Sexuality Happens

As soon as she hopped into bed, I started to warm up, with her body next to mine. She pushed herself up on her arms (mmmm…did I even mention that I’m a total arm girl?) and lifted herself over me, dropping down her head to kiss me. My hands wrapped in her hair, I pulled her to me, pressing her lips more against mine. I love having someone on top of me, making me work for kisses. I mean, granted, holding me down is even better, but with a cute girl hovered above me, who am I to complain?

Her kisses were still fairly soft, more than the last time, but definitely not aggressive. It took me time to get used to this; I can’t remember the last time someone kissed me like that. In fact, I don’t know if anyone ever has. Usually, it’s the more frantic, full of pressure, biting and nibbling type of kisses. I don’t know if it’s a testament to who I’m usually kissing, but it was definitely different.

We made out for a while…again, it’s nice to find someone who enjoys the good, old fashioned make out. But I was naked with the covers rubbing softly against my skin, and I’ll admit, I was hoping for a bit more than making out tonight. Gently, she moved to my neck, and began to kiss there, quite a bit harder. Mmmmm. Until…

“Wait. Below the neckline please; I can’t have those bruises for work.” It’s been a long time since I had to think about that; porn and sex toy companies don’t really care if you come to work with bruises or marks from sex. But my guess is the political types probably do. M kept kissing, but a little lighter, until she found her way to my collar bone, and kissed/bit me hard enough for me to arch up slightly in pain. I thanked my lucky stars I’d explained the concept of a safeword before, and my lucky constellations that she had grasped the concept, because it felt deliciously good, but hurt enough to gasp, yet she kept going.

As she worked her way to my breasts and nipples, my nails left light marks as they traced over her back, working over her shoulders and lower back, around her sports bra and stopping at the edge of her pants. I was feeling fairly under dressed, but honestly, wasn’t that concerned. My mind was pretty much on the trail her mouth was blazing on my right nipple, and her fingers gently pinching my left.

Breathily, I got out “you can pretty much be as rough with them as you’d like.” I didn’t expect much; M’s kissing style had me pegging her as a sweet and gentle sex partner. Until her teeth grabbed my right nipple and pulled it out from my body. Nails, mine of course, scratched down her back, punctuated by an “mmmmmmm” from me. Alternating nipples, and switching between biting and pinching, she gave them a good run for their money. I was almost in a trance from the nipple play, my clit throbbing and hips bucking up against her, where her mouth moved.

Her mouth kissed down my stomach. I had a fleeting thought of “wow, 2 years ago, I would have pushed her away, not wanting her to see or touch my stomach.” A testament to how far I’ve come (no pun intended); I wound my hands in her hair after completely throwing off the covers. Her mouth created a trail that continue to my hip bones, as she gently pulled down black lace boy shorts to reach them.

Oh my. I know I love hip bones on others…kissing them, and making them jump, but no one had ever kissed mine. Phenomenal, and slightly craze inducing, I loved it. However, I had no time to really contemplate this, as she was now tugging at the front of the lace, and her mouth kissed my mons.

I love the way mouths feel on bodies. M’s felt absolutely exquisite. As I thrust up into her, subconciously, she started to pull my underwear over my hips.

“Can I take these off?”

“YES. PLEASE.” I lifted my hips to help her, taking care not to put pressure on my injured foot. Black lace ended up in a pile on the floor, and I was thinking about how I loved clothing being strewn around the room when my thoughts were burst open by the feel of her mouth on my lips, parting them, her tongue flicking against me.

I once read in some romance novel (circa high school) about “his tongue was my undoing.” At the time, I thought it was extreme hyperbole. However, with someone who knows their way about a vulva, I have definitely had a “tongue be my undoing,” and at the moment, I was becoming undone.

After a few more moments of this pleasure, she slid up the bed next to me as I let my legs fall open for her. She lay next to me, skin touching skin as she reached over to stroke my clit. A few moments of this was fine, but I wanted her inside. Damn it.

Ever since I figured out how I got off, I’ve gotten a bit bossier in bed (unless I’m in a sub role, and then obviously not). Not in a rude kind of way, but in a “this is what I need, please provide it if and when you’re willing” type of schtick. However, I didn’t know if we were at that point. Some people love being told the right way my body works, and some think it’s an imposition (note: I don’t usually have sex with the second type more than once). Leaning towards her, whispering in her ear…

“Will you….please…fuck me.” I wanted her inside me, and I wanted it now, but I wasn’t sure how to express it without turning her off. Gently, she slid a finger into me. I groaned as she slowly moved it in and out, lightly stroking me inside.

