Me and Her (and Him)

She wanted to fuck a woman. He wanted to watch. Her boyfriend, maybe he was her husband, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter to me, right? It’s an old story anyway. I’d never gone in for that. But somehow, this time, it sounded good. I caught myself thinking about it. A lot.

I was at a friend’s wedding when I met her. Them. Met them. I was there alone. They were both a little drunk. Smiling. Flushed cheeks from the booze and the dancing. They looked beautiful together. In love. Good dancers. We talked a little. Not too much. We danced near each other on the dance floor. All of us. Laughing. I didn’t think we were flirting. Maybe we were. She would turn to me and lift her hair. I watched her hips. I smiled, maybe a little too long. I left late. We walked out of the place together and I got in a cab watching her wave goodbye over his shoulder as he held her tight. I saw her kiss his ear. That was it.

I ran into them again over the next few months. Once, at the bagel place, I came in and they waved me to their table. I couldn’t remember who they were at first. I’m terrible with faces. We laughed and chatted a bit, but I left them alone and sat by myself at the counter by the window. They’re straight. I’m not. I liked them, but I don’t really have straight friends. They waved goodbye through the window when they left.

The next time I saw them, we were at another party. More drinking. Laughing. Dancing. I talked about sex. I always talk about sex. I saw it happen. The looks back and forth. The laughter changed to something slower, more telling. We hugged goodbye that night, exchanging numbers. At home, I took their phone number out of my pocket and put it on the dresser in front of me. “This isn’t a friendship,” I thought, staring at her handwriting, “I know what this is.” 

I looked down at my fingers, letting them crawl over each button one at a time. I slid my hand under my shirt, dragging my open palm hard over my chest and feeling my nipples burn. I stood there at my dresser, unbuckling my belt. I felt my clit press against my underwear. I stared down at myself. My boy’s briefs. My pants hanging open. I could feel how wet I was getting thinking about her. Has she done this before? I looked at the number on the jagged white slip of paper and jerked myself off while I stood there, one hand gripping my open sock drawer. I came quickly. Too fast. I kept jerking off through the whole night of restless sleep from the party, the drinking, the energy. I woke up cranky and annoyed with myself. Feeling the day lost after such a sleepless night.

Several weeks had gone by since I had put her number in my phone. Their number. I stared at the phone when it rang. It was her on the line. Her voice shook.

This is awkward… Was I interested… She had always thought about it… He had always wanted to… 

I let her talk. I didn’t fill in her silences. She needed to ask for this. I needed to hear her say it. Her words. Her suggestion. Her desire. I let her explain. I listened. I waited for her to stop and then I said, “I’ve been thinking about it, too. I want to fuck you.” I could hear her breathing. I could feel my heart pounding. This was hot. Hotter than I expected it to feel. Such an old story, but there’s a reason it’s still told. He wanted to watch. Of course. I wanted him to watch. It’s only half the story without that, really. I needed him to watch. She needed that. It made all the difference.

We met at a bar near their house. A few drinks. I asked him to kiss her. I watched. I dipped a finger into my glass of whiskey and slid the tip between her lips. 

We left. He drove slowly. We were all in the car. I would pick my bike up later. I’d walk, I told them. I would want to walk, I thought.

We didn’t talk in the car. I rode in the back, sitting in the middle with my knees wide. Looking at her in the rearview mirror. Watching her stare at him, smiling. We were all a little buzzed with excitement. Everything glowed with the street lamps. The night air was cool and damp and wet. It muffled the thud of my boots on their wooden front steps. They led me into a bedroom. It looked like a guest room, a bit empty and sterile. 

I didn’t want him to say anything. “I don’t want you to talk,” I said, leading him to a chair in the corner that seemed to be there for this. Just for him. He sat down, looking up at me, his mouth stiff. “Do you want a drink?” I asked. He shook his head no. “You can jerk off,” I said. He nodded. He had pretty eyes. He was a beautiful man, really. He sat there so still. “We’re all in this,” I thought. 

She stood by the bed, looking fantastic. I don’t think I’d really noticed before. Maybe this was the moment I needed, to see it. Her hair was pulled back. She wore a low cut, wrap dress with boots. She had small tits and I could see her nipples under the fabric. I like that. I moved behind her and slid both hands under her dress. A breast in each hand, her nipples under my thumbs. I held her body towards him. I saw his hands resting on his thighs. 

I licked her neck with my tongue just barely poking out beyond my lips, letting her feel my mouth right there, my breath. My hips pushed against her ass and I felt her body move, softening, her weight shifted against me. I squeezed her tits, rubbing my hands roughly under her dress. I moved a little to one side, half of her still leaning against my chest, and grabbed the back of her neck. I brought my other hand up to her face. My thumb under her chin. “I want him to see your mouth,” I said to her, loudly enough for him to hear me, “I want him to watch how you suck his dick. Let him see it.”

She turned around, her eyes searching my face for a second and dropped to her knees with her hands on my belt buckle. “No,” I laughed, pulling her back up and turning her around to face him, “I don’t have a cock.” I held my thumb against her lips until she opened for me. “This,” I said, “Show him.” Her tongue stiffened against my thumb. She tilted her head back, opening her throat for me. I pushed inside her. “You’re so wet inside, so soft,” I told her, “Let me feel your tongue. Show me.”

I saw his hand shift. He gripped his cock, now stiff in his pants. I watched him hold the stiff bulge between his thumb and forefinger, stroking himself. My cunt was so hot and tight. I felt it throb and hang heavy between my legs. I wanted to flip her over and fuck her hard. I felt myself held back. I needed this slow. I needed this to build. I wanted her so hot, burning, gripping my fingers tight as soon as I entered her. I pulled my thumb out of her mouth and pushed two fingers in instead. My wet thumb stroking her cheek with every thrust. “So soft inside,” I said, “So good.”

I let her suck my fingers for a long time. Long enough to get lost in a trance, staring at her mouth. My leg had shifted between her thighs and she rubbed herself slowly against me. I pulled my fingers out of her mouth and moved them, wet, to her nipples. I grabbed the back of her head, my fingers tight in her hair. “You want him to see this,” I said roughly, jerking her dress off each shoulder, “That’s right, isn’t it?” I pulled her dress down, exposing her tits, and went back to rolling each nipple between my thumb and finger, one at a time. I looked back at him. He stared at her tits. He was rubbing his dick through his pants with a hard, flat palm.

