Fucking
How would you like a little fucking story today, friends? Well, that’s just what this blog post is, so you might want to click to the next one if that’s not what you’re looking for…
Fucking
I woke up this morning with his hand stroking my stomach, my eyes still blinking awake as he slipped his fingers between my thighs.
“Good morning,” he whispered in my ear, lapping circles around my clit with one fingertip. “I’ll put the kettle on after I’ve made you come.”
And that’s just what he did, setting the fucking tone (literally) for pretty much the rest of the day. It was one of the best mornings I’ve had in a long time, especially considering how damn early it was. He’s an early riser. I’m not. I can see this being a recipe for disaster, but if he wakes me up with orgasms, I’m sure I can overlook the time…
Right?
We drank tea in bed, silently, the news quietly playing in the background. Then, we went shopping, holding hands and laughing in that way that couples do. We shopped for gifts for his kids, my family, and (not-so-secretly) each other. The Christmas decorations all over the town made things seem so much more romantic than they were, and it put us both in such a good mood.
“We should pop in here,” he said, nodding his head towards the adult store.
“Oh, yeah?” I laughed.
He’s such a playful man, especially in the bedroom, and I absolutely love that about him. I briefly considered shoving a handful of toys in my weekend bag before I left, but I wasn’t feeling that brave. One step at a time, right? We’re both still testing the sexual waters, figuring out what the other likes and whether or not we’re compatible with it.
He picked up a small vibrating bullet toy first. Pink, of course; for his benefit or mine, though? A couple of sensation-inducing lubricants came next, along with some edible body paint that would no doubt stain the sheets. I picked up a pair of handcuffs after that, but he shook his head.
“I’ve got plenty of things to tie you up with,” he smirked.
He had a look in his eye that intrigued me to no end, and my whole body shuddered as I thought of the endless possibilities.
Shopping done we headed back to his one-man room on camp. He cooked dinner, serving up wine that I didn’t even realise he’d bought, then we laughed the evening away. It was so easy, so breezy, so comfortable.
Food eaten and wine drank, it wasn’t long before he started to undress me again, slowly this time and with less urgency than the night before. He started by unbuttoning my shirt, releasing my bra, and then pulling the cups down to release my breasts.
“I want to use the new gels,” he said, rummaging around in the bags. “Can I?”
I nodded in response, so he tore open the plastic wrapper, then rummaged around in the bags once again. This time, he retrieved one of the painting kits that he’d bought for the kids.
“I can get a new one,” he smirked.
He pumped some of the gel onto the paintbrush, then brushed the bristles against my nipples. They sprang to attention, the gel tingling just as much as it said on the bottle.
“How that does that feel?” he asked, eyes wide.
Once again, I just nodded in response, shifting to get myself comfortable and let him play to his heart’s content.
He was more dominant than he’d been with me before, and it made me smile. He was letting his kinks out to play, slowly but surely, just like I was, keeping the kinkiest ones behind closed doors until we’re sure that the other person won’t think it’s weird.
He used my scarf to tie me to the headboard of his bed, then his scarf as a blindfold. They were still a little damp from the winter rain outside, but neither of us cared. I was at his mercy, naked and waited, and he was feeling brave enough to let his dirtiest sides come out to play.
I could feel his smile without seeing it, and I gasped a little as the cold tingling gel dripped onto my clit. Then, he got to work, licking and lapping as the gel lightly fizzed around my cunt. I couldn’t see what he was going to do next, so each tiny pause was filled with excited anticipation. It was so much fun; I could’ve stayed there for days enjoying him.
He made me come twice before fucking me, the blindfold and scarf-tie still firmly in place. I didn’t ask him to remove them, and he didn’t mention it, either. I think he felt braver and more emboldened because I couldn’t see him, and he fucked me as a result – really, really fucked me. Grunting and thrusting and trying to get as close as we can. I wrapped my legs around his waist, the only part of me that was free to move, then he let rip.
I. Was. Fucked.
Literally.
Afterwards, still inside me, he reached up and released me from the scarves. We collapsed there for a few minutes, catching our breath, and I saw his eyes dart over to the numbing lubricant that had rolled out of one of the bags. I wondered if he’d suggest fucking me in the ass next, but to my relief, he didn’t. I felt braver when we put the bottle in the basket that I did in bed.
Another day… perhaps.
This blog post comes next in the dating timeline: Farting (I Love You.)
Thank you so much for reading my little blog today! 🖤
You can read all about One Ball, from start to finish, right here.
If you’re in the market for something else to read, why not take a peek here:
![If you go down to the woods [link in my bio] today, you’re sure of a big surprise [some filthy bedtime reading.]
Probably not for the weak, this one.
- from the archives.
I hope you’ve had a fabulous weekend, folks 🖤](https://i0.wp.com/notsosexinthecity.com/wp-content/plugins/instagram-feed/img/placeholder.png?w=640&ssl=1)
