Huff

I have my best thoughts on the move, rarely at my laptop. I consider starting a Twitter diary but the joy of that medium escapes me. I resolve to write a very little bit, every day, while things are fresh in my mind so let's start with this:

It's Saturday so I am about to go to work. I could be mistaken but I suspect that Virgil is getting ready for a date. He is meeting someone for lunch. He has shaved and washed his hair and is asking for his blue cardigan. A chance glimpse of his phone earlier told me that the lunch is with Hazel. We played with her a party not so long ago. Afterwards she expressed enthusiasm for another round. I like Hazel, who is an intellectual poly political type, but declined the invitation. She is pretty in a classical way, like an old English painting, a bit soft at the edges and is clever rather than sexy. I think my lack of interest might have been the green light for Virgil, who has a special thing for mostly lesbians. Hazel's poly credentials are impeccable at any rate. 

The private knowledge makes me grumpy and he is unsettled. He wants to know if he is being ignored. I say that I am simply thinking and (when pressed) that they are neither good nor bad thoughts, but that I don't need to discuss them. I am just busy. I half-heartedly wish him a nice day. He leaves. I stew at my laptop. 

I feel hateful but determined to sit this huff out without throwing things or saying anything I'll regret. I don't want to have a discussion about open relationships. I just want Virgil to go the fuck out and get on with it... and then I will see how I feel. The secrecy, if such as thing is possible when two people share a one-bedroom flat and iPhones display unopened text messages to catch the unguarded eye, is at my request. I'm still in favour of a 'don't ask don't tell policy', even if it's less evolved.

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"Good moaning!"

Half awake in bed on Sunday morning, light streams in through fucking useless, landlord-installed WHITE blinds. A triumph of aesthetics over usefulness. Like white carpets the kind of thing that nobody would put in their own home. Virgil moves close behind me and I feel his cock getting hard, as it does most mornings. Today he pulls me round to face him and we simply move against each other, kissing drowsily and touching. I cup my fingers around his cock and the sides of his balls where they hang down, and stroke the hair around them. He pushes me onto my back and starts to go down on me, pushing my hair aside and opening up my pussy with his kisses. I arch my back and open my legs wide, and Virgil pushes a finger inside me while he licks and nuzzles, finding the perfect circular motion on my clit that I know will make me come soon, but I don't want to yet.

"Do I have to come now?" I ask, and he says, "Absolutely," and carries on, making little moans which we both know are a psychological trick (try it: it works) to bring my orgasm closer. But as I am pushing up, reaching, drawing in the breath that will come back out as a yowl, he pulls back and grins at me. I rear up, panting, and say: "Ooh!" and "Ow! I so nearly came just then!" although I am delighted that he didn't quite let me. My pussy is wet and swollen and all pressure against it feels good. Virgil pulls me on top of him then (he's kneeling), and lets me rub myself all up and down his cock until again I really want to come and then he pushes me off.

He holds my chin and looks closely into my eyes. He kisses me and then slaps my cheek several times without breaking eye contact. "I'm going to tie you up a little, ok? I'm going to hurt you some, and then I'm going to fuck your arse, which you're going to like, aren't you?" I agree. He gets up and searches, pulls out a long piece of bondage rope. I hold my wrists and forearms together cooperatively while he ties them firmly, then he pulls my hands between my legs and tells me to get comfortable on my hands and knees because I'm going to be there for a while. The other end of the rope is tied to the foot rail.

Virgil isn't that much of a sadist. First he gets out a vibrator and amuses himself by holding it against my clit until I'm about to lose control and come. Then he takes it away again. He starts caning me gently, so that the pain is just enough to stop me. Then he alternates the cane with the vibrator, building the strokes until it really is stinging and I am genuinely trying to get away from it. I find canes either too gentle or too painful, there's no comfort zone where it hurts just the right amount.

He gives me water and then his cock to suck, pushing it right to the back of my mouth. "You make me so fucking hard for you," he tells me. "I'm going to fuck you now." I am kneeling with my legs spread wide. Virgil puts on a glove and lubes it. Fingers go inside me to make me ready while he fucks my pussy first, then takes out his cock and pushes it into my arse. I straighten up, impaled, and he moves the vibrator against my clit as he thrusts into me. "Come on, my little whore," he whispers in my ear. It's unbelievably good. My body arches and I come long and loud.

"Now your cunt," he says. "Lie on your belly." He puts a fresh condom on and pushes into my soaking wet hole. All I can say, like an idiot, is how wet and how good it is.

To digress: I'm really quite articulate. I have a wide vocabulary. I hate cliches and hackneyed language. Feel free to point them out when I use them. But during sex it's more like this: "Oh. Yeah. That's so good. Give me your cock. I love your cock. It's so hard. My pussy's so wet. Fill me up. That feels amazing. Yeah. Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me! Oh, God... (and I'm not religious). Yes... Jesus, fuck! Ohhh!" Who is this person? Is everyone like this? Are there any tips for classy dirty talk that doesn't sound like an X-rated Radio 4 play?

Anyway, if we can return to the scene, and I'm sorry if I've ruined it for you. I'm lying on my belly, having my lovely, sensitive, sopping wet cunt fucked. Virgil, who regularly claims to have quite mediocre "anti"climaxes, has a loud, shuddering, exclaiming orgasm, and then we cuddle up, kiss and look into each other's eyes... and fall blissfully asleep until midday, which is almost unheard of for us.

Best lie in of the year so far, I'd say.
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