I imagined my own stiff, throbbing cock jamming into my thigh and swallowed hard. “Do you feel a little guilty about this?” I asked and moved to face her. I gripped her hair more tightly and gave her a quick slap across the cheek. “Do you feel bad?” I taunted, “Do you feel dirty?” I slapped her again twice, each harder than the last. Her eyes were wide now. Staring at me. Waiting. She nodded. “I understand,” I said and took her hand in mine, leading it to my belt. “Would you like to feel this?” I whispered into her neck, “It’s so thick and heavy.” She didn’t say anything. “I wore it just for you,” I said and gripped her fingers, running them along the edge of the leather, “Is this what you want?” She nodded. “What?” I whispered. “Yes,” she said, softly.

I pulled my face away from her and turned to look at him. He was watching her fingers. We put our hands on our belt buckles at the same time. I mirrored his movements as he slowly unbuckled his belt. I slid mine out of the belt loops as he struggled with the buttons of his fly. His hard on pushing against his pants. “Bend over,” I told her. Her hands were wide on the edge of the bed. I looped the belt in my hand and buckled it before running it across her low back. I pet her ass while I ran the edge of the thick leather slowly up the backs of her legs. Petting her sweetly. Whispering to her. “I know you’re good,” I called to her as I lifted her dress.

She wore peach colored panties. Cotton briefs so simple and sweet, the sight took my breath away. Unexpected. My hands trembled and I felt sweat on my palms. “I like these,” I said, letting the belt fall against her ass. I took the belt in both hands, pulling the loop tight, and ran the rough edge of leather just below her panties on the back of her thighs. This belt smacks with a loud, crisp sound. Harder than it feels. I raised my arm and swung. She shifted her legs. I hit her ass with the belt, only her ass, several times, slowly drawing back my arm before a quick swing and a smack. A dozen times or more before I stopped and pet her with my hand. I ran my fingers through her hair and felt the sweat on her scalp and the back of her neck. The room felt hot now. Muggy. 

"Pull your panties down for me," I said. I stared at her rounded, red cheeks as the cotton slid down. I stopped her hands mid-thigh. "Good enough," I told her, moving onto my knees for a moment. I dropped the belt and reached my hand between her legs when I kissed her. This first kiss with a finger curved between the wet lips of her pussy and my tongue reaching deep inside her mouth. I wanted her to struggle for breath. "I like this," I said with my mouth against hers, "Spreading your lips like this with my finger." And dragged my finger deeper, feeling her hole open up for me. "So wet inside," I said, "So good," and kissed her hard again, gripping her jaw. "I want you wetter," I said, pulling my mouth off hers and grabbing the belt again.

On all fours, I moved behind her, licking my way up her leg until I stood crouched with my tongue just above her knee where her panties were drawn tight between her thighs. I ran my teeth against the elastic edge. I licked at the cotton. “I don’t even have to stick my face in your pussy to taste you,” I said, “Your panties are so wet.” I sucked loudly on the cotton and heard him groan behind me. Back on my feet, I pulled the belt across her bare ass. She sucked in her breath and I took that as my cue to quickly pull back my arm and swing. The effect is beautiful. The leather. The swing. The bright red striped flesh. But it’s the sound I love best. A sharp smack. I was soon done spanking her. I wanted too much to fuck her.

I didn’t want to lie on the bed. I didn’t want to get on top of her. I didn’t want to pump her with a cock. I sat on the edge of that bed and pulled her onto my lap, her back against my chest. I adjusted her dress to keep her tits pulled out and her pussy exposed. My hands squeezed her hips and then dragged slowly up the sides of her ribcage, jerking here and there on the fabric of her dress. “Put your hands behind my head,” I told her. Her arms reached high and long behind her. Her head rested against my shoulder. I was breathing in her ear. I rubbed her body. I clawed my fingers on her thighs. I held her tight, sometimes nibbling at her ear. I pushed my hips against her and pulled her down hard into my lap. “I want you to feel me,” I said. 

I looked across the room. His cock was out in his hand. He rubbed his palm in a circle around and around the tip, sometimes pulling at it. He sat so still. His face was calm. I watched the curving movement of his forearm and slid my hand to her pussy. I stroked her slowly with my the tip of my finger from her hole up to her clit, hovered just above her clit for a moment, and started over. I rocked my hips, rocking her with me, as I repeated this again and again. I held her to me with my hand on her chest. 

"This is how I’d fuck you if I had a cock," I told her. "I’d rub it against your pussy like this. I’d rub it so softly between your lips. I’d come on your belly and your thighs," I slid my wet hand under her dress, rubbing her belly, feeling the soft strip of hair that ran below her belly button. "Like this," I said. Her arms gripped my head. I moved two fingers between her lips now, stroking her clit in circles. "I like how wet you got for me," I said and licked her neck. I rubbed harder now and held her with my arm wrapped tightly around her, just under her tits. I spread my legs a little wider, moving hers open with me. I felt myself get so hot. My body tensed and I felt myself humping against her ass, pulling her to me. "I want you to come," I said and she exploded against my hand. Her arms squeezed me hard and then went limp. She drew one hand down between her legs and held mine hard against her throbbing clit. 

"There’s more," I told her and she laughed. We fucked more that night. I wanted her on her back with her knees up. I wanted to lean into the backs of her thighs with my fingers inside her and watch her jerk herself off. I pushed my hips against her with my fingers slamming into her hole. She was naked at that point. I was fully dressed. My pants were wet from her pussy.

I don’t know if he came or not up to that point. I had stopped paying attention to him. I didn’t want to look at him when she sucked me off. I kneeled on the bed while she undid my shirt. Ran her hands over me. I unbuttoned my pants for her. Unzipped my fly. I took my pants off and told her to suck on my clit through my briefs. Her fingers were splayed wide on my inner thighs and her face was buried between my legs.

She teased her fingers under the edge of my underwear and looked up at me when she reached my wet cunt. So fucking wet. I nodded at her and pulled my underwear down, spreading my legs wide. “Suck me off,” I told her, “I want your mouth right here.” I pulled her head towards me and lifted my hips. She sucked hard with her teeth against me. I felt myself pushing into her mouth. So turned on. I didn’t want to know why. Why was this so hot to me? I squeezed my eyes shut. Trying not to think of him watching. Trying not to imagine a cock, my cock, in her mouth. Shutting away this or that image that came into my head. Finally I stopped thinking and opened my eyes, looking down at her. I squeezed her head in my hands, “I want to come in your mouth,” I said. She nodded and slid her arms around me, holding my ass in her hands, looking up at me. I came. So hard. Bucking against her with such force it hurt. When I pulled her face off of me, her chin looked rubbed raw. 