As my hips undulated onto her hand, and her finger worked in and out of me, I realized I wanted more fingers, and I wanted it faster, but again…I wasn’t sure how to phrase it in the least bossy-like sense. Luckily, that one finger felt sensational, and as she continue to press into me, I came.

Lying back, I let me breath pattern return to normal, shook my head to try and clear my vision, and I rolled next to her, my back pressing into her as she wrapped her arm around me. Earlier, we’d had the big spoon/little spoon discussion. Philosophically, we were at an impasse; she thought there was nothing better than wrapping your arms around a girl, where as I am of the mindset that having someone’s arms wrapped around you is one of the best feelings in the world. The eternal sexual silverware debate. However, while we couldn’t come to an agreement, our opposing view points fit together perfectly in my bed…as well as, well, as wells as two spoons in a kitchen drawer.

We lay like that for a while, M’s arm wrapped around me. I thanked her (apparently, I’m told this is weird, but I like to thank people for being part of my climaxes) and we chatted a bit. And here’s where my awkwardness comes in. Now, I love banter, and I love that M chatted a bit during, and lots post sex. But then I really did it. I said something, and didn’t hear a response.

Me: You know, this is usually the point where you say something. Like “no, no, thank YOU,” or “you’re welcome” or “my anus is bleeding” or SOMETHING.
M: *silence* Wait, WHAT?
Me: You know from the rejected cartoons? My spoon is too big, I am a banana!
M: What???
Me: You’ve never seen them? Silly hat party? I’m feeling fat and sassy? My anus is bleeding?
M: No, I don’t think I have.
Me: Oh. Well, this is awkward then.

Luckily for me, she was amused, and I explained the whole thing. She thought it was funny, and enjoyed my awkwardness. After discussion, we decided that “my anus is bleeding” would be a great safeword for those in the know, because you’d just start laughing. And then we were backing to spooning. I asked her what, if anything, I was allowed to do for her, and when she replied nothing, we got in an interested discussion about the stone identity, trusting people, and more. We also had a conversation about me trying to not be bossy. She said I was fine, and that she’d much rather someone tell her what to do then have a girl lying in bed, obviously not enjoying it, but not saying what she wanted. I’ve never had that happen, probably because I vette people with my sexual conversations first; if we can’t talk about sex while just chatting, how can we talk about it in bed when there is action happening?

Then her alarm went off…remember, she had wanted to be home by 3. Fucking alarms. Unlike last time, I couldn’t turn it off and hide it in my bra, as well, I wasn’t really wearing one. I was actually not wearing anything except for earrings and a chain mail necklace.

I don’t know how it happened. I think I turned off her alarm and had her roll over onto me for a few more kisses. And then I noticed her arms again. Some girls are ass girls, some leg girls, some breast girls. I, my gentle readers, am an arm girl. As I once tried to explain it to someone, it’s about power, and feeling safe (how stereotypical and traditionally un-feminist of me), and, well, “all the better to hold you down with my dear.” Earlier that night, I told her I could tell she had a bit of top in her, I just needed to figure out a way to bring it out. Here was my chance.

Fingers entwined in hers, I planted our hands by my head, and made a faux struggle to get up. “Wow, you played football in high school, right? Does this mean I can say I was with a football player?”

“That was a while ago, but sure. I’m a golfer too!”

“Holy moley, so many new things in one night! Those are some nice arms.” I wiggled a bit under her, my body pressing against her. “But I weigh like twice as much as you…I bet you couldn’t hold me down.” (impressed at how I’m learning to use those Femme wiles of mine?)

“What are you talking about? Of course I can!” And cue the struggle. Pinning me, she leaned in to kiss me, gave me one kiss, and pulled away. As I tried to move upwards, she held me down, bringing her face just close enough to mine that I could just barely not reach it, actually kissing me a few times every now and then.

After a few trust struggles, I began to try to get away in earnest. Each time she forced my arms back to the bed was like a strike of lightening to my clit. At one point, she had both hands pinned above my head, and I was essentially putty in her hands. I busted out some fast action ninja moves and got my hands away from her, grabbing her head, and bringing her in for a kiss.

“I won!”

“That’s not fair. You used ninja moves.”

“Have you ever met a ninja who didn’t fight?”

“I wasn’t ready for ninja moves. I am now though.”

“Ok, well, I suppose we’ll have to have a redo then.” I laughed, placing my hands next to my head, and waited for her to assume the position. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for any crazy moves you pull.” And so the struggle resumed. I was quite impressed. I’m a big girl, and she is not, and she held me for quite a while. Eventually, I got away, and pulled her into me, kissing her roughly and aggressively, so incredibly turned on by our mini wrestling session. I whispered in her ear “I won.”

