Tuesday, 29 December 2009

Nocturnal Emissions

Last night I woke up, too hot under the duvet, sweaty skin tingling with cold outside it. The cover was too small for us. Virgil seemed restless. I lay awake thinking of my many failings and wished for escape back into sleep.

Virgil's sleeping hands wandered over my body, as they often do in the night. He also loves to grind his nocturnal hard-ons against my drowsing arse. I have woken in the night to find him asleep on top of me, pushing his way into my cunt, and I haven't stopped him. Fortunately he seems to have acquired a subconscious override on that particular drive.

I sat up to look for some water and he bobbed up too, asking in a clear voice with no sleep in it what was up. We drank. I told him that I was bothered because I was shit at my job, couldn't remember the name of someone's boyfriend and I didn't have a friend to bring to Virgil's New Year's party.

He comforted me. I was too hot. He was cold and needed to cuddle me, but where our bodies connected it burned. I shook out the duvet and then the pillows. We lay side by side and I worked out that I could stay the right temperature if his leg touching mine was counterbalanced by my opposite hand being outside the duvet.

We thought of the elements a modern day nativity scene might contain. Would the Jesus have been born in a shopping basket or wheelie bin chamber, attended by stray animals and three passing drunks in the light of the Star Food and Wine?

I wanted to give Virgil a blow job the other day. Without particularly needing anything myself, I had a desire to render him helpless with pleasure while I played with his cock and balls, to prolongue the experience until he gave himself up to me.

That morning we had started having sex and he had refused to fuck me until he had already made me come. I had resisted this for quite a while. I even considered pushing him away but I enjoy his mouth and fingers too much. He has a knack of finding his way into all the right places, so that he goes more and more gently and deeply, everywhere, until I have these strong, deep overwhelming orgasms. But after that being fucked can be something of an anti-climax.

I don't often come while I'm being fucked, unless it's from behind, with his cock stroking my G-spot and a vibrator on my clit. To come from fucking alone, missionary style, is one of my favourite things and a rare treat. I have to be really turned on and really relaxed, and then it can happen.

That morning I would have liked that, but I gave in to Virgil's mouth and fingers instead. Then I wanted to give the experience back to him later. So I kissed and touched and worked around his balls, thighs, belly. I made my palms slippery with spit and stroked and kneaded his balls as I wanked and sucked his cock.

A little less teeth, he gasped. Sorry, I said, and I concentrated.

I do love sucking his cock, playing with his body and feeling him respond. I get excited seeing and tasting the beads of pre-come that squeeze out of the tip.

As he got more excited we stopped and started a few times. I wanted to hold him near the edge of coming. I didn't want him to be either hurrying towards or backpedalling from orgasm. But as I slowed right down and started to tease his cock he pulled the hair on the back of my head really hard and tried to push my mouth down onto it. I didn't let him. He's not strong enough to force me.

Then he pushed me off and said, stop. You need to be less, like, complicated, when I'm really excited like this. Just simple sucking and wanking is good - the other stuff gets too sensitive and almost painful. I said ok. Sorry. We stopped, and I don't know whether that was what he wanted or whether he was too proud or cross or simply too sore to ask for it. I suppose I'm not as good at oral sex as I thought. Then again, there's something to be said for the spirit in which it's received.

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