I want him. It’s a deep ache that ambles between my gut and my chest, making me crave his smell and desperate for his touch. I want my hand tangling in his chest hair. I want my lips around his cock. I want the smell of his come in my nose and the taste of his balls in my mouth. I want my pussy wrapped tight around him as he looks into my eyes and kisses me deeply. I want his cock in my arse as he strokes my hair from my eyes and kisses me softly. He is not here and I want him.
Less than 24 hours ago, he had his cock in my pussy, in my arse. It goes against all the rules but anal sex is all about feeling him come inside me. We’ve been tested but it still feels taboo. And it’s the most intimate love making we ever share.
I love feeling him push his way slowly into me, moaning as he feels me opening to him. We usually pile on the lube but sometimes, when I’m feeling really relaxed – usually after a glass of wine or two – I love to slide him inside me with the help of nothing other than my spit.
He never forces the pace, just lets my arse slowly open up to take him inside. I love feeling my body acquiesce to him: allowing him to enter me in the most intimate way, feeling his flesh against mine, the warmth of his cock inside my tightly stretched hole. I love it when he spits on his finger and runs it around my arsehole, loosening me up, trying to make me as comfortable as possible as he throbs inside me, making me flinch at his girth.
I love the feeling of conquering my own body: of persuading it to let my lover inside me even though there might be a little pain. He’s gentle – until he doesn’t need to be gentle any more – but my arse is still relatively unused to sex. He is the one who has brought my arse to life: made me crave him inside me.
Last night, when I managed to wriggle back onto him, high enough to use saliva alone, I felt such a sense of achievement. And when his dick lubricated my arsehole with its own juices, and he slid deeper inside me, I wanted him as far as he could go. I pushed into him, grinding back, taking him deeper – and felt my pussy getting wetter with every passing second. Knowing he was lubricating my arsehole with his own juices made me feel hot as fuck.
And when he realised that his arse-fucking was making me wet, his reaction made me all the wetter.
Our anal sex is not the carnal, violent act of porn films – though there are some porn star moments. It’s loving; sharing; closer than close as my heart tells my body to relax and allow my lover in. I want to feel him shoot inside me; I want to feel the warmth filling me, his seed flooding me, his juices trickling out of my arsehole afterwards, soothing my aching muscles. I want him to own my body. I want to give my body to him.
My arse gives up the fight too early. Pain outweighs pleasure. I have to move and feel bitter disappointment: I’ve come so near to what I want – to giving him what I want to give him. And now my body has let me down. It is a traitor.
Luckily, it’s a traitor with multiple facets. One condom later and he’s buried inside me, fucking me hard, pile-driving into my cunt as I hook my ankles around his waist and dig my heels into his lower back, pushing him deeper inside me. I lean back, tilting my pelvis to give him access to every part of my body I can. We breathe each other’s kisses, suck each other’s lips, grip each other’s shoulders, paw each other’s bodies. My pussy is getting wetter with every ‘slap, slap, slap’. I can feel my orgasm building, ejaculation looming.
He pushes so far inside me that I have no idea where I end and he begins but it doesn’t matter and we are one and we are breathing and we are biting and we are silently screaming and he pulses in me as I pulse around him and we clutch and hold and breathe and love and sweat and breathe and kiss.
And we separate.
I wish I had his come inside me as a physical memory. But all I have is my muscles, clasping at air, and his body next to me; his chest hairs drawing me to stroke them; his chest calling me to lie on it; his cock wilting slowly under the condom.
I peel it off, cup his hand with my cock and drift to sleep, arsehole still aching in a poignant reminder of what could have been.
I want him.