I kissed her. A kind of closure. I got dressed pretty quickly and let myself out. I’m not sure how I’d imagined it ending, but this seemed right in the moment. Let me disappear. Leave my ghost in the room. Something unreal, ethereal. Let this slip away for now.

I walked to my bike, thankful it was still chained up outside the bar. I walked it home, not wanting to ride. Needing to wind my way home at a slow pace in the night air. I felt good. I didn’t question it.

Bound for Mexico

I’m like a teenage boy tonight. If she touches it, I’ll explode. Come all over her fingers. In my pants. I can’t keep still. My thighs shifting. Opening. Lifting my ass off this folding chair and sitting back down, adjusted. 

Keep an eye on her fingers. Let her see you blush. Let her catch you looking. Looking at her. Her mouth. Her neck. Her tits. The hem of her skirt. Her boots. Your thighs. The buttons of your shirt. Your belt. Your own crawling, clawing fingers.

"Baby," I want to say, but she’s not my baby. "Hey," I say, thinking that maybe I can keep her talking a minute or two longer. Maybe there’s something more to say. Something more she wants to hear. Something that will make her smile a little and look down. Make her think about it.

My ass is sore from sitting on this metal chair. People were yawning and nodding off all around us. I was nervous. Picking at the stitching on my jeans. Scratching the back of my head. Craning my neck a little lower just to see how her shirt pulled between the buttons across her tits. “Jesus,” I thought, this woman looks so fucking good. She caught me staring at her all night. I saw her smile and blush. I felt the energy of it jump around inside me. Boost my swagger. 

"Hey," I said, "Come on, let’s get out of here." She looked over her shoulder like there was someone who needed to give permission, then turned around with a smile that looked good on her and said, "Sure." We nodded at each other, scraping our chairs loudly against the linoleum as we stood up. 

Outside, I smoked a cigarette and she wrinkled up her nose at the drifting smoke. Not what I expected. The night was cool. She talked about Mexico. Wanted to know if I’d been. I hadn’t. Wanted to tell me about it. Why she loves it. We talked about all the people who go but never see Mexico. People who go and stay at some fancy spa with salt water pools and breezy drapes and generically fancy meals. “Why the fuck do I want to travel all that way to stay in some nondescript hotel?” I shook my head. “People are stupid,” she said. “Fucking idiots,” I agreed.

We didn’t have much to say after Mexico. My fingers were fumbling for a place to land. In and out of my pockets. Touching my lighter. Feeling the wadded up bits of paper and change. We looked in every window that we passed, indiscriminately. The cleaners. The eyeglass place. An empty shell of what was a decent bar once. The coffee shop was still open. Two americanos. She sat with me outside on a bench, leaning a little against my shoulder as we watched people walk by. It felt okay. Quiet and peaceful. Like we knew each other better than we did. 

I slid my arm over her shoulder and she gave me a funny look. “I don’t know,” I said, smiling shrugging, like I was trying to figure something out, “I like you.” She smiled at me, “Yeah,” she said, “Me too.” I kissed her then. I kissed her soft. I rested my fingers lightly on her knee, letting them slip just between her legs a little. She touched my cheek. She ran her fingers from my neck up the back of my head, through my hair, and gripped my head. Electric. The fuzzed out thick cords of energy shot through my arms and legs. I needed her hand on me. 

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the bench. “We gotta go,” I said and led the way to my little apartment a few blocks away. I had to battle with my bike inside the door - shoving it halfway into my closet to give us room to move. “Damn,” I said and squeezed her knuckles. I kissed her up against the bathroom door and tugged at her hand. “I want it so bad,” I whispered. 

We weren’t drunk. Not even tipsy. Buzzed a little, I guess, from meeting someone new, the night air, the coffee. But it’s not as easy like this. It’s not sloppy like when your drunk and just slip into it, wondering later who started something. This was clear. I started it. And she was right there with me.

She tensed against my grabbing hands. Her arm jerking upwards as I tried to push her hand between my legs, my eyes pleading with her. She smiled with a playful look, her tongue on her teeth, as she jerked her hand out of my grip. I circled her waist with a quick grip and slapped her forearm, seeing the sting of it in her scowl for a split second. We struggled for a minute. She slapped my hands away several times before I had her wrist tight in my fingers again. She laughed from deep in her throat. “I want it,” I said, and felt my muscles strain to shove her hand between my legs. I had to hold it there, rubbing her closed fist against me. I felt myself twitch and throb. 

I had to hold on tight. She bucked. I felt my neck get hot and wet with sweat. My chest, my back, my thighs burning with a stiff tension. I held her tight around her middle and flipped the both of us around so her back was up against the door. Now I could lean into her. Get the heels of my boots up off the ground and drive myself hard against her. I held onto the closed doorknob to keep from being pushed away. I felt her heart pound. I smashed my mouth against hers and let go long enough to move my hands around to her ass, pulling her harder against me. “Come on,” I groaned, my spit hitting her lips.

I pulled us harder against each other. I gripped her thigh between mine and dragged myself up and down. “Feel me,” I said, “I want you to touch it.” My voice shook. I gave myself away. She touched me, lightly, on the small of my back. “I like this,” she said and grabbed my hips, “Come on.” She pulled me harder up and down against her thigh. She moaned and coo’d her encouragement. I tensed up, sweating through my clothes, breathing hot and hard. “Damn it,” I said, jerking my head and slapped the palms of my hands against the door. The boom shook us. I grabbed her face and pulled her over to the bed. I sat down and patted the mattress beside me, “Sit.”

Leaning back on my arms, I let my knees fall wide and looked at her. I looked at her hands. Looked at my jeans. “I want you to touch it,” I said, shifting my hips. 

She leaned against me and started slow with her hand just above my knee. She pet me, squeezed my leg, rubbed her hand harder and harder up and down my thigh. She stroked me with her fingers, just inside my thighs, until I thought I was going to pass out. “Please,” I whimpered and her fingers traced the seam of my jeans right up and over my clit. The ripples shot through me as her nails dragged between my legs, catching on the thick denim. She teased me like this until I felt dizzy and closed my eyes, breathing deep.

She slid my belt buckle open and pulled my belt off slowly, making the leather hiss through the loops. Her hand slid under my jeans after she took her time unbuttoning my fly. Her fingers rested for a moment on my soaked briefs before pushing them aside and running her fingers on either side of my stiffening cock. Wet and hard. I felt it grow between her knuckles. She tugged and pulled. “You’re getting so big,” she whispered and stroked me in a slow, lazy fashion. 

