next weekend, disappointed by his lack of contact but happy to look for someone more responsive. Lucky for me, there are plenty of willing men in the area and maybe even a few dozen of those I find both physically and mentally attractive. 

It was maybe another week before I decided to meet my next prospect in person. 

Favorite Moments

Keith's cock nestling against my ass crack while he rubbed my back. It was more about his cock than about the back rub.

DB's kisses. The passion and longing and affection.

The marine's... naked perfection. His confidence. His cock.

The feel of Jared's cock finding that one spot inside me making me beg him to not stop what he was doing. The intense pleasure that became one of the most intense orgasms I've had from being fucked.  Oh the magic of that cock.

What's his name's magic mouth. The first man to make me cum. Oh, that mouth.

So many others with those perfect moments I hope I never forget. 

That was the end

 DB moved far away. We tried to get together a few times. He got sick so we cancelled. And then the entire world got sick.

I'd just started seeing a new man. Not really my type. But I needed someone. "This isn't going to happen if you're a bad kisser" I warned him, not at all convinced this was a good idea.  Every time my mind wanders back to the marine I kissed, once; his tongue was a dead fish in my mouth, stuck into mine a hard, jutting muscle of stillness. 

Mark, it turns out, could kiss. And so it wasn't long before we were naked. I was still nervous. His mouth on my clitoris quickly broke through that feeling to bring up stronger, more pleasant sensations. 

Now, every time he invites me to spread my legs so he can run his tongue over that sensitive spot I find myself so grateful that I took a chance and that he is a good kisser. Better than I imagined, my pussy assures me as it starts to ache, remembering.

He knows me

"Do you want me naked or dressed?" he asked via text.

"Naked." I shot back.

When I got there, he didn't disappoint. Naked. Hard as a rock.

I threw myself at him, still dressed, wanting to feel him and taste his mouth. As quickly  as I could. I shed my dress, my bra, my leggings, quickly as naked as he was. I sucked his delightfully hard cock into my mouth. 

He lets me have my way with his body, enjoying the taste of his cock on my tongue before I move back up to kiss him deeply. I snuggle in close as his fingers slide between my pussy lips. He's learned to enjoy teasing me just a bit. His fingers make endless circles, not entering, just rubbing against the my opening. He's learned with a little bit of patience he can make me desperate this way, bucking my hips against him fighting for the orgasm I can feel building.

The storm

He has a view across the valley from his apartment. The sunsets are stunning, sometimes. Tonight we saw the flashes of lightening to the South so I stepped out onto the deck to watch the show. The storm made it's gradual trek North, the light misty rain hitting parts of my skin now and again. We watched as the storm drew closer. The rain changing from the mist to a violent downpour, lightening strikes going from distant flashes on the horizon to visible bolts to blinding flashes followed quickly by thunder loud enough to make me jump.

"This is the best storm I've ever witnessed" I said, excitedly.

"Shall we see how much better we can make it? If I can make you cum with the thunder and lightning?" He asked, knowing there was no need for me to answer.

His fingers found their way under my dress, moving between my thighs. I spread my legs so he had better access and he took full advantage. I felt his finger tips against my clitoris and inhaled sharply, my body responding quickly to his touch, as usual.

I struggled to keep my eyes open and focused enough to take in the show in front of me, even as I felt the little shocks of pleasure he was creating in my body. It didn't take long before the first orgasm hit me, I bit my lip, my moan barely more than a breath.

He continued playing with my clit bringing me to orgasm after orgasm, each one building on the last until I forgot myself. The storm occasionally reminding me of its presence by the rumbling I could feel and the flashes I could see behind my closed eyelids.

He  pushed fingers deep inside me. The change have me a moment of clarity that we were there, on the balcony in what was occasionally full light and that maybe someone might suspect what we were doing. Even more obviously, I realized, I had grown much louder as the orgasms became stronger. Even if no one looked, anyone could hear me wordlessly, but not silently, expressing my pleasure.

However, the welcome assault on my clit quickly resumed and I forgot everything again, lost in the fury of the storm around us and the intensity of the pleasure he was giving me.

While my clitoris eventually gave out, becoming too sensitive to touch, the storm continued for several hours. I don't doubt it is the most spectacular storm I will ever experience and I'm grateful to him for sharing it with me.

I still love him

I don't feel as introspective as I once did.  Sometimes I just don't want to think about things that much. Sometimes I want to live in the moment. And sometimes I just can't bring myself to sit down and type. It's kind of amazing how much typing I used to do and how much I avoid it now.

