Do you ever get shag flashbacks? I do. I can be going about my day, doing something completely boring and mundane, and all of a sudden – BOOM – completely out of nowhere, I’ll have a shag flashback to some naughty little moment that Jock and I shared a few days before.
*I want to take credit for the term ‘shag flashback’ but I’m pretty sure Bridget Jones said it first.
Today, it happened when I was talking to a friend on my way home from work. We’d bumped into each other, started talking about her dog, she mentioned the word ‘hump’ and my mind was instantly taken back to when I straddled Jock on his couch and dry-humped him, both of us fully-clothed, until I was so wet and so turned on that it took him less than 60 seconds to finish me off with his tongue.
It happened again when I said ‘hi’ to the woman serving me as I bought my groceries, but this time, my mind was transported to the moment Jock whispered, “Sit on my cock, facing away from me, and let me admire your arse, please,” into my ear from behind as he yanked my head back by my hair and nibbled on my earlobe.
And then again, when Bestie asked me what I wanted for dinner, I blushed from head to toe as I couldn’t get the image of Jock standing in front of me, cock in hand and ready to explode into my open and waiting mouth, out of my mind.
I’ve had a lot of sex over the last few days, peeps … and now I can’t stop fucking thinking about it all.
Jock’s reaction to me, and what my body does, turns me on immensely. Intensely. It’s the way he looks at me, with his eyes slightly squinted and his head cocked to one side. And the way he groans with that caramel-smooth accent of his. And the way his hands are eager to ramble and roam around me. The lust he has for me is unmistakable. Or, at least, it feels unmistakeable. It’s certainly undeniable. You can see it written across his face every time he knows that we’re about to get down n’ dirty.
It — all of it — turns me on in ways I cannot describe.
When he told me he wanted me to ride him cowgirl-style, I knew I was going to give him what he wanted before he’d even completed the request, but I also knew that I was going to make him work for it. He’d made me work and wait for my orgasm before, so it was time for me to torture and tease him in exactly the same fashion.
First, I rode him, facing him, waiting for his body to start revealing itself to me; those little signs and tells that he’s getting close to coming. When I could feel his grasp getting tighter and heavier on the flesh of my hips, I knew it was almost time, but I kept on going, riding and grinding as I straddled him on the bed, right up until I thought he was going to explode … and then I stopped.
“Whaaa…. ?” he asked, a look emblazoned across his face that was a complicated mix of anger, enjoyment, frustration, and utter desperation.
Without saying a word, I dropped to my knees in front of him, taking his cock in my mouth and circling my tongue around the top. He didn’t say a word either, tipping his head back almost as though he wanted to stop me from seeing the smile of enjoyment across his face. I’d seen it. Of course I’d seen it. I didn’t pay any attention to it, though. I just toyed with him, teased him, bobbing my head up and down on him faster, then slower, then faster again. It was my intention to bring him to the edge as many times as I could with my mouth before he begged me to let him come, but my excitement got the better of me. With every minute that passed, I got wetter and hotter, almost as desperate as he was to feel his cock inside of me again. I don’t know if I could’ve made him beg for me to let him finish because I gave up before I got that far, releasing him from my mouth to stand up and turn around.
“Oh fuck yessss,” he breathed as I steadied myself with my hands on his legs and slowly lowered myself down on to him.
“How’s the view?” I asked, turning around to face him as I slowly started bouncing my ass up and down on his cock.
He didn’t get the chance to answer. Instead, he exploded inside of me, much quicker than I’d anticipated, in truly spectacular fashion. Toes were curled, hands were grasping at my ass and hips with such force that he left little bruises behind, and the noises that escaped from his mouth sounded as though they were from wild animals.
Ten minutes later, he finger-fucked me to orgasm to say thank you.
So, just a thought here … maybe the key to great sex is NOT saying ‘I love you’?