I sat leaning back on my arms and watched her wrist bend with each pull. I stared as the base of her thumb circled and slid in and out of my pants. Up and down. Teasing me bigger. So swollen. So hot.

She heard my breath change. She heard where I was and put her head against my chest. “I want you to come in my hand like this,” she said, “Let me see it.” Her head bent further down, resting against my stomach. “Come right here,” she said, “Come in my face like this,” and moved herself between my legs, letting me see her cheek, the hair falling over her eyes, her parted lips. My hips jerked up again and again. She pulled so hard on my clit. I lifted my ass for a second to pull my pants down to my thighs and crashed back down, jerking hard into her hand. Watching her stroke me. Feeling that rush.

I came so hard. I came in slow, lengthy, shuddering waves. Coming and coming in a way I didn’t recognize. She kept stroking me and it felt so damn good. I held her hand against me until I stilled. She kissed my wet inner thigh. We flopped back on the bed and I tried to roll over on top of her but she hushed me with a “There there now, sweet boy.” “Save it for next time,” she said and kissed my neck with her fingers on my shirt buttons. I lay there feeling her scratch at my chest, taking her in.

“Hey,” I said, “We should go to Mexico.” She looked up at me. She laughed and bit my rib, “What?” “Yeah, I don’t know,” I said, “It sounds like fun though.”

Rub It Harder

We fucked a lot. Especially in the early days. We fucked every day we saw each other. Sometimes more than once a day. “I like to fuck,” I told her. She just smiled. We were a good match. She challenged everything I’d known up to that point. Everything I’d known about myself, thought I’d known. Turns out I hadn’t figured out as much as I thought I had.

I was stone. Or nearly stone. Very rarely could I let some girl touch me down there. I didn’t quite know what to call it. I hated the word pussy for myself. I couldn’t say cunt. Dick sounded too much like pretending. Cock had the same problem. And the moment some girl said one of those words, I closed up. I left the building emotionally, physically. Everything broke down. I wasn’t one or the other. I was a little lost. This is me. Not you. Everyone goes through there own thing.

With her, somehow, I opened. 

I remember the first time she fucked me. We hadn’t been together for that long. A few weeks maybe. I was in her bed. We were making out. My hand was under her shirt. The kiss felt so incredible, I didn’t want anything else. We kissed for a long time, my fingers rubbing her tits and my leg resting lightly between her thighs. She pushed me onto my back and started to unbutton my shirt. I opened my mouth to say something but she gave me this look that burned my cheeks. She looked me up and down, her mouth hanging open. I felt everything shift even before she spoke. 

"Are you getting hard?" she asked, taunting me, "Don’t worry, I know you can’t help it." I nodded. I grabbed at my jeans and felt between my legs for it. She followed my hand with her eyes, nodding. "That’s right," she said, "You want to show me what you’ve got?" I grunted, unable to speak. She sat up on her knees and stared down at my hand on my fly. She pet my knuckles, smiling, before knocking my hand away. "Let’s see," she said and started rubbing my jeans. Her hand moved in long strokes. Her fingers grabbed and kneaded me. She pulled. "Are you a big boy?" she laughed, "I won’t suck you off until you’re as big as you can get." 

I pulled myself up on my elbows, mesmerized by the motions of her hand on my prick. I saw us. Teenagers in a corner. In a school hallway on prom night. An abandoned chemistry lab in the dark. Behind the bleachers. The back seat of a car. I pawed through different scenarios in my mind. Where am I? Where are we? I flipped through the images like I was selecting the next song on a jukebox. A couch. My childhood home. Late at night. “We need to be quiet,” I said and she cocked her head, tuning in to me. “Okay, sweetheart,” she said, “Whatever you say.” She paused, staring at me, and then stopped rubbing me. She looked hard at my hand and nodded her head. I slowly dragged my hand down and took over rubbing myself. “Yeah, baby,” she said and started to undo my belt, “Show me how big you can get.”

She took her time unbuttoning my jeans. I rubbed. I pulled. Watching her fingers move. My jeans hung open. Her fingers scratched at the elastic band on my briefs. She smiled. Paused. Her fingers crawled up under my shirt, clawing at my skin. Buttons under her fingers again. My shirt. She started at the last button and worked her way up. One finger traced the edges of my tank top. I sucked in my breath and arched my back, realizing that the look on my face was probably more shocked than turned on. She stayed with me. My eyes were locked on her. I rubbed at my jeans, pulling on my cock. Quiet breathing. Her whispers, “I want you as stiff as you can get.” I rubbed harder. “That’s right,” she said with her lips against my ear, “That’s so good.”

I started to slide my hand into my jeans but she grabbed my wrist. “No, baby,” she signed, “You don’t understand. That’s mine.” I felt tears well up in my eyes. There was no stopping. I felt my cock so hard in my jeans it made me wince. “I need you to take it out,” I said, my voice barely audible, a hoarse whisper, “I need you to rub it harder.” She smiled at me. Smiled down at my wet, red face. “Oh, you’re so good,” she squealed and lay down beside me before sliding her hand between my jeans and my briefs. She slid her fingers on either side of my clit with the cotton of my shorts between her fingers and me. I felt hard. So hard. I gasped to feel the pressure of her fingers against me. Someone other than me making me feel it. Everything undone. I felt big. Giant. “Oh, baby,” she said, “You feel so good.”

She whispered into my ear as she stroked me. “Do you shake just before you get off? Do you quiver? I feel something. Wet. Did you come a little in your pants? I want you to come in my hand like this. I want you to come all over my fingers.” She slid her hand inside my underwear. I held my breath as her fingers slid over my clit and pushed inside me. I felt my cunt open up for her. And then everything shifted. “I want to be inside you,” I said. She slid one leg over me and straddled my hips, her fingers still thrusting into me. “Like this?” she said, lifting her skirt. I put my hands on her thighs and pushed my hips up against her. My chest flushed. My breath tightened and then I let go, relaxed, and closed my eyes. I felt myself inside her. Fucking her. My cock hard, straining. Her pussy gripping me. “Let me in deep,” I said. We rocked against each other like this while I stared at her. Quiet. Somehow furious. I felt myself inside her. Filling her. I nearly came but she pulled away and put a finger on my lips. “Wait,” she said.

