‘Cause I heard that you got you a lover,
And lovers you’ve got one or two.
But you can’t tell one from the other,
Now Mama, now you’re nothing to you
- Two Gallants
We’re in a hotel room. We’re always in a hotel room. (Except for that one time I violated the sanctity of my home in the guest room, but I was crazy, it was a one time thing, I swear.) Anyway. Hotel. Motel. Cheap but clean, grey-green stain-hiding carpet, blue bedspreads patterned with faux Wedgewood. On the edge of a failing city, now a grimy town – it’s hard to avoid them in the Midwest. Lover’s inside me, cowgirl. Yeah, yeah, cutting to the chase, but we’d be here all day if I rambled through the nuances of his hand at the nape of my hair, pulling my head back, his other hand on my breast while I watch him standing behind my shoulder in the mirror, etc, etc.
So Lover’s inside me. It’s been stop and start, talking and fucking, talking and fucking. The phone rings. Mine. His is off, his is always off when we’re here. Mine is never off. I will usually ignore the old-fashioned ring if there is a cock actually inside me, but otherwise I always look to see if it’s Husband, and if it is I pick up. Primary partner first, and if boyo doesn’t like it, they can move to less-complicated pastures, at least my cow pats are right there in the open, no squelchy surprises later on.
It’s not Husband.
I pick up anyway. Shift my weight, press my clit on Lover’s pubic bone, he’s mildly surprised. “Hello…” lower register fully engaged during Monday morning sex. It’s Actor, we’ve been flirting for years at a low simmer. I don’t know if I’ll ever fuck him, but he’s got pretty eyes and smooth strong fingers and a willpower about his person that I admire even while I deplore his ability to commit wholeheartedly to his girlfriend or wholeheartedly move on.
“You always sound so sexy in the mornings.” I thank him. He asks if I’m busy.
“I’m not busy, no, I’d love to talk.” Lover, still beneath and inside, is trying to decide whether or not to be offended. I lift a little, then slide his cock back in more deeply. He’s that wonderful mostly-hard that means I can go forever without getting sore.
“In fact, I was thinking about you,” I tell Actor. “Thinking about your cock sliding into me.” I lift and settle again, rising up until the tip is nearly falling out of me, then pressing back down slowly, tensing in my kneeling thighs.
“I like that thought.” Actor has himself in his hand, I hear his breathing. “I like thinking about you bent over in front of me…”
“I want to be there in front of you, heels high enough so I’m just the right height, feel you slide into me…”
Actor makes a noise in his throat. I hand Lover a toy, red and white and shaped a bit like a woman with arms raised overhead but mostly like a penis. The bumps of her breasts are great. “I want to feel your cock in my ass, I’m putting a toy in my ass right now…”
Lover presses it into me, not enough lubricant which is the way I like it, the friction of dry silicone catching at my skin inside on the way in, that bit of drag telling me how deep, exactly where, and later reminding where it’s been.
“God, I want to fuck your ass, I want to thrust into you and fuck you hard…”
“Yes, please fuck me hard, take my ass…”
I’m pushing back onto the toy, then forward again, one way relief, one way pain and the pleasure of my clit sliding on Lover’s skin, the stubble where he trims emphasizing the best bits. Several of us are on the edge.
Actor comes, heaving. I come, shrieking. Lover observes, earnestly, his eyes on me through the last gasping breath, his practiced hand on the toy, silent and unheard.
(painting by Rodger Casier)
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Phone Sex
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12 comments:
Soooo Yummy!
Just what I needed to read. Thanks, as always Mandy.
Total sex bitch.
Splendid!
PeterB
You are baaaaad.
But then, you know that.
Holy fucking hell, Mandy. That was fabulous. You are fabulous. I so want to do that now. That seems to be my reaction to half of your posts.
Ah yes. My two favorite things, opportunity and manipulation, combined with a dash of impulsiveness and a dirty mind.
Poor, lucky Lover.
Time for tea.
A. Reader, Esq.
Btw, great taste in paintings.
A. Reader, Esq.
LFM, you're on to something. Lola David used to write about things and I'd say "damn, I'D like to do THAT!!"
Good sex writing makes the reader want to wank off or join in. I prefer the latter.
I've found a place to rent that panel truck, now I just need four studs who want a MILF giving them a blow job....
you are a naughty monkey! poor lucky lover indeed! *snort*
opportunity, manipulation, maybe. i think i will call it power though, and the thrill you derive from exerting it. naughty, naughty girl. love you! me
I always enjoy reading you... and for some reason I especially enjoyed it this time. I think it was the cow pats that got me, apart from the sheer hotness of the phone business.
I'm so glad you liked this post :) I've been working on fully remembering what happened for awhile!
I lucked out finding the painting - half the fun of blogging these days is typing a subject into Google images and seeing what comes up. I would have tried to buy it if it hadn't been sold, though!
The cow pats are one of my favorite parts, too :)
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
How did I miss this?
How do you do it?
La Fille - get over here NOW!
Oh, and I'm going to try the Google thing too ...
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