I have a confession to make.
I am a sex blogger who doesn’t like to be fucked all that often.
Yes, yes, I know. Blink a few times, shake your head to clear it, let’s move on now shall we?
The thing is… one of the things that gets my rocks off the most is anticipation. Letting the desire and frustration build to a nigh unbearable point and then jumping recklessly off the cliff into the wonderfully turbulent sea below. I love to let days or even weeks of hot dreams, dirty texts, teasing and allllmost-but-not-quite-getting-there build up to the boiling point before satisfaction is finally achieved.
What’s really great about all this is that M and I seem to be settling into… well not so much a routine, really, but a style that works for us. See, M has come to the conclusion that penetration really does not work for him – which, uh, makes sense given the circumstances. And that works for me because I love to give him clit orgasms. I get more of a reaction out of him by playing with his clit – the sounds he makes, the looks he gets on his face… all better when I jack him off than when I fuck him.
Also wonderful is that when I’m not in a receiving mood, I can push him back and get him off – which, oh hey by the way, is one of those things that builds me up to my boiling point! In addition, when he is satisfied (which it seems he needs more often than I do), he is less likely to want to pin me down and fuck me, which… oh hey by the way, gives me more time to build up to my boiling point! So basically, we’re both really finding what works for us in terms of giving the other what he/she wants. And, well… the other night, this whole grand theory was proven in a big way.
I’d reached my boiling point.
It had been building probably for a good two weeks at least. My dreams weren’t helping, nor was each and every time I got M off – I mean really, you can’t imagine how hot that is. Nor was the evening I spent with J. Nor was the evening M and I spent at our friend’s birthday party – the night I got tied up. It all built. And built. And built.
Finally, the morning after the party, it boiled over, and I got some of the best sex ever. It was long lasting, it was rough, it was multi-orgasmic, and I was as limp as an overcooked noodle afterward, except for the muscles of my face stretching into one very satisfied smile. Hell, even M was out of breath.
There is one very interesting phenomena that occurs when I am well and truly horny – like boiling point horny. Usually my nipples are very sensitive. Well, it would be better to say they are usually extremely sensitive, to the point where they are generally untouchable. But when I get that horny, they desensitize and a person could do just about whatever they wanted to do with them. They go from untouchable to practically begging to be pinched, bitten, pulled, twisted… you name it.
Yes, I was that horny.
But I think M took care of that, and took care of it very well.