Friday & Saturday June 27, 2010

Posted by Leah in Fucking

Friday

A new city on Tuesday. Wednesday settling in to a new apartment (fortunately it is furnished). Thursday is spent under covers (naked), fighting off jet lag, allergies, and exhaustion. Friday, around noontime, I took the laptop to bed. The boyfriend and I had Skype sex. I brought myself to orgasm with a glass dildo. In the afternoon, after lunch, I watched porn. By evening, I was so goddamned horny, I was determined to bust my London cherry.

I wore the shortest, tightest skirt in my closet. Abercrombie or Fitch (one of the two) had artfully placed a hole that flashed the inner part of my left thigh. I purposely let the top of the black thong show over the waistband in front; it rode up between my cheeks in back. To complete the outfit, I went braless in a low neck, too tight vintage t-shirt that bared the lower midriff.

Dressing like a skank doesn’t make it any easier to hook up. But I wanted to feel like a slut when I did.

At the clubs, I drank pricy cocktails I didn’t pay for. I also drank much watery beer. I danced. Around 1 am, I left with the first boy I found who would do. In his apartment, we had a gin and tonic. In his bedroom, once we had stripped ourselves bare, there was perfunctory sucking of cock and licking of twat. Mostly we got down to the business. It wasn’t the greatest sex I have had. But the cock did its job. I came, feet clutching the air for purchase.

We messed around a little afterwards and shared the bed. I disappointed him by not fucking again. The boy snored, and I slept fitfully. I left his place around 6 am and made my way home.

~

Saturday

It was the same basic plan: find a cute walking dildo and use it for sex. Last night, I wore a beige skirt that wasn’t meant for bending over and a light, white shirt with a couple of buttons fastened that would have gone completely transparent in the heat of the clubs had it not been for the darkness inside. To start, I also had on a gray mesh bra that emphasized my chest. Somehow, this morning when I dressed, I couldn’t find the bra with the rest of my clothes. The T-back G-string was still there, however! (Of the two, I would rather have lost the knickers.)

I danced awhile at the club, rubbing my body up against boys and girls — mostly boys. My ears rang with the beat. My soul didn’t. Dancing upright wasn’t my intent. I didn’t feel like going through the motions before going through the motions.

In a new city, where I am perfectly anonymous, I felt aggressive about my sexuality. I went up to two guys, who were standing next to each other at the bar. I offered to go home with the one who could kiss better. The guy I picked was brave enough to slide his hand down my back and cop a feel of my ass through the tight skirt.

I had chosen the right one. This man knew how to fuck. Each time he came at me from above, my legs opened wider for him. The muscles in his forearms stood in relief as he thrust himself into me. I raised myself from the mattress to meet him halfway. We shifted positions whenever he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. Usually, that was whenever my pussy quaked around him. The first time he came, he did so pulling my head backward by the hair while his cock convulsed in my cunt.

The second time we fucked, it was slower paced and less intense. I rode him from above, spinning my pelvis and gyrating my ass around the penis inside me. His hands on my hips guided my movements. After he filled another condom with his seed, my pussy held him as his erection diminished. I buried my face in his chest and pressed my lips over the smooth skin, licking perspiration from the hard plates of his muscles.

In the morning, we fucked a final time. Gods and men enjoy when their names are shouted in ecstasy.