copyright 2020, held by author

Some erotic writing, graphic and explicit. A work sort of in progress, maybe.

Please do not read if you are under 18. 

Hand Job

After breakfast she jerked me off. Out of all the hand jobs I’ve had, why does this one resonate?

We were on the couch and started making out, we hadn’t seen each other in a while, we loved each other. There was a lot of commotion outside of the house, construction just next door, workers traipsing through the yard, a noisy morning. The shades were open, the sun pouring forth.

We were kissing. She was in her cotton nightgown, I was in gym shorts. We needed to shower and dress and do something together but for now, it was  just lovely love, what to do for a long awaited day together. A chat without substance other than the delight of each other’s company.  An interlude of affection, expressing happiness of finally being together. . I arrived the night before, we had made love, but now, the kissing and caressing. gradually became foreplay or so it seemed. My hands were all over her too, I kissed her neck and shoulders, eased away the cloth to lick her nipple.

She stroked me, kissed it and sucked it but it wasn’t a serious blow job, just an augmentation of embrace. She made me hard,  then only teased me with her mouth, but never let go her grip.

Lite fun, laugher, slowly easing closer until I said, do you want to go into the bedroom when it was apparent I was at the point of no return. She  just smiled, her grasp now more determine. She pumped fast, really fast. My breath shortened. She finished me off,  watching the spurts,  me watching her smile, that knowing smile – she knowing I was in her thrall, she confident in her ability to please, to turn her affection into action.  Was it the evolution of surprise, her sudden whim to make me come? I think about it often, this moment of love and yes of lust, but the sexual was secondary it seemed. We could have fucked, got into it deeper. We had the time, we shared anticipation.

No, not now, not this moment. She needed to make me come, watch me come. She need to touch and see what she’d been hearing while waiting  all these weeks apart. No greater joy than making me helpless with her hand.

Second Session

The lust would build, the growing but manageable kinkiness, only slightly off center. The need to fuck, the need to please, we verbalized our lust until we were together, when we could prove our love, make real our sworn devotion to each other’s flesh and pleasure.

Talking on the phone before each visit, I’d hear the hum of the vibrator… what are you doing I would ask, and she stammered, moaning softly.  Such an orgasmic woman. I started talking dirty talk. Tap my erection against the receiver. I want to hear you come, please come me, let me listen to you jerk off.

This happened multiple days a week. Funny how sex,  a sustainable sexual relationship, is based on nostalgia. Remember what we did when we were together. I love your cock. I haven’t washed the sheets, I love your smell.

I told her next time I’m going to fuck her with her vibrator, then fuck her with my cock, but she’s going to suck it out. So trite, so cliché. That’s love though, that’s making love, it’s cliché but when it’s your cliché it’s original because it’s yours and that the center of if not the actual universe, your sense of your own mortality. The only weapon we have against death is the orgasm.

Nothing is as personal as intimacy, but everybody’s intimacy is the same, similar enough… all bodies and biology enact the same scenes breathing to digestion, why should sex be any different?

When I first arrived, we have reunion sex, get it out of the way, the triumphant fuck, so we could lay naked together and merely bask.

I told her that the second session, which was more extended, she would suck me off. I would give her a massage and make her come, but she needed to finish me with her mouth. I said she must promise. I want to she said, I want anything you want.

Then we talked about other things and never mentioned it again after the call, even after I arrived. Then that afternoon session came. I got out her vibrator and the mineral oil,  I gave her a long massage, I’m pretty good, read a few books, deep tissue to caresses. She loved my massages, kneading her back and rubbing her feet, soft karate chops up and down her spine and across her shoulder blades. She drank wine and turned over and I did her front, flexing and stretching her arms and legs.

When fully lulled, I finally touched her pussy. She was dripping. She orgasmed  immediately when I sucked her clit. The cunnilingus  lasted a long while, I loved her taste, loved making her come with my mouth.  Then I brought her to another orgasm with her vibrator, masturbating her with an unhurried relentless.

Sweat slickened her skin.  I teased her, do you want my cock, she was grabbing me and saying please, please, her sultry whispers turning into groans… then shouts… put your dick inside me, please, please… I love your cock.

I  held her by the waist, slowly entered. She began to pant, thrusting her pelvis towards me to get more of my cock into her very wet cunt. I sped up my long strides, she shivered wildly, rolling her eyes, drooling with each thrust.  I brought her back to the brink the over the brink, two three times

Do you remember what we talked about out, on the phone… oh yes, yes… she was in a thoroughly physical swoon, having orgasmed many times… I was close, closer… I panted… now and suddenly stopped and stood up… she knew, she remembered, she moved her back against the wall and sucked me. It was one of the most intense orgasms of my life, her bringing me to climax with just her mouth, truly fucking me with her mouth,  drinking down rope after rope,  gagging as she drained me.

I practically collapsed back to the bed and we listened to our breathing steady as we remembered we were living, physical bodies and not just pure pleasure and the essence of desire.

Pure Fuck

I had dozed off on the couch, she was in the bedroom asleep when I woke sometime after 3 am.  I had a hard-on, which is not unusual but we had sex  earlier in the day and I do remember I was thinking about it and that contributed to the state of my cock. The plastic bottle of the Johnson & Johnson on the end table was an instant reminder. The earlier session was intensely active and seemed likely to deplete my energy, but remembering  that activity actually accentuated my desire. It was all I could think about, the memory of our previous lovemaking and what to do with the erection now before me.