She slid off of my hips. Slid down and leaned forward until her face was between my thighs. She pulled my jeans and shorts down and started fucking me harder. “You’re so good to me,” she said, “Giving me what I want like this.” I pulled a pillow under my head so I could look at her. “You like this?” I asked, my voice came out cracked and halting. She just nodded and stared at me. I watched her arm move. I felt the pounding feeling. I listened to the sound of us fucking. Her fucking me. Me fucking her. Everything spun and smashed together. “I want you to come in my face,” she said and left her mouth hanging open. My hips jerked towards her over and over again. I heard myself yelling. I heard her reminding me to be quiet. I left the fantasy. The couch. The boy. The girl. The quiet house. I was right there on her bed. Legs spread. Getting fucked. About to come in her face. “FUCK,” I yelled. Surprising myself. Making her laugh. “Fuck,” I breathed, spent, buckled over.

She kissed my clit. I jerked in surprise. She kissed my thighs, my hip bones. She kissed her way up my chest, stopping to suck on my neck. I looked at her. Dismayed. Dismantled. I kissed her mouth. Soft at first, then sucking hard on her lips. I held her face in my hands. I held her tight and told her everything.


BUTCH is a beautiful portrait project from Meg Allen Studio in Oakland @megallenstudio:

BUTCH explores the contemporary butch aesthetic, identity and presentation of female masculinity. It is a celebration of those who choose to exist and identify outside of the binary; who still get he’d and she’d differently throughout the day; who get called-out in bathrooms and eyed suspiciously at the airport; who have invented names for themselves as parents because “Mom” nor “Dad” feels quite right; and who will generally expect that stare from the gender police trying to figure out if they are “a boy or a girl”. It is an homage to the bull-daggers and female husbands before me, and to the young studs, gender queers, and bois who continue to bloom into the present.

Because Meg Allen is a beautiful soul…
I first met Meg when we sat down over a meal to talk about this project. We talked about a lot of things that resonate deeply with me. We talked about embracing the word lesbian (as well as butch). We talked about that fact that we are women. We talked about breasts. Our breasts. Butchness. What is uncovered when we unbutton our shirts. How we are laid bare. And butch. And ways to hold onto whatever it is we mean when we say it.


BUTCH is a beautiful portrait project from Meg Allen Studio in Oakland @megallenstudio:

BUTCH explores the contemporary butch aesthetic, identity and presentation of female masculinity. It is a celebration of those who choose to exist and identify outside of the binary; who still get he’d and she’d differently throughout the day; who get called-out in bathrooms and eyed suspiciously at the airport; who have invented names for themselves as parents because “Mom” nor “Dad” feels quite right; and who will generally expect that stare from the gender police trying to figure out if they are “a boy or a girl”. It is an homage to the bull-daggers and female husbands before me, and to the young studs, gender queers, and bois who continue to bloom into the present.

Because Meg Allen is a beautiful soul…

I first met Meg when we sat down over a meal to talk about this project. We talked about a lot of things that resonate deeply with me. We talked about embracing the word lesbian (as well as butch). We talked about that fact that we are women. We talked about breasts. Our breasts. Butchness. What is uncovered when we unbutton our shirts. How we are laid bare. And butch. And ways to hold onto whatever it is we mean when we say it.


Get In Me, Daddy

I don’t have time for the backseat. It’s now or never. I’m hunched over her, my tongue deep in her mouth. My hand slides up between her thighs and under her dress. No panties. She took them off earlier when we were on the highway. She gripped my thigh. Teased me with the tip of her finger. Spread her legs wide for me. Slowly. Drawing my eye. Waited until I was looking. Pulled her dress up high so I could see her shiny, caramel colored panties. She eased them down over her knees, lifting one leg and then the other. Taking them off over her heels.

My cheeks were red. I could tell from the look she gave me even if I hadn’t felt the hot blood creep up inside me. She gets me going. She gets me hard and fast. Fully flushed. I’m on fire the moment she wants it. We are driving to a friend’s party. Already late. And now her panties are sitting in my lap and her fingers are curled and jittery, in need of something to tug at, pull on. She’s so used to shoving her dirty little hand between her legs anytime she wants to get off. When she chooses to wait, like now, I see her shake with the need to feel something.

"Let me taste you," I mouth, the sound barely escapes my lips. My throat is dry, cracking. I hadn’t swallowed since the moment she spread her knees, "Let me taste you." She makes a show of it. Her hands move slowly between her thighs. She pulls her legs apart for me. Her fingers thread through her hair before teasing apart the lips of her pussy. My tongue rests on my lower front teeth. I want to breathe her in. She’s so damn slow about it. Her finger runs lightly along her slit, up and down, until her pussy eases open and I see the shine from her slick hole. She teases herself until her finger is sweetly wet and then slides it onto my waiting tongue.

I take the next exit and turn onto the first residential looking street. I turn left then right, winding my way deeper into the heart of wherever we are. Nowhere. Happy little homes. Front porches. Mallow. Sloppily trimmed lawns. Broken sidewalks. There are no mailboxes. I notice this and picture the mail carriers walking each little front walk to the door. This is where I want to fuck her. Here in this sweet little place. Find the shadow of a big shade tree. Side street. The sun’s gone down. There’s little moonlight. Let’s be lost and dark in this sweet place. I roll the car to the curb, cut the engine, pull the brake.

We’re back where we started now. You and I. In the telling. I wanted you to know how we got here. How sometimes we are doing one thing and there’s a flicker, a look, and then there is no stopping. How I love to fuck her. Unstoppable desire.

I’m hunched over her, my tongue deep in her mouth. I’ve just heard the loud snap of my seat belt as I unhook it. It flies across my shoulder and hits the door. My hand reaches deep under her dress, between her thighs. She opens for me. Opens her thighs. Invites me. Her fingers dig into me everywhere. She grabs at me. Clawing. There’s no time for the backseat. I’m on top of her. My arm reaches down low and moves her seat back as far as I can. She tilts it back. I shift and push my fingers between her legs. Feeling for her pussy. “Get in me, Daddy,” she says and I grab her jaw, twisting her face so she’s looking out the window. My fingers fly out from between her legs to my shirt buttons.

I hold her jaw tight and suck on her neck while my fingers slowly crawl from button to button on my shirt. I need it hanging open. I need the energy of it. I need her to stare at the yellowed ribs of my too old tank top. I need her to hear the scraping of the button on my pants as I push it through the button hole. I need to watch her face twitch as she hears my pants unzip. I loosen my grip on her jaw, just a little, and turn her again to face me. “You want me inside you?” I ask her. Quiet. My voice is raspy. Rubbed raw by this urgency I’m trying to contain in a slow heat. She looks at me and nods, not saying a word.