My boy broke up with me a few months ago. He told me he didn't see marriage in our future, which is, of course what he wants. I was more than willing to give up everything for him. But he decided he didn't want it.

It didn't take long before I was back in his bed. This isn't the first time we've broken up, of course. Or even the most painful break up. And it won't be our last. We're not "together" anymore. But, honestly, I couldn't feel closer to him than  I do now. When he let me go, I was finally able to "let go" too. I didn't need to hold back or pretend to be someone I'm not. I can be wholly honest about how I feel and who I am and if he doesn't like it, tough luck.. There's not so much on the line anymore.

The biggest problem is that the sex is FANTASTIC, even to this day, a year and a half after we first met. I thought the best I could manage would be a few months before I got bored. Somehow I've never been in a sexual relationship that didn't get boring after 3 months. This one shows no sign of stopping.

Now, it helps that my boy is a kinky bastard who has taken great pleasure in sharing his kinks with me and letting us both try them out together. Things I never imagined I would enjoy.  The most recent being strangling.  Yeah. I'm not even kidding.

There's something about being strangled and waking up in the middle of a hard fucking that is unbelievably hot. I've never experienced anything like it in my life, before this. And in that moment I'm out, I have the quickest dreams. Today, I dreamt he told me he still loved me. And as I woke up with him inside me, bringing me some of the most intense pleasure I have ever felt, I couldn't help but convince myself it was true.

I still love him. But he doesn't still love me, if he ever did.

He loves me

And he shows me in ways I never expected. If he uses up something I bought... finishes my cheese, my margarita mix... He replaces it. Without being asked.

If I tell him sometime is a problem, like lack of flossing... he starts.

I love him.

Since Then

With our affection finally out in the open, between us, we've been more free to share our lives with one another. DB has become an important fixture, though the relationship is turning out to be a bit of a mine field.  Neither of us know how to actually connect with one another the way we should be able to. There are misunderstandings and fear throughout.

Meanwhile, I still have a husband. The marriage is becoming increasingly strained, of course. Not because of DB but because of my realization that "at my age" I should probably make a decision whether I want to spend the next 20 years in the same sexless relationship I'm in now. That's a big question and one I'm taking to a therapist to discuss.

It's funny how this question came up so many years ago. "Leave him" people told me (online). This won't get better.  Well, they weren't wrong.

So much has happened

Now that DB is back in my life things have become a bit different. He's continued to threaten to leave me, but with less vigor than before. I forget if it was the first time we were together or perhaps the second. I was on top of him, perhaps partially clothed, kissing him like my life depended on it. Like I knew he was going to leave and I had to make sure he knew what a bad idea it would be. Like my kisses could show him how I felt and put everything on the table without words.

We talked between deep kisses and I don't remember how it happened but he told me "say it." I looked at him surprised and only somewhat confused.  "Say it," he said again. I looked deep into his eyes and I knew what he wanted.

But I couldn't do it. I shook my head and told him "No."

"Say it" he repeated.

"No!" I told him no emphatically, "I won't say it! It serves no purpose. It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything."

Derek stared at me, not saying anything, his face impassive. "Say it." He said, yet again.

I felt the tears starting to well in my eyes. "Why would you make me say it? It will only make you leaving me hurt so much more." I paused for a moment and said "You know, fine.... I love you." And then I felt the tears spill down my cheeks.

"I love you, too" He whispered and kissed me again.

DB Came Back

DB let me know he was single and available again. I was exhilarated and impatient. It took an extra 2 days for us to get our schedules synced.

So I went to see him for the first time in two months. I parked in the lot and watched him go up to his apartment. He was later than he was supposed to be. I sat down in my car contemplating the stupidity of what I was about to do.

He already told me he was going to leave me again. I know I'm going to hurt from it. I told myself I wouldn't let my heart get all wrapped up in him again.

I finally got the courage and went up to his apartment door. He let me in and stepped aside to finish with his food, not reaching for me or pressing any kind of attention. He got very close briefly and I told him to brush his teeth which he immediately did.

I laid down on his bed and he finally joined me, wearing his boxers and t shirt. I was in a t-shirt, bra, jeans, and panties. He was gentle, though not shy. Afraid of what I might not let him do. "This feels like our first date," he said.

I laughed and pulled his mouth down on mine, "Not a first date at all.". When we finally broke our kiss he couldn't help but point out to me that we had sleep together on our first date.

What followed was exactly the sort of thing I was afraid I would experience. Our chemistry is intense. He looks at me, kisses me, and fucks me like he's in love. The intimacy is remarkable.

