“Are you sure you’re ready?”
No I wasn’t sure! The last time Michael and I had attempted anal sex with me on the receiving end met with disaster. (See the story here). I didn’t want to fail or disappoint, and I was so nervous.
I wanted it. I wanted him. I wanted to feel him slide smoothly inside of me. I wanted to be lost in the pleasure of his arms. I wanted to be consumed wholly, and I wanted to have anal sex.
I just wasn’t sure I was ready. Sometimes, athletes and actors talk about being nervous. Those jitters that seem to take over the entirety of their being to the lose of anything else. In the midst of these jitters, just when the curtain is about to raise or they take their first step onto the field, the sudden blazing moment of clarity comes and nothing is left to be worried about, no fear or anxiety. This is it, it’s time to perform.
That in no way happened to me. Not even a little. I was just a ball of anxiety to the point where (and I had to be told later because I didn’t realize it was out loud) I was MUTTERING for Christ’s sake; “ok, ok, just relax, relax, relax. Ok, you can do this! Relax!” I’m sure this did nothing but convince Michael of my readiness.
Then, a soft sigh on my neck as he gently kissed the spot behind my ear that instantly sends pleasure through me. A whispered compliment of how beautiful my ass was and how very much he wanted me. I was ready. Still nervous- but ready.
Michael, ever the in-tune lover, slid in like a pro. Smoothing skin here, a moan of pleasure/encouragement, a vibrator to keep my body humming and ready to find release. This was the point we had gotten to last time, I decided, why raise the bar too high? If he got in anything over one stroke I was ahead of the game, I’d take it!
Michael ever so slowly pulled out a couple inches. I didn’t move. Steady like a rock I was! I was the champ, I had done it, we could call it a game! With my flagging confidence bolstered, I thought, “well…we’ve made it this far. Let’s see how far we can take this…” Within the first few tentative strokes I decided that I could handle it. Still weird, still a bit uncomfortable, but I could handle this. Kind of.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah, I can do it, I can do it… But Michael? You’re gonna have to hurry up ok? I don’t know how long I can do this”
“Ok.” Half stroke. “Oh God, you have no idea how easy that’s going to be.” Michael was true to his word. Hot, passionate, extremely brief, then suddenly, a shudder. A tightening of the grasping of my hips, my name escaping his lips in a part groan part sigh. I instantly perked up.
“Wait… Did you cum? DID YOU DO IT!?!”
“Yes, I came” was the chuckling reply.
Then as quickly as I had maneuvered away the first time we had anal penetration, I flipped around in a flash and did the only thing anyone who has just successfully had anal sex from beginning to end would do…
I high five’d him. That’s right. I threw my splayed hand in the air and gave him the heartiest high five I believe I have ever given in my life. The words that accompanied this were a bit jumbled, but they went something along the lines of.
“Oh-my-God-yay! I-knew-we-could-do-it. I AM FUCKING AWESOME!”
I’ve found at times like these, it’s best to maintain an air of worldliness and refinement. The look on Michael’s face was priceless. He looked at me, looked at his hand that he’s put up immediately in reflex to receive my proffered digits, looked at me again, and in the most deadpan voice inquired, “did you really just high five me?”
I paused for a moment in my victory dance/butt wiggle to assure him that yes, yes I had just high five’d him and he had better prepare himself for more if I so chose to share in the delight of accomplishment with him.
Any other man would’ve thought I was crazy. Any other man wouldn’t have cared enough about me to take his time and do it properly, and he wouldn’t have even have gotten that far. This was Michael however and he was all the things I could ask for in a lover. So he chuckled, shook his head again while looking at his hand, then cuddled and kissed me.
It was a great experience and incredibly pleasurable. We have since gone on to continue our anal explorations and it keeps getting better. We don’t do it all the time, but neither of us certainly have any objections to it anymore.
I am also happy to report, like the conquering heroine that I am, no air was passed that day. So while Michael got the prize for taking it first, I got the one for controlling it after.
(Interested in what I did to him previously? check out stick-it-in-his-ass
It was a temptation to push and pull the fragile silken threads from off of her shoulders and expose the breasts which distended the fabric with promise. Her yielding yet unhurriedly undressing made me want to hurt her so as to create some reaction towards me, as I was reacting to her. My gaze was ravenous, admiring, worshiping; she felt it try to penetrate past her reserve, felt how attentive I was to every gesture or movement. She met my gaze completely unashamedly and I did not back down from the intensity, did not pretend how lustful I desired her.