I let her feel my fingers against her thighs. I drag them across her skin. We stick together now. Her thighs are damp. My fingers feel swollen. I stick my tongue in her mouth as my fingers push deep inside her pussy. I bend my wrist and hold my hand against my cunt, using my hips to help me push my fingers deep and deeper into her. Letting my weight fall against her. Impossibly cramped. My legs are buckled up behind me, between her feet on the floor. The back of my head hits the top of the car. My body is twisted and uncomfortable, but nothing else matters. Just my fingers inside her. Just her breathing. The shine on her open lips.

I freeze for a few seconds when a pair of headlights suddenly beam into the car, but no one’s looking. No one looks. It’s a quiet night. A sleepy neighborhood. Perfect for a quick fuck. “Jerk off while I’m inside you,” I tell her. I press my forehead against hers. Her hair is wet against my sweating face. I can feel my shirt grow damp under my arms and down my back. Her pussy holds me. My fingers push in and out of her and she holds me. She pulses. I feel how she tightens and look down between us to watch her fingers pull at her clit. I feel her orgasm build inside her. “I love being inside you,” I whisper, “I love your pussy.” She’s getting loud. Moaning. I look around us. The car shakes. “Come for me, baby,” I tell her. My voice is serious. I mean it. She twists her fingers and I feel her rhythm as I push my fingers in, leaving them deep. Moving inside her. I’m in her. I need her. I kiss her cheek and hold her close to me. “I’m in you, baby,” I tell her, “I’m here.”

When she comes, she shakes against me with tiny, sputtering spasms. I hold her tight. We kiss. I move my fingers slower and slower inside her until I’m still and pull out. “We’re late,” I say, moving back to the driver’s seat. “You’re clothes are wrinkled,” she answers, “Let me fix you up.” I stare at her. My arms hang loose beside me. I watch her button each button, tuck my shirt, zip my fly, button my pants.

I wipe my fingers off on my handkerchief and start the car. “You’re sitting on my panties,” she laughs. I look at her, “You don’t need them, do you?” She doesn’t answer but tugs her dress a little lower. I unwind us out of these little streets, flipping on the head lights after realizing I’d driven us a few blocks without them. As we got back onto the highway and headed towards our friend’s house, I looked over at her, smiling, “Get in me, Daddy,” I said. She looked at me sweetly, smiling, “You liked that?” I nodded. I liked that. I did.

Watch Me

And then there she was on the floor in front of me. Her ass slightly lifted. Her hands covering her face. I had walked in the room and a sudden need to fuck her rushed through me. “Get on the floor,” was all I said.

I dropped to my knees. My hand pushing between her thigh and belly. Holding her. I lifted her dress up over her ass. I pet her bottom. I grabbed at her panties. Something ripped. A small tear in the elastic. I left her dress on but pulled the shoulders down to her elbows. Trapped. First one breast and then the other. In my mouth. My fingers slid through the spit on her nipples. Rubbed the slick saliva until it disappeared. Her nipples blushed a darker red, then nearly purple. Her quick breath. Oh god, is she shaking?

I needed her shoulders against the rough carpet. I kept her down on the floor, sometimes pulling her a few inches in one direction or another so it would burn. I wanted to see red marks on her skin. I wanted the heat of it.

I stared. Her dress pulled off her shoulders. The skirt lifted to expose her pussy. Panties pulled down but left to loosely shackle her left ankle. I stroked her pussy and slapped at her tits. Slapping lightly. Starting soft. I needed her to feel me. “Do you feel me?” I asked, “I need you to feel me.”

My fingers pushed inside her now. I held myself deep inside her. I pulsed deep within her. “Roll her over,” I told myself. I rocked her hip. I pushed her into the carpet and slowly rocked her on to her side. Her legs curled around me. Her ass exposed. Smacking. Redness. My tongue on her heated flesh. More fingers. Pinching. Slapping. The sting of it. Her upper thighs.

My god. How wet she became. I feel the slick warmth even now. So wet. I felt my spit pool on my tongue, useless. She was ready to be fucked. Twice. I fucked her twice. Once on her side like this. Her ass glowing red from my hand. The other on her back. Her legs spread wide.

It was this. Her legs opened in front of me. It was this that made me grab my belt. I needed to rub my own cunt. Pull on it like a hardening cock. Long, slow strokes. I kept one hand on her pussy and one in my pants. She stared, slack jawed, at my disappearing wrist. Stared at my pumping forearm. I felt her eyes on my chest. I stopped to pull my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. “Watch me,” I said, “look what you do to me.”

I stroked the both of us. One hand easy and soft on her pussy. The other rubbing my clit furious and fast. I watched her body convulse with her orgasm. Strong. The intensity visible in waves. I was barely hard. Turned on, but miles away from coming. I needed her ass against me. “Roll over on your belly,” I said. And she rolled over, waving her ass back and forth. I like to watch her move. Calling me.

I pulled her hips back against my cunt, making sure she could feel my hand moving under my jeans. I pulled her into me over and over. I opened up. Stiffened. My arm moving fast and hard. Circling. Pulling. I felt my muscles burn. Too fast. Too hard. I can’t come like this. I knew it. I needed to slow down.

I got up and grunted at her. Moved my desk chair around to face her. “I want to sit down,” I told her, “I want you on your knees in front of me.” I needed her to watch me. I pulled my jeans down to my ankles. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and held her against my thigh, her mouth an inch away from my clit. I wanted her to smell me, nearly taste me. I shifted my hips forward, let my knees drop wide. I jerked off with her so close I could feel her breath. I jerked off watching her open her mouth and push her tongue towards me. I looked at her knees underneath her on the floor. I looked at her shoulders. Her wrinkled dress. Her eyes staring up at me.

I shoved her face between my legs. She sucked me off for a few minutes before I pulled her off of me and made her watch again. “I can see how much you want to suck me,” I said. “I like how much you want it. So dirty,” I laughed. I pictured her name inked in the crevices of my fingers. I pictured her holding my zipper open. I pictured her sucking. Her mouth wrapped around me.

"Crawl up here on my lap," I asked. She climbed me. Towered above me. Her weight on my hips. My arm ran between her thighs. My hand on my own cunt. Pulling. Not close enough to coming. Frustrated. "Give me your fingers," she said and took two, then three of my fingers in her mouth. I stared at the dark hollow behind her lips. I felt her desire. The way she sucked me in. Deep. Knowing. I pictured her sucking on other women. Their fingers. Their cocks. Their clits. Some guy’s prick, deep in her throat. I pictured them all and stared. Loving her. Knowing who I was and what I want. I came so hard, almost knocking her to the floor. She pulled her mouth off my fingers and leaned over to kiss me so deep. So slow. Sucking the breath out of me.

