Oh yes

“Is this for you? It’s not for me.”  Oh, someone who likes more than to use me as a rubbing post*! Wait, what do we… oh yes.

This is what sex is supposed to be like. Her hand between my legs. Mouths on each others’ bodies.  Yes, wrestle with me to pull off my shirt, no hers, to open my legs, to take off her panties.

The smell of her hair.  How is it that the smell of a girl’s hair gets into my pillows, my clothes, my body?  That direct olfaction connection from molecule to brain to groin is intoxicating.  Her wetness makes me ache.

No I can’t just lay here without touching her, I won’t come that way, and that is what she wants, isn’t it? Unlike the last one*, who collapsed when she was done, always.

I don’t want her to stop me when I make her feel good. Why has she let me get this far? A fuck is never just a fuck.  Am I more than just convenient? I want to know. I want. I want. I want her clit in my mouth. I want her to punish me. I don’t want her to leave.

*I had an ex who liked grinding way more than touching me with her mouth or hands. She also wasn’t very reciprocating in the sack.