A Place To Draw Blood Laughing

Once upon a time I had a tryst, a fling, a brief rest-stop of innuendo, oral sex and cheap Chinese food with a friend of mine. I have had a generous handful of these, friendships that stray into sex for a night or a month and then fade, quietly, back into friendship.

What I remember from that night, the strongest image beside all the others of blond hair and bruised skin, is that he came up for air from kissing my neck, he ran my hands down my stomach, and he ripped my underwear off. He shredded them like so much green lace paper, threw them to the floor and plunged his head between my legs with the motions of a desperate man. I remember that was the sexiest anyone had ever made me feel, the first time someone had wanted me with such searing completeness.

Last week May was lounging on our bed as only he can lounge, all sprawled out with awkward grace like an overgrown albino kitten. I itched for him in a way that was oddly unfamiliar, a sexual need not quite asking for sex, a dominant need not quite reaching to sadism. I turned this itch over in my head, thinking What is this want that I have, and where do I know it from? Then he turned over on his side and raised his hips in the air at me, playfully. Then I got it. Oh, right. That’s the strap-on itch.

I pulled our tan leather harness on, I fitted the dildo in the ring curve pointing downward, and I grabbed May by the ass to drag him to the corner of the bed. I had him kneel away from me, I spread the dildo with sticky jelly and wiped my fingers on his skin. Then I fucked him.

I fucked him long enough and hard enough that the bones in his legs wobbled and melted out from under him, sinking him first to his chest and then to his stomach, pinned down by my hand on the bed. He keened, screamed, pounded his fists into the pillows and his hips into the mattress. I fucked him until his ankles hung in the air behind me and he stayed on the bed only because of my weight supporting him, and then I fucked him right down to the floor.

I too the harness off and left him there, with his head pressed against the foot of the bed frame. He was moaning with every breath, softly. I climbed onto the bed, spread my legs apart on either side of his face, and began to masturbate, running my finger in hard circles around my clit, scooping up moisture from my lips and spreading it around my skin. From the floor, he watched. His eyes just peeped over the edge of the bed, achingly huge. When aroused so severely May’s eyes grow to anime-worthy proportions.

I watched him watch me, I saw him lick his lips, and just as I had time to wonder if he would stay there, on the floor, he jumped on me. He pounced, he practically clawed his way up across the bedspread in his rush to my cunt, his mouth suddenly everywhere, his moans muffled in my flesh. I gasped, I watched him bury himself in deeper, I threw back my head and laughed.

Eventually I drew him up into the air and pressed his head into my shoulder. I held him tightly, letting the tremors of his lust drive me farther into orgasm. Afterwards he still moaned quietly, his cock painfully hard against my thigh, and I folded his limbs into a tight ball and pressed him to me. My boy, I feel sexier every day that I’m with you.