Still, she moved passively, and the more I wanted to behave violently towards her. She was removing clothing with confident deliberateness as if it was a ritual that could not be changed. She looked unapologetic at me and smiled, flashed small even teeth between full lips, and the glimpse of skin on bared shoulders when the silk parted caught the light and held it like the flesh was also made of satin. She held the parted pieces as if unintentionally at her waist, the folds teasingly caught on her stiffened nipples. She continued to look at me as her hand moved away to beckon me closer, the cascading silk revealing a soft satin skin and I needed no further encouragement now that she showed me the smallest interest.
She had lace bra and matching panties with garters, and I’m sure that the creation of lingerie was divine but I was beyond observing heaven; the waiting had been hell and I wanted the heated passion that refused to be tampered down. I rushed to hold my body against hers, my slanted mouth crashed down upon those soft inviting lips so hard I might have tasted blood, pressed her hard into the mattress, pinned her down with hips while my hands were everywhere at once and murmured a false apology as fingers grabbed her stockinged thigh and gripped the gossamer threads to render them apart. Fingertips pressed against warm skin, pushed the thigh to bend to my will and allow my further between her legs, and traveled down the length to the delicate arch of her foot, dragging the destroyed fabric with it.
It made an excellent gag to twist and shove between her tempting lips, tying it along the side of her head. I was unsure if those lips curved into a smile at the reactionary way I was handling her, imagined it if nothing else in my fervor to possess every inch of skin. A knife scratched up the length of leg to travel the cold steel along the side of her hip, the lace parted like soft butter and I gripped it to shove over, exposing the pink glistening of her sex. I quite liked the other half of her leg still the memento of damnable temptation that I was removing to suit my own desires.
More carefully, I slid the blade between the hollow valley of her breasts slowly and watched for her to dare deny this pleasure. Her eyes were half mast as if she too were mesmerized at being bared in such a way, so yanked upwards with such force that the fabric held for just the slightest to also arch her back up towards me before splitting with the force and yielding her softness back onto the mattress and the vision of breasts and pinpointed nipples to my gaze.
My hands would be everywhere at once, so would my mouth, until her cries and pleas beckoned towards heaven.
As I lay in my bath the steam rises and clouds the mirror, a damp tendril of hair curves around my breast as it shimmers in the candle light.
A sigh escapes my lips in the form of your name.
I run my fingers lightly down, smoothing a stray strand of hair from my forehead, brushing a fingertip across a taunt nipple, trailing my hand in the water. The scent of flowers rises from the steamy heat but all I can smell is your body, all I can taste is your mouth.
All I want is your arms, and the heat that I feel to be created by the friction of our bodies as we find madness and sanity in each other. I’m waiting for you with an ache only you can fill and a desire that is unending.
I wait with a sigh escaping my lips in the form of your name.
Time to share. I used to do this quite a bit, and now there’s a new need to share sexy things that I come across: silencing the sex blogging community however social media can.
Girl on the Net certainly doesn’t need to be shared- she reaches a broad audience, but still, her post about being On Top was great. I like how she talks about how the porn position is not something she signed up to look like and how even being on top is less about a woman’s pleasure in that position. Makes sense why it took me so long to get off on top myself.
Remittance Girl wrote a piece about how to navigate creeps or creepy comments as an erotic author. I like her views on this as they are similar to my own.
Livy Libertine writes about Coercive Rape, and this is the power behind being a sex blogger: it’s not just sexy all the time, it’s real and sometimes painful, but often educational. Coercive rape can feel traumatic as if it was physically forced and have all the baggage that goes with it. I’ve felt something similar but didn’t know how to define it, so chastised myself for being emotional and ridiculous.
Pieces of Jade made me cry. She is terrified to go Memory Lane, and I understand: it’s part of why I struggle on this blog now. This blog was MY SISTER and MY HUSBAND, I’ve lost them both – I lost them both officially within months of each other. My world hasn’t been the same. Thank you, Jade, for articulating some of the complicated emotions that go on.
Tabitha Rayne writes a scene about bondage, waiting, and being cut out. So hot.
Two bloggers for the price of one: Life of Elliott writes about masturbating to a post he sees from a fellow blogger. It’s hot, it’s real, it’s real hot.
Another angle taken during a partial suspension