I was high after we fucked. Stumbling. This is intoxication. The dizzy hit.

A few hours later, I closed my eyes and nearly came again remembering my feet on the floor and her cheek against my thigh. My grip in her hair. How I pulled her face against me and held her fast. “Right here, baby. I want you to watch. I want you to see how much I want you.”


I met her on a Wednesday. We kissed that night. I didn’t hesitate. I kissed her the way I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to know that I was turned on. That I wanted to fuck her. That I might decide to follow her home. She kissed me back the same. Her hands ran up and down my back, under my open jacket. We held each other like lovers.

The next time I saw her, we fucked. All night. We fucked hard those first several weeks. There was a lot to get out. It felt like catching up. It felt like a race we were both running together. Keep moving. Harder. She was covered in bruises. I was sore between my legs. My nipples raw against soft cotton tank tops. Hours of talking. Hours of fucking. Amazement. Eating. Drinking. Smoking. Fucking. A rubbed red rash on my knee from her floorboards. Stiff muscles. Marks under my clothes. Exhaustion.

This isn’t any kind of revelation in story telling. This is the same story, repeated and repeated. But this one is mine. Hers and mine.

She would hold my head in her hands. Unconsciously lifting and lightly tapping my cheekbones. Her eyes filled with such sweetness. “I can’t believe I found you,” she would say. And I’d nod. My fingers still inside her, slicked and moving. We’d shake our heads at each other. Disbelief. I would smile at her and say, “Yes,” before pushing my fingers deep inside her. Deeper. Picking up the pace. Fucking her again. My fingers curved over her mouth like a cage. “Shut up,” I’d whisper but she wouldn’t hear me. It didn’t matter. She knew.

When I feel my luck so deep, when I realize what she means to me, I’m filled with an angry need to fuck. I like to look back over my shoulder and watch my elbow jerk up behind me. Thrusting hard into her again and again. Over and over. “I love fucking you, baby,” I snarl between clenched teeth. I slam my fingers into her, spitting my words into her ear with each thrust: “I fucking love you, baby. Look what you do to me. You see it, don’t you?” Hissing, “God damn,” and her name.

Her name. The girl in the story. What’s her name? I don’t like to say. I don’t want you to be distracted. Names distract me when I read. When I’m getting off on porn. I want to know the story. I want to know details. But I need to fill in the blanks for myself. I need room to wander. But I love to say her name. I love to say her name to her. For her to hear me say her name. Think of that girl you love. That girl you want. Say her name. Say it into the pillow if you have to. Say it into your shoulder. But say her name out loud. Feel it on your tongue and in your mouth. Feel your breath wrap around it. Get used to her name. Whisper it to her when you can.

I don’t ever want to get bored.That’s true about life in general, but I mean sexually. I can’t stay in one mood for long. We moved from pounding, bruising, tossed around fucking to slow, wet, crazy romantic sex. In between, I wanted her to hold me down. I’d lie on my belly with my ass in the air. She tugged her fingers hard on my little boy cock, my clit. I cried and bit the edge of the mattress while she spanked me with quick, bright slaps.

Now, again, I want to hold her down. I want her limbs restricted. Feet bound at the ankles. Wrists secured under her chin. I want to push her chest down with both palms and feel her struggle beneath me. A strap cinched just above her knees. I want to struggle to push my fingers between her thighs. To feel her.

"Roll over on to your side," I am quiet as I say it, issuing instructions. I lift her back and her ass, helping her shift. I walk around to the foot of the bed. Her feet lay stacked. Her ankles wrapped up tight. I nibble on her toes as I push her feet slowly, bending her knees. I want her knees up high. I want to look at her pussy between her thighs. I crawl onto the bed behind her. My knees sit behind her ass. My thighs spread open. I lean back on my feet. I push my hands hard against her hip and slowly drag one hand up her side, one down her thigh, until I am bowed down low over her body. Fingers in her hair. A hand cupped under her calf. I push against her. Rocking her back and forth. Grinding. I lift myself up to position my cunt against her hip. Slowly nudging her as I rub myself against her. Can you see her? Can you see us? She’s curved like a cropped letter h in front of me. Like a sideways chair. I’m curved over her. My rounded back. My ass loose in my jeans. Pumping. I want you to see us.

This is what she likes, she tells me. Whatever I want. What I want is to wrap my arms around her and pull her harder against me. This is when I sweat. I inch my thumb up the back of her thigh until I reach her pussy. Open. I fuck her deeply with my thumb. Rocking her body. Still nudging her with my cunt. I don’t want her to come. Not now. I fuck her. Pull her to me. I pet her body. I pull out of her and spank her ass and thighs. Just a little. Just to see a spark of color. Just to watch her pull her knees up a little higher.

My face is hot now. My hair is starting to get wet. I feel my clit twitch. I can tell how wet I am. She hears my fingers on my belt. She looks at me as I unzip my pants. She nods. “Jerk off against my ass,” she whispers, “I want to feel you come on me.” I reach one arm long and push her head so that she’s staring at the wall. I keep her held down. She makes the most beautiful noise. I want to hear it over and over again. It’s not a whimper. It’s something more powerful than that. It’s bottled up. Explosive. It’s the sound you hear just before someone comes so hard they throw you off of them. Compressed. Undiluted.

My hand slides easily between my legs. So wet. Swollen. Tight. I pull downwards on the shaft of my clit, secure between my fingers. She needs to feel me against her ass. I bump against her. Nudge her like an animal. With each downward pull of my clit, I rock her forward and let her fall backwards again, bumping me. I shove her head when I think of it. Give her another nudge. Remind her that I don’t want her to move or look back at me. I want her to listen to my voice. I tell her everything. I tell her how my cock feels. My clit. This little swelling in my pants. I tell her that my fingers were still wet from her pussy when I grabbed myself. I tell her how I love to see my hand print on her ass. The dull red shapes of my fingers wrap like tendrils over her curves. I tell her that I can smell her pussy. Tell her how I’m going to fuck her again and again and not stop. I tell her I want to lose count as she comes in my hands, my mouth, against my thigh.

I come and come again in my own hand. I jerk her head back and turn it to look at me as I do. I stare at her and feel the spit sliding down my chin. I come with my mouth open. I drool. My lower lip pouts. I throw one leg over her hip and press my cunt against her as I calm down. Still spasming. Feeling my cunt drip and soak my underpants. The cotton useless now, and wet. I tell her.