He presses his entire body against me, not lazily but clearly seeking the closeness that I crave. He kisses me as I come. Here lets me hold him tight and close. I kiss his temple, his cheek, and his ear. I run my fingers through his hair.

And I think "my God, why doesn't he understand how special this is?!" And later, when he finally dozes off cuddled in my arms after we murmur random things to one another, I can't help but think he must know.

As a rule I don't fuck married men. I am deeply opposed to lying and therefore cheaters pretty much get wiped off the table. Now, that's not always been the case. My morals have been looser at times than they are now. But, it's a rule I made years ago and generally follow with rare exception. Now, there are exceptions to my "no marrieds" rule. Namely, if they're not cheating. Men who are in open relationships/swingers are fair game. Particularly if they're able to demonstrate that they are, in fact, not cheating and their wife knows what's up.

Specific examples of this would be men who are at the local swinger's club. Particularly with their wives.  Done and done.  I am sure there are a few marrieds to come in without their spouse knowing, but if I don't know it either I guess it doesn't hurt me much. At least, not through any fault of my own.

Now, before I get into the story I should also add that as much as I like to say (as above) that my decision to avoid married men is a moral superiority on my part the fact is the real reason I don't fuck married men is because they are, as a rule, terrible in bed. As with all rules there are exceptions. But in my experience they are few and far between. Since I only have my experience to base these things on and it is only my experience that matters in this case, I'm actually pretty firm about the rule with the above noted exceptions.

So, having lost DB and needing some new excitement in my life I ended up chatting up a nice, reasonably attractive man on adult friend finder. He was respectful and friendly and for some reason I felt very, very comfortable with him very quickly. As such, the next day when I mentioned my plans to go to the local swingers club, he let me know that he'd been planning to go to and would be happy to join me.  Generally I have a rule about not bringing people I don't know into the club. I don't want to be the girl that brings drama. But for some reason he seemed really normal and respectful and I decided to take him with me.

He ended up picking me up and we headed to the club. He was much thinner than I thought he would be, and slightly taller. Not bad looking. But not the kind of guy I'd normally look twice at. We checked in at the club and then waited for orientation.  I've been through orientation but they've since updated their orientation with a new video and I was curious how it differed from my previous orientation a year ago.  Plus, this one was put on by the owner of the club so I was very curious.

We ended up in a room where I was the only woman in a room of 9 men (until the owner came in). I rather liked that. Some of them were hot. Some of them not so much. But the few that were hot were super hot and most of the rest were a little above average when it comes to attractiveness. It was particularly nice because I ended up getting to talk to pretty much all of them and started forming a bit of a bond. "I could fuck most of these guys!" I thought.

Ultimately, we went through the entire orientation and tour and then went to hang out while I talked him through the entire thing. He was clearly nervous sitting there with me, not so much because of me but because of the environment. He admitted it was actually a pretty nice venue and the vibe was way more relaxed than he expected it to be. But neither of us made any moves and we talked for a long time.

I finally dragged him back to the "voyeur" area where it was a little quieter and we sat on the couch and chatted with each other and the monitors who were chilling in the area with us. He finally started to relax and got a little more touchy feely with me when one of the women came over and started working to seduce one of the regulars at the club. She is maybe averagely attractive give or take depending on your preferences-- but she has a directness and lack of shame that everyone finds appealing.

She caught his attention and it made him hard and ready. We sucked into a private area where he freed his cock from his underwear. I swallowed it eagerly until he came for me. And then we left....

Lost

Unexpectedly, DB's vanilla girlfriend who "wanted to take it slow" made the first move and they ended up in bed. His decision, well known to me, was that once he fucked her he wouldn't fuck me anymore. So with her move, I lost him.

It's been a hard few days. First, going through the despair that I would never get to talk to him again or see him at all. And of course, knowing that the source of my greatest orgasms was thoroughly taken away from me, never to happen again. That was tough. I cried. I cried for two days. I want to cry now.

I've begun to heal, of course. I knew this was coming and I know I can find someone else out there who will touch me in such wonderful ways. Maybe I won't fall in love with him but I will certainly get to enjoy all the sexual freedom I had with DB. And hopefully more.

Nothing to lose

Because he's leaving me, I really have nothing to lose with him anymore. I'm free to do or say whatever makes me happy, knowing if it alienates DB it just means less dragging out of the end of our relationship. Less pain for me, really.

I'm working on some self-help kind of things, listening to music that will help me get through, practicing guided meditation to get over all this. I even talked to one of my friends who by virtue of being a sounding board reminded me that I can't keep DB anyway. No matter how much I want him.

