He was there exactly when I needed him to be.  Funny, engaging, charming, with eyes that suggested that and more and a laugh like warm cocoa going down.  Yuuummy!

It had been awhile since I was with anyone so easy to be with, someone who didn’t make me feel a trace of self-consciousness.  He invited conversation naturally, and my mind raced to all the other “natural” things we could be doing.

We laughed and chatted, eating up each other’s company like potato chips, never getting our fill.  Our first times together were mad make-out sessions, feeling each other up over and underneath our clothes.  Nothing that could be described as “sex” sex, but pretty damn nice, nonetheless.

“I think you know I like you,” I whispered teasingly.  “I want to take this to the next level.”

“With your tongue halfway down my ear canal, I should think so!” he teased back.

“No, but seriously, I want to be with you … that way.  There are a couple of precautions I want to get out in the open, though.”  As difficult as it was at first, we discussed my long-term contraception and how I wanted to use condoms.  We even looked online over types (latex, of course) and sizes (they fit, that’s all you need to know) and agreed our first forays into doing the dirty would be patient and attentive.

I ran my hands over the top of his head, his neck, his ears, slowly stroked his collarbone and shoulder blades.  He caressed my triceps and elbows, playing in the hollows between my biceps and forearms.

It felt absolutely amazing when he massaged my hips.  We stood up in unison from sitting, his hands still on my hips.  As we maneuvered through my apartment to my comfortable couch, my ass accidentally slapped up against the wall with an audible “Pop!”  Delicious electricity shot through my entire body, making me tingle all over.

Ooo-kay, I thought.  That was certainly something new.

In later sessions, I pushed his hands down from my waist to my hips.  “Grab tightly,” I moaned.  It just felt so good, so right, having him hold me firm and tight.

I got bolder.  I took his hands and placed them directly on my ass.  We kissed deeply.  He traced light little circles on my haunches, but that’s not what I really wanted.  I pushed his palms flat on the undersides and back of my ass.  “Baby, squeeze it,” I begged him.  When he did, I felt like I would float away, right up into the sky.

Not having achieved “lift off” together and still horny as all get-out, I touched myself when alone and fantasized about our make-out sessions.  I’d flip over on my stomach and reach underneath to stroke my clit with my vibrator.  I’d give my ass a few satisfying pops and slaps with the flat of my hand while setting the vibrator on a higher speed.  That usually left me with shaking legs, trying to catch my breath.

During our very next make-out session, I went for broke.  He put his hands on my hips exactly the way I like it.  We kissed deeply as part of our newly established routine and I moved his hands to my ass.  He squeezed slowly and surely, alternating between caresses and squeezes.  I forgot myself and slapped my own ass.  He seemed not to notice.  I took his arms by the wrists, pushed his hands out away from my body, and brought them quickly back to my butt with an unsatisfying thud.

He stopped what he was doing and looked into my eyes.  “Do you want me to spank you?” he asked.  Even though I was showing him exactly that, some weird shyness kept me from saying it out loud.  All I could do was bow my head, bite my lip, smile and nod.

He sat down in a sturdy chair and directed me to lie across his lap, ass up.  He played with my skirt, pushing it up to expose my panties, then pulling it down tautly to see my cheeks press out against the fabric.  Pushing it up, pulling it down.  Pushing it up, pulling it down.  This went on and on until I thought I’d faint from anticipation.

“What do you want me to do next?” he taunted.

“Whatever the fuck you want,” I begged, yet again.

He delicately unzipped my skirt and casually dropped it to the floor.  He peeled off my panties, now completely soaked.  I wriggled my legs loose from the damp fabric, tangled as they were around my knees.  I was now bottomless … but not topless.  He titled my head up for wet, nibbling kisses I hungrily tasted.  “You are so beautiful,” he cooed.  I trembled.

“Do you have a vibrator?” he asked.  I got up, dashed to my nightstand, and skipped back with Old Faithful.  He set the speed to medium, placed it on his lap, and had me drape myself over his lap with my clit squarely on the vibrating head.

Back to caressing my ass: slowly, firmly, in circles, squeezing one cheek, then another.  The vibrator was doing wonders on my girl.  His hand explored my thighs, squeezing and stroking them as the vibrator hummed away.

A sharp, stinging smack landed solidly on my bottom and I delightfully squirmed, almost off his lap.  He caught me and brought me back in position.  All I could manage to voice was “Oh! Umm … Aaah … That’s so … Umph.”  Between the smacks, caresses, slaps, squeezes, spanks, and the trusty clit pressure from my vibrator, I came over and over again: some orgasms wet, others felt deeply in my cunt, others sparking shallowly through my clit.

Then he pinched my ass.  A rapid, unpleasant pain shot straight up my spine and out of my mouth.  I croaked out a confused and angry “OWWWWW!”

He stopped immediately.  I turned and saw his apologetic and worried expression.  “I’m sorry,” he offered.  “That’s okay,” I replied.  “You couldn’t have known.  I did say do anything.  I guess I found out one of my limits.”

Having reestablished trust, I asked him to fuck me.  “Let’s fuck,” I said.  (What did you expect, poetry?)

We rushed to my bedroom, retrieved the Astroglide, and made sure the inside and outside of the condom were well lubricated.  He slipped it on.  I hurriedly scooted onto my bed and got on my back so he could enter me in missionary.  The first tantalizing hesitation was followed by a definite, splooshy plunge.  “Ahhhhhh,” he moaned and I pulled him into me by the hips.  I nibbled his earlobes and traced his chest lightly with my fingertips.  He stroked in and out of me: slowing down, speeding up, going in circles, doing something like a figure eight, and … what was that you just did?  Oh, yessss.  Yes!

Then I got really naughty.  I gave him a perverted grin and looked him in the eyes.  “I kind of want to spank you while you fuck me,” I offered.

“Okay,” he chirped, matching my gaze with equal perversion and happiness.

He got back to business, angling left and right, going deep then shallow, taking his cock out of my cunt and rubbing the lips and clit with the head, then pushing back into me.  I drew my right hand back and smacked his fanny sharply.  (His bum, his bottom, his arse, Brits.  The American fanny, not yours.)

He closed his eyes and increased his pace.  I loved looking at his face, watching him build up to ecstasy.  I grabbed those delicious hips and cute little ass and alternated my slaps: first his left butt cheek, then his right one, then smacking both on his down stroke.

Somehow we ended up off the bed and on our feet.  He smacked my ass and I smacked his back in response.  Pumping away, grabbing each other, whispering thoroughly dirty suggestions in each others’ ears, we were lost in our mutually induced lust.

“Wobble!” I yelled.  He shot me a confused glance.  My legs collapsed out from under me.  He quickly caught me and held me up off the floor.  He entered me over and over and I held on, seemingly weightless in his embrace.  I buried my face in his shoulder and felt his cock twitch repeatedly inside of me.

Slowly, gaspingly, tremblingly, he lowered me to the floor and we cuddled, thoroughly spent.

Eventually, I came back to earth and my senses.  He did the same shortly after I recovered.

He smiled his teasing, tantalizing smile and asked, “Wobble?”

“Wobble,” I chuckled back and we laughed together for the longest time.