I do lose count. I do. I fuck her with my thumb, one finger sliding against her clit. I fuck her with my fingers and squeeze her thighs tight together. I suck her off, shaving the edges of my teeth against her clit. Reaching both hands up to pull and squeeze her nipples. I unbind her and ask her to lie face down. I spread her legs wide and pull one arm at a time out beside her. I spread myself on top of her. I hold her wrists and sink into her. Sink down. Slow my breathing to match hers. Rise and fall with her lungs.

I need to come again. She hears me. Lifting my thighs. Tugging my pants down to my knees. She feels my hand move against her ass. “I love it when you come on me,” she says. She’s smiling. Her voice sounds drunk. Thick. “Uh huh,” is all I manage to say and then I’m coming. Fast and hard and slamming against her. I lift myself up and lean one arm across her shoulders to brace myself, pushing her deeper into the bed. I can see her smile. Her lit expression.

We fuck and fuck again until we’re falling asleep. I whisper her name. I taste it.

I crave her mouth on my neck. Her tongue stiff and twisting deep into my muscles. Her fingers on my shirt buttons. #veryshortstories #longneckbutch

I crave her mouth on my neck. Her tongue stiff and twisting deep into my muscles. Her fingers on my shirt buttons. #veryshortstories #longneckbutch

Barely There

I can imagine everything except the way we kiss. I close my eyes and remember her hands on me. Her fingers inside me. I feel the weight of her body on top of me. I feel her ass, smooth under the palm of my hand. My tongue moves in my mouth, traveling the folds of her pussy in detail. I feel her. I taste her. But her kiss is lost to me. I cannot remember how her tongue feels in my mouth. I can’t touch the softness of her lips. Our wet kisses. Lost.

One week. Less. Five days.

Five days gone. I am five days gone and then I see her again. She writes to tell me that she isn’t jerking off. She writes to tell me that she tried to jerk off but stopped in frustration. I am jerking off every day, I tell her. I am desperate to touch her, I tell her. I need to bury my face between her legs. I need to press her down with all my weight.

I imagine myself on top of her. My cock tucked inside my briefs. Jeans unbuttoned. My worn, brown belt hanging loose. I imagine lifting her skirt above her hip bones. I feel her wet panties under my fingers. I rub her with my hand while my hips hover just above. I let my knuckles press the cotton of her panties between her wet lips. I crook my index finger and press deeper. I feel her wetness. I feel her hole open up for me. I feel her clit begin to swell. “Oh baby,” I whisper to her like I do, “Oh baby.” I close my eyes and see her underneath me. 

I lower my hips so that my palm cradles the still tucked away cock between my legs. My cock presses into my hand which presses against her pussy. I rub my cock and her pussy at the same time. I see her there. The sweat surfacing on her face. I see her flushed red chest. Her eyes widen as she waits for me. “This, baby,” I tell her, “Slow like this.” I can’t imagine kissing her. I can never feel it. So I keep myself raised above her. Slow. My hips moving against her. My hand between my cock and her pussy. Pushing the base of the cock against my clit. Feeling how wet I am now.

I move my hand and let the bulge of my cock push against her panties. My legs lie just inside her thighs. I feel the way she squeezes me. Holds me there. My hand meanders slowly over her curves. Her hips. Her soft, smooth belly. I can feel the way her shirt grazes the back of my hand. My fingers push up under her clothes. I pull her bra down low off her tits. I brush the full length of my hand across her nipples. One, then the other. I know how her body reacts. I can see her head tilt back. Her strong jaw. She glows. She writhes. We are getting hotter. Her belly burns hot against my own. I feel her heat against me when I put my lips on her neck. I grab a fistful of hair and my fingers are immediately wet with her sweat. We are hot. Sweating.

I realize that I’m drenched. I need this. I need her. Now. I rub my own clit so softly as I picture us. I want to come slow and hard. I want my clit as swollen as she gets me. I hold my swell between my thumb and forefinger. I push one finger inside and then drag it up, pulling my own slick wetness with it. I breathe deeply. I bury myself under the blankets. I soak the sheets with my sweat. Hot. Slow. Wet. I miss her like this. I miss her breath in my ear. I miss the burn I feel when I’m with her. When I can touch her and feel her fingers on me. I pull softly on my clit. I rub my swelling shaft. I can feel her. I whisper her name out loud. In my mind, my hand pushes her panties aside, now soaked. She reaches her hand between my legs and frees my cock. I pull myself up, kneeling, and move her hand away as I guide the tip of my cock inside. “Here,” I say, “Here baby.”

I bend over her, propped up on one arm. One hand stays wrapped around the base of my cock. I want to guide it slowly into her pussy. Just the tip. Just barely there. I want to watch her reach for me. I want to see how she shifts to feel my cock move more deeply inside. Her hands pull at her skin. I watch her fingers on her neck. “Yes,” I say as she cups her breasts in her hands, “I want to see you touch yourself.” She looks up at me. Mouth open, eyes wide. A quick nod of her head. She’s so good. “You’re so good,” I whisper. Everything is hot. Logy. Thudding and dull. My clit so swollen. I want to feel her need. I pull my cock out and push two fingers inside her. Hooked and pulling. I feel the way she grips me tighter. I feel her need to keep me there. I feel it and I want to make her come. Now. Right now. 

My cock slips back inside her. I push a little deeper, still gripping my cock. Moving sluggishly. Lazy in love. My thick tongue. Spicy. Liquored.  We are wet. Our skin, a shade darker. Fucking through a thickness. Ropey muscles. “I want you to touch yourself, baby,” I tell her, “I want to watch you come.” I say this and open my mouth. I reach my tongue so long that the root of it aches. She slips her fingers into my mouth and my spit pools around them. Wet and dripping, she reaches her hand down between her legs. My eyes follow. “Touch yourself,” I say again but she is already rubbing her clit. I follow her rhythm with my cock. Up and down. In and out. I adjust and push so that my cock presses upwards inside her. “Come,” I beg her. I feel her staring at my face. I am staring at her fingers. At my cock inside her. At our bellies, so shiny and close. Sweat drips down my thighs. Sweat drips inside the crook of my arm. “Come,” I whisper with tears welling up in my eyes. 

I feel my own clit in my fingers again. I feel it swollen beyond belief. I come and clench my stomach. I double over. My mouth opens wide. Gasping. Silent. 

Five days. I need her. I need this.

Trouser snake

Trouser snake