And so, bit by bit, I'm showing my real self to DB. The neurotic parts. The clingy, needy girl who hungers for love and attention. All the parts that I know he's denied exist. And then he'll be gone without regret.

I'm slowly peeling away the shiny chromed out veneer and forcing myself to look at the rusted, dirty parts. And before I know it my love for DB will be replaced by the disappointment and blankness that is so familiar.

Since DB is leaving me, I've been looking for his "replacement." Now, I think we both know that I think he's irreplaceable. But I digress.

There's a man I've been with a few times. We have decent chemistry. I think he, like most men, likes how much I come, these days. But I'm not *that* into him. There's are a lot of things I like about him and the sex. And a handful I don't. The chemistry is quite nice. But he's not really quite what I'm looking for.

So I keep looking. And it's not an easy search. Especially because I can't count on DB to break up with me at any particular time. It cold be days or weeks or even months. But it's inevitable, just as it was when we first started seeing each other.

Of course DB is leaving me...

DB had found himself a vanilla girl. They've gone out twice. I think tomorrow is going to be their third date.  Obviously, he's looking for a wife (and future mother) so he's taking things slowly and carefully with her. But I also know he fucks on the first date. So maybe all the waiting is her.

He said she's only had three lovers. I assume she's over thirty. I could be wrong. By that time my number was closer to 15.
She's the Madonna. I'm much more the whore.

He told me about their dates and I cried. I cried for two days, terrified of losing him and knowing it was all coming to a grand, terrible conclusion.

I've been so happy. He's been my perfect lover. The best I've ever had. Something hard if not impossible to top. And I've loved him for so long, now. Losing him breaks my heart.

He swears we will have to stay friends. I want that, too. As much as I value the sex, I value him immensely as a friend, too. But it's not just the sex I'll miss (though I well miss that a lot) but the intimacy.

We were cuddling earlier in the evening and he told me how much he likes being there with me in that way. And I finally told him he needed to stop saying things like that. "Stop being nice!" I told him. "Why? What happens if I keep saying nice things to you?" He asked. I can't remember what my initial reply was. Or maybe I just came out with it. "It makes you leaving me that much harder for me."

I was high tonight. Off my ass. I'm using pot to control myself from crying. After I told him how much it was going to hurt, I could feel the stinging in my eyes.

We talked more. He asked me how I felt about being in top, since I only did it maybe once since we've been together. And only briefly. I told him I haven't been with a man who made it amazing, yet

Knowing tonight could be our last night together, I suddenly decided to drop my inhibitions and just surrender myself to him in a way I haven't yet. Which, in this case, meant bringing my more dominant side out. I crawled in top of him and kissed him long, hard, and deeply. I rubbed my pussy on his cock, teasing myself, teasing us both.

More than once I watched his hand reach to position his cock so I could settle down on it, having it buried inside me. But I teased myself more, and laughed at him, explaining how much I enjoy teasing myself and the byproduct of teasing him. He suggested grabbing some lube. I ignored him.

Eventually, I could feel how wet he made me. I moved so I could touch myself just to verify that I wasn't mistaken and then slid his cock into me. "Wet enough for you?" I asked arrogantly. "It's not about me" he said, blankly.

I fucked him on top for a while. I made him tell me he's mine. I demanded he admit that he belongs to me. I came. I came many times. Eventually, i got tired.

And then he took over and climbed on me and made me come even more. And then he told me he wanted to humiliate me. To make me do something I wouldn't like. And so he took me to his bath tub and told me to get on my knees and he peed on me.

I never thought I would let him. There was splashing, just a bit. I could taste his piss in the air. He peed on me and then when he was done he told me to kiss the tip of his cock. I licked the final drops off his cock head.

And then he told me to take a shower. When I was done he presented me with a towel and we went back to the bedroom where he fucked me more. Until finally I told him I really wanted to feel his fingers on my clit. "Okay." He said. But before we could settle in I asked him to grab a dildo. A pushed it inside my pussy and then let him have his way with my clit. More orgasms. Dozens. Intense. Wonderful.

I love him. I love his perverted mind. And I want, so much, to please him.

He took my ass, again, with his cock. And fingered it, too, discovering he could press my gspot through my asshole. And it becomes a blur of my own pleasure and confusion as to how it could feel so damned good.

I let go so completely. I called him Daddy over and over. And thanked him for taking such good care of me.

Truly, I've said it before and I'll say it again. Every time we fuck it gets better. Hope can that be?