She placed her leg between mine, giving me something to rub against as she grabbed and bit my already sensitive and quite sore nipples. I almost laughed as I contemplated using “my anus is bleeding” as a safe word. The idea was pushed from my brain as she moved her mouth down my body again. Remembering the last weekend, when I was left with the worst case of blue ovaries ever, and knowing that she had planned to leave early, I said, between gasps, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who said I wasn’t going to finish?”

And between that and the wrestling, I was beyond ready to go. She slid a finger into me. “Can I have another, please?” As her second digit went into my awaiting cunt, I gasped. They fit very well, pressing against my g-spot. Mouth in a perfect O, she started to move in and out, fucking me. So much better. The earlier round was good sex. I could tell this was going to be great sex.

As she fucked me, I asked for it harder, thrusting my hips onto her hand, riding her the best I could, gasping each time the pads of her finger tips brushed my g-spot. I got into a good rhythm, and was really enjoying myself until she leaned forward, touching her tongue to my clit.

I was undone.

I came. Hard. A few times, maybe 3 or 4 or 6? Each time I would start to subside, she’d just keep going, fingers moving in and out of me. I moved across the bed, my head tapping the wall at some point, and wound up lying almost side ways. Fingers still in me, she slowed down.

“Want more?” M asked with an impish grin.

“Can. you. give. me. a. second. to breathe….please?” My eyes met hes. Fuck. This was amazing. She waited a bit, until my body betrayed me, and starting moving of its own accord up and down on her fingers. And then she fucked me some more. Orgasms just blended into me clamping a pillow down over my face as I moaned and groaned and screamed and did all the things I used to think was people faking it, but I’ve since realized is how I come when I’m really turned on and being properly fucked.

Finally, she let up, and returned to lie next to me. I was spent, lie face down, sideways across the bed. I tried to look at her, but my vision was blurry. I tried to roll over, but my body was jelly. I just lay there, attempting to get my breath back, attempting to think about anything other than her inside me.

After sometime, and my requisite “thank you”, I was finally able to roll over enough to be awkward again.

Me: I think I’d like to keep you as a pet.
M: *looks thoughtful* Really? What kind of pet?
Me: Um, a pet a could have sex with of course.
M: Wait, WHAT?

Apparently, when I’d said that, she had started to think about what kind of animal she’d like to be, and was just deciding upon being an alligator when I hit her with the sex part. Yes. Awkward. Yes. Totally me. And yes, she was amused and totally cool with it. We spent some of the rest of the evening joking about alligators and sex, and I left her some bite marks to remember the joke by.

We spooned a bit more, and then I realized it was almost 5. Neither of us is very good sleeping in bed with other people, so it was completely normal for us to get up, get dressed, kiss and banter a bit more, and for me to walk her to the door, asking her to text me when she got home safely.

After she left, I sat there thinking. *This* was what I wanted. Fun sex, good sex, hot sex, punctuated by banter, amusement, deep conversations. Without the stuff that makes me uncomfortable. Without the stuff that makes me overthink. Just good, hot, amusing, intelligent hook-ups. It was some of the most fun sex I’d had in a really long time. Sex with K was intense (hello needles in my back, crazy trust issues and ridiculous amounts of lust on my part). Sex with C was a connection thing; two people finding each other, exploring each other, being there for each other. This was the sex that I want to have all the time, the fun, laid back, yet still incredibly amazing sex.

She texted me when she got home, thanking me for a fun night. I wrote back, thanking her. She wrote “you’re welcome” and I drifted off to bed, to get up in 3 hours. I had a slight bruise on my neck, a more noticable one on my collar bone, and a few tiny dots of bruises on my arms from the struggle. Not as many as I’d hoped, as I like marks; they make me think about the fun times I had. M is marked up a bit; scratches on her back, and a delightfully bitten and bruised shoulder.

She left Monday, to move back for her last year of college. In PA no less. Actually, about 20, 25 minutes from where J lives. Ironic, no? I’d love to see her at thanksgiving or winter break, but have no expectations. I actually would love to bring her to Thunder next year, and see what comes of that. We shall see.

It was good. It was what I needed. It was the right amount of caring, sex, chatting, and fun. I don’t get people who “just fuck” and leave out the kissing and spooning. I need some of that too. Not a lot, and I am bad at sleeping in bed with others, but I do like that hint of a connection. But I also need the hot and heavy sex, and I got that too. Add in the banter and the comfortability with my awkwardness, and all in all, it was an awesome night.

-Essin’ Em