queer dream II

I dreamed there was a naked woman on the floor. I knew I wasn’t supposed to have sex with her. She was lying there on her back. Her skin was olive. I didn’t know her—we weren’t friends. Yet she was available to me.

I thought that even though I wasn’t supposed to, maybe I could suck on her nipples for just a minute. So I did, and it was beautiful. Then I thought, maybe I could lick her cunt for just a second. My tongue licked her delicate little clit carefully.

I looked at the pattern of her pubic hair. I licked again and again—then I really needed to go.

This dream stayed with me for days afterward.

his mouth

When I kiss him, I feel turned on. His lips are soft and beautiful. I slip my tongue inside. Our mouths are communicating with touch. His feels like mine: vulnerable, tender.

I asked, Would you mind if I told you that your mouth is like a luscious little cunt? He said that would be fine.

fucking in the afternoon sunlight

The bed was covered in sunlight. I was in the bedroom doorway and took off all my clothes. Are you going to take a shower? he asked.

Why would I take a shower! I said. I already washed this morning. I felt clean and very healthy.

I lay down in the light. The bed was warm. He took off all his clothes and joined me. I admired him: his muscular legs in particular, his cock, his balls.

Does the sun feel good on your cock? I asked.

It just feels normal, he said.

God, it feels good on my cunt, I thought and gently touched the warm, fuzzy outer lips so warmed by my own heat and by the sunlight.

Can I fuck you? I asked.

He assented, and we kissed. He touched my tits, and I went down on him. His cock tasted good in my mouth, and his balls smelled beautiful and earthy. Everything was glowing in the light, and I felt like I was in a world of pure happiness, where the only thing that mattered was sex.

I touched my clit. I was wet, and it felt slippery on my fingers. It also felt large and surprised me with it substantialness. Sometimes when I'm taking a shower, I touch myself like this, and it feels so good, I told him. I remembered the feeling of surprise when my soapy fingers slip inside my labia to touch my clit and find it's big and alert, ready for sex though no sex is planned.

He was lying there, jacking off, watching me as I touched myself.

I'm going to massage your dick, but I'm going to use my cunt, I said. Is that okay with you?

That's what I want, he said.

I got a condom ready, sucked his dick until my need to suck his dick was over, slipped the condom onto his waiting cock, and impaled myself on it. The first moment felt a little frantic. I was very excited to have him inside of me and to be in control. I fucked him quickly, almost as if I were afraid the sex would be taken away from me.

Then I slowed down, feeling more comfortable and myself. I took his cock inside of me as far as it can go. The motions I made fucking him were small. He went from very deep inside of me to slightly deeper. We were jamming it in as far as possible.

We murmured and grunted together. Oh god, I said. Oh god. He played with my tits and sucked one then the other. Our bodies rubbed together. My clit was getting a lot of contact since I was controlling the angles of our contact. I thought of the line of a popular song ten years ago, She only comes when she's on top, and thought it might apply to me this day.

We fucked and fucked this way. My legs started to feel shaky, and I thought I might come, but my body was stubborn, and I stayed at the verge of coming for a long time.

For a change, I put my feet where my knees had been and squatted on the bed, fucking him quickly. There was no chance of me coming this way because my clit had no contact with his body at all, but I know he likes this position, and I did it to see what his reaction would be, to see his expression change or hear him make other sounds.

He loved it as much I thought he would, but he didn't come, and I was running out of energy. I went back to the less-intensive position of before, but the feeling that I was on the edge of coming was over, and I felt tired.

So I dismounted and lay on my back. He climbed on immediately and fucked me enthusiastically. You make me feel so good, he said.

You're wonderful, I said.

He fucked me until he came with groaning cries, and I watched him and held him to me as his body jerked and finally slowed.

Then I masturbated until I was about to come, moved his hand to my clit, and made him push me over the edge. I cried out quietly and had my moment of transcendence.

Then we lay together in the sun for a long time, and what possible reason could there be to get up. I can't remember (this was yesterday).

fucking on the floor during a depression

cautionary note: age play and pretend non-consensual

I've been depressed, and sex hasn't been important to me. I haven't looked at any porn or thought about sex as often as usual.

But last night, he was meditating, and I was cold and sleepy. I curled up on the floor by the heater, and I felt like I was strongly inhabiting my body.

He stopped meditating. He was hungry and made peanut butter toast, then sat with me on the floor. I reached my hand to his package and touched his balls through his soft gray sitting pants, then his cock too.

Dick, I said, and we smiled. When your dick is small, your balls seem huge, and when your dick is big, your balls seem irrelevant, I said. We laughed, and his cock became large and hard in his pants. I rubbed it. He ate his toast.

Can I have access? I asked. He pulled his pants down and set his toast aside as I rubbed my face on his package. I went down on him quickly and evenly.

He lifted up my shirt and touched my tits. I sucked his dick with gentle enthusiasm. Finish your toast, I said, as I went to the bedroom for condoms and lubricant.

Can we pretend I'm a little girl and you're a nice man who has to rape me? I asked, lying back on the floor. I was wearing a soft sweatshirt and a long brown skirt with no underwear beneath.

Yes, he said.

I felt snuggly and lifted the front of my skirt to expose my cunt. Put lubricant on me, I said. This has become one of my favorite parts of sex lately, when he rubs lubricant onto my cunt. First he puts it on my clit. Then he gets more and puts it at my opening and fucks me with his fingers. He's sudden and slightly rough in a way I like. I start to go into a little trance, but I know there's a lot more where that came from.

I'm here to fuck you, he said. But first you have to suck my dick. He shoved his cock into my mouth, and I sucked it directly, without pretense or guile. The taste of him aroused me. I made small whimpering sounds. The head of his cock was at the back of my throat.

Then he pulled out and touched my tits. You have sexy big tits, little girl, he said. I liked how it felt to lie still, quietly, as he touched me.

I'm going to fuck you now, he said. I like how it felt when he positioned himself between my legs. He was completely naked, but I was still wearing a shirt and sweatshirt, long brown skirt, and socks.

He put on a condom and slipped himself inside of me. I stared up into his face. He held me down by my wrists. Do you want to feel what it's like to be pounded? he asked and fucked me hard. I whimpered some more.

I felt warm and happy, content to pretend I was a young girl. He had his way with me, and I watched his expressions change. I felt the warmth of his skin and the weight of his body. I felt blissfully accommodating.

I'm going to come--you're going to feel me come now, he said, and I listened to him groan as he came inside of me, fucking me hard.

Ten minutes later, when his hands were on my body and I was about to come, strong feelings moved inside of me, and the sadness overwhelmed me as the pleasure grew. I felt like I was going to cry but didn't, and then the moment of coming was a great comfort.

moment

Is this too white? he asked, making me look at a manzanita flower in one of his photos.

No! I said. Are you too white?

Yes, he said.

I took off my shirt. Are my breasts too white? I asked.

Your breasts are perfect, he said, staring.

Smart girls want to be told they're pretty, and pretty girls want to be told they're smart. So which am I? I asked, embracing him.

You're a smart, pretty girl who doesn't believe compliments, he said.