Just read a post on a friend's LiveJournal... you know, one of those friends who knows who I am. She has the guts to set her 'current mood' to oversexed and write explicitly about the, quote, mind-blowing sex she's been having recently. This girl seems to have quite a lot of sex, except that it'd been a year since the last boy, so - with personal experience behind me - I sympathise. But reading her joyous shouts of rapture in excited prose form got me thinking.
I had mind-blowing sex last night. I mean, I really did. I'd wanted to have sex with her (TD, not my oversexed American friend) since... well, always, but specifically had been in the mood since about 5pm. Had a sneaky feel of her knee under the table in the pub; didn't go any higher than that, but it got my important bits working. And so we continued our day, with me rather tightly wound. Not that I'm sure she noticed. I shall have to ask.
And lo, the end came to our day. Well, sort of. In fact, the DVD of Lewis was in the laptop and we were about to watch, but then I sort of... accidentally took my pants off. Well, that is, deliberately. But I say accidentally because it's funnier, and because I was turned on. To be honest, TD was naked at this point and in my bed and I was wound-up and if I hadn't taken my pants off at that moment, they would have probably been ripped off from within, so it wasn't really my fault. I was showing great consideration for my underwear.
It didn't take long for the laptop to end up sitting on a chair elsewhere in the room, leaving space free on the bed. It also didn't take long for me to penetrate her. How I'd missed that - yes, it had only been a few days, but I'd missed it. And here's the explicit bit, folks: when one's penis enters one's lady's vagina, if one takes a short grace period before moving, there's a feeling of the pussy walls sort of... moulding their way around one's shape. It's almost like they're getting (re)acquainted with the feeling of you inside her, against those walls which are so adaptable. That's what I'd missed... the feeling of being inside. The feeling of being taken... the feeling of the walls reshaping themselves.
Of course, I'd missed the orgasms as well. Hers. That took slightly longer... not that that is a bad thing at all, you understand.
"I've got a problem," I groaned.
"Wha'?..." she gasped.
"I can't stop!" I replied.
"Don't stop!" she moaned.
"I don't want to!" I yelled.
"Good!" she purred.
Then she came. Come to think of it, so did I.
Down I went, pressing my tongue against her clit. Swirl swirl swirl, lick lick lick. She came again... I felt the ripple, I tasted the cum, I had her legs clamped hard around my head. Yep, that makes two. Back up again. Still hard? Yes. Good. Back in. Thrust.
I don't know about you, but I've always found that girls' orgasms get increasingly lustful the more they have. I must test this theory. So there I was, on top, bracing the waves of something like the four-millionth orgasm. Or the fourth. Fuck, they all just ran together, who's counting when you're having this good a time? Or, actually, this good a ride? I even stopped for a second or two to reposition, and I still felt myself moving.
That, my friend, is what mind-blowing sex is. Now, would you mind being more explicit about yours?
Shame she won't ever see this. But I'm pretty sure that she has better things to do than reading blogs...