We were having fun with baby oil, for massage and lubrication. We had spread a blanket on the rug where we spent much of afternoon making each other come. Ice cubes in orifices were also involved. We had to shower after.  She was so generous giving me pleasure, she loved sucking cock.

Now I just wanted to give it to her, pure and animalistic.  No extended foreplay, no rubbing feet or sore backs, long kisses or private jokes. I didn’t want to jerk off or wait for it to go away. Why waste this splendid erection? I wanted to fuck her. I stroked on some baby oil and went into the bedroom where she lay asleep.

I tugged the covers off her and gently spread her legs and slid my cock easily inside. I stayed there, hard and throbbing, feeling her increasingly damp warmth. Still asleep, but now aroused.  I imagined her dream now suddenly erotic, I imagined those dreams were of my cock. I slowly pulled out until only the tip was inside her then gently shoved back in. I repeated the long and slow action, almost out then slowly back in, pausing inside then back out again. Dreaming of my cock, feeling my cock inside her, having moments were the real and the dream felt the same.

Then she woke with a soft moan and grabbed the sides of my waist, pulling me closer, spreading her legs wider. She wanted it faster and harder but I knew she needed more of a buildup. Her knees bent, feet flat against the sheets, she arched her abdomen off the bed, she wanted it deep, needed as much cock as could fit. I put a pillow under her ass for a better angle  and thrust away. She grabbed her ankles, groaned out one orgasm after another, her pussy flowing and finally I came, pumping it into her. Animalistic pleasure at its best, like our ancestors felt coupling while still dwelling in caves.

My release erupted from so deep inside it felt other worldly then rushed through my whole body as if the center of the entire seen and unseen universe was my penis now shooting gob after gob of sperm into her. I was fucking faster now, pleasure – intense and unstoppable – draining from me. She was gasping, tears in her eyes. When we were composed and breathing normally, her voice soft and breathless… that was the best fuck I ever had, she said – of the weekend, of our relationship, of her life? – I didn’t interrogate, She had spoken her compliment  with a prayerful sob. I told her I loved her and we kissed and she rest her head on my chest. I could feel her tears on my skin as dawn absorbed the night.

Eternal Farewell

Leaving… she was leaving, tension, sadness, already feeling lonely, waiting together until we are alone again… time to kill, until we leave for the train station and the last glimpses… we were showered but still lazy… kissing and just being together, she’s fondling my slowly stiffening cock, a little reluctant given the fact we had spent the previous three days or so making love… she kisses it, licks it, just playful and then like a click, she sucks me with determination, caressing my testicles, forcing an erection.

We used to talk about blow jobs a lot, she loved to say how much she loved sucking cock. Yes, you’re the best, the best. We’d discuss crucial issues, such as – was it better for the mouth just to suck or should the mouth suck and fuck – should the head move back and forth while the cock is in her mouth or should she move her hand up and down as the mouth sucks the tip… the hedonism of intimacy, when you’re close like that, sexual discussions that are funny but erotic, always alert to arousal… I read something about blow jobs on the internet… our first time together was a blow job in a hotel… now though, her insistent coaxing succeeded and I was where she wanted me to be… she was too sore to fuck again or just wanted to say goodbye, she moved between my legs and vigorously tugged, her mouth inhaling with force as her grip rapidly pumped my shaft.

I’m muttering something, about getting close and I feel her mouth let go and my thighs being pushed up and her tongue circles my asshole… I’m tripping, as if my entire consciousness, not just awareness of the universe but the fact of my own mortality is suddenly absorbed into this rush concentrated on the multitude of nerve endings around the anus.

Then her finger is inside, gently tapping my prostate, her mouth now on my cock again. Her lips and tongue feel the tremor. Pleasing me was as biological as the need to satiate hunger with food or quench thirst with moisture and at this moment that instinct was the only thing in the world.  I said I was going to come, her sucking intensified and as the first spurt emerged she sucked harder, surprising herself how deeply she inhaled, her finger pressing against my prostate. I was overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure,  which never felt as comprehensive.

We had a great weekend, it was a nice visit. We had NYC adventures, ate Vietnamese food, made romantic love. Now it was goodbye, she wanted to say goodbye. The memories of our time together filled both our reveries and we both knew that, that we would be thinking not just of each other at the same time, but of the same moments, moments ours alone. She wanted to be certain this moment too, this orgasm she was giving me – so filled with desire for me, she willingly thought only of my pleasure, my selfish need — was nothing less than an act of worship.  Her love was worship of my cock; she wanted me to know that. She made me hard then made me come. Sucking me off like this, swallowing my come so she could think about that tactile taste, viscosity, sensation  on the train home knowing I would be feeling the sense memory throughout my loins at that some moment as the distance between us grew.

But I was the one surrendering, wasn’t I? No other better way to give yourself than to focus on his pleasure, but the focus and the pleasure it induced was in her power, by her grace, a gift of love.

God is a slave to believers; without the enthralled worshipper any statue’s just carved stone. Eating out my asshole, sucking out my come, this purely physical display of affection – she had the power – I was flaccid when she touched me, she brought me to the point where the erection needed to be addressed. She made me helpless to my own pleasure and when that pleasure peaked it seemed that time could vanish and there was no farewell, no tomorrow or responsibility.

That’s what our bodies were remembering, she on the train, me in my empty apartment… her power, my helplessness, and the way orgasms can only be considered a taste of eternity… we both are alone, the geographical distance between us growing again, we think about what our bodies let us know for as long as we can,