The Sexual Olympics
I have an irresistible urge to bring her to the height of ecstasy. I see her naked body asleep next to me and I wish to penetrate her dreams, quicken her heart, whet her appetite for the day. Remarkably, she is open to my overtures. Almost without gaining consciousness, she squirts, she cums, she dozes back to sleep. I get up and have my cup of coffee feeling satisfied by her orgasm. A transference of pleasure? Is that possible?
Perhaps she didn’t even remember it. Perhaps it was like a dream for her. Perhaps she remembered it with great vividness and it remained etched in the erotic estuaries of her imagination all day. Whatever the explanation, she came home ravenous. When we got to bed, she got on all fours and begged, pleaded with me to mount her, “Like a doggy, Daddy” — fitting two taboos into one request.
I got behind her. She came. It was too easy — for both of us.
She turned on her phone. She fumbled for a specific prompt. It was a spread of pics from Don — her front-runner in her Craigslist quest for more cock. “You see that, Daddio?” she said, looking at me over her shoulder, “he jacks it to my pics.”
She came again. She couldn’t prevent herself from gushing. There was no crescendo, no build-up, no tension and release. It was all release, all full-throttle, all the time.
“He says he loves watching a woman enjoy herself, pleasuring herself. Do you think he’d like watching me?”
I flipped her over onto her back. I spread her legs. Her right hand was already down on her clit as I slid in. She takes delight in masturbating while being fucked. I take delight in her. In her.
“I would love to see you put on a performance for us,” I said as I pictured her on her back, jillin’ it for our pleasure.
“Would you?”
“So much.”
She was constricting, contracting, crushing my cock with her puss as she simultaneously squirted — drenching everything from her ass to her knees. I pulled out and grabbed my cock, hoping to withstand the intense pleasure so I could go back for more, but I was not able. I had been in a state of tense restraint all day. I convulsed and the first shot exploded and fired up to her shoulders. A second report followed immediately and hit her neck. She wasn’t expecting it and she recoiled in shock and then she smiled and a giddy little giggle encouraged me to continue.
“Oh, Daddy,” she said with admiration.
“Damnit!” I cursed.
“What?”
“That was so quick after so much anticipation.”
“But it was so good.”
“Lo, it’s 9:17.”
“So?”
“We started at 9:09. I looked at the clock.”
“So what?”
“That’s not even ten minutes!”
She laughed the laugh of a conqueror. “It’s hot.”
“Hot?”
“Yeah.”
“What is hot about that?”
“I don’t know. I just like making you lose control.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
“You’re the one who came once every three minutes.”
“Yeah, but I can keep on going. I could go all night. That’s not losing control for me. That’s getting warmed up.”
“Well, I hope this Don guy has it in him to wear you out. You deserve it,” I said, intentionally sounding cruel.
“I haven’t met a man yet who could do that,” she said, proudly.
“Well, when you do, I want to be there to see you plead for mercy.”
“Plead for mercy? Ha! I’ll be praising his prowess. I’ll give him a trophy.”
“A trophy?” I said mockingly.
“Yeah — maybe we can get three guys to do me and then I can award gold, silver, and bronze.”
“You sure do have odd notions.”
“We’ll call it ‘The Sexual Olympics.’”
[From the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]
