It all started innocently enough.
Well, as innocently as sex could be.
Relationships can be like that.
We were snuggled up on the couch, buried underneath a mountain of blankets, the lights out. The TV was tuned into a hockey game (his choice, not mine.) Sports never really interested me, but I was informed it was a big game, so there we were.
I quickly grew bored. I leaned up against him with my head in his lap. My hand absentmindedly began to draw circles on his thigh with my finger. Max wasn’t my usual type. I liked the tall, muscular, man-of-action type. Max was only tall. He once showed me pictures of him in high school and we definitely would not have dated. He had chicken legs and was a total string bean in high school. Luckily, by the time I met him, he had filled out more.
And even once I met him, I didn’t think we’d make a good couple. He’s attractive, don’t get me wrong. I met him through a friend of a friend, and he seemed nice enough, but he was way too carefree for me. He was the complete opposite of the guys I dated before; he was goofy when I wanted good sense, lighthearted when I needed seriousness, go-with-the-flow when I needed careful planning.
The first time he asked me out, I was flattered, but declined. He asked me out again later on, and something in me buckled and I went out with him. He took me to an art exhibit that had just opened downtown, remembering that I once told him I love going to art shows. We talked all night, and while I could see a connection forming, I still couldn’t picture us together. I know “opposites attract” and all, but we just seemed too opposite.
I went out with him on a couple more dates, a part of me still attracted to him and wanting to see him. On our third date, I invited him back up to my apartment and we had sex.
Now, I don’t like to be in purely physical relationships. I’m just not really into stuff like friends with benefits or anything like that.
But god damn.
He was good.
That night, on our third date, we had the best sex I ever had. Part of it was because he paid attention to me and didn’t just stick his dick in me, finish, and then call it quits. Part of it was just the way he felt inside of me, I can’t really explain it. The other part of it was the dirty talk that just flowed out of him. I’d never really been with a guy who did that, besides the monotonous, “Do you like that?” and, “How’s that feel?”
It just felt so… so dirty, I guess. I always thought sex was something you did, not something you talked about. It felt wrong, taboo.
And oh so good.
Needless to say, it didn’t take long for us to have the relationship talk. Despite our differences, I just couldn’t let him walk away after what he did to me. And you know what? We made it work. We haven’t moved in together or anything. But I’m really happy with him and I like to think he’s really happy with me.
So yes, things were great, and the sex was even greater. I honestly can’t tell you how many times he’s come over for some “Netflix and chill” sessions.
But, unfortunately, some nights it was just Netflix.
Or hockey.
Like that night, the two of us on the couch, Max watching the game and me drawing circles. I was in the mood and I really didn’t want to be watching a bunch of sweaty dudes ice skating. I put a little more pressure on his thigh with my finger, but if he noticed, he didn’t show any sign of it. He just inhaled sharply and muttered something about a bad call.
I dragged my finger dangerously close to his crotch and brought it up to the waistband of his athletic shorts. I tugged a little on them, hoping that would be enough to send the message. I could see his cock starting to grow in his shorts.
He put a hand on top of my head and looked down at me.
“Right now?” he asked curtly.
I looked back up and, flashing the best innocent doe eyes I could muster, replied: “I just want some attention…”
He sighed and began to look for the remote in the mess of blankets, using the TV as his only source of light. Once he finally found it he muted the game and lifted me up so I was straddling him.
“What do you want, babe?” he asked. It was hard to see his face in the dark, so I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely annoyed or not.
“Sex!” I enthusiastically replied, a big grin on my face. My hands went up and down his chest and I leaned in to kiss him. I was hoping my insistence would prevail over his annoyance.
But he pulled back and chuckled. “No, I mean, what do you want?”
“… Sex,” I said plainly, giving him a duh kind of look.
“No, like, what do you want me to do to you?”
“I want you to take that,” I indicated toward his crotch, “and put it in me.”
I was starting to get a little annoyed myself. I knew what he was going to ask me to do. After all, our dirty talk had been really one-sided. I wanted to join in, but I always felt awkward or embarrassed, so I would just say “yeah” or “mhm” or groan whenever he asked me something.
“Babe,” he said, and I could see a smile starting to form on his face, “just tell me what you want me to do.”
By the time he finished, a big ol’ shit eating grin had appeared on his face.
“Come on, please, can’t we do this later?” I pleaded. I was horny and ready to go, I didn’t want to play games and kill the mood.
“Uh, uh. I won’t do anything until you tell me to,” he threw back.
I folded my arms and scowled at him. I knew he was enjoying this.
“Just say it, babe. Say ‘I want you to fuck me.’”
“I… ” I started to say, but I felt myself going red in the face at even the prospect of saying it.
“Look, we can start off easier if you want,” he said reassuringly, “we can start anywhere you want. Your wish is my command.” He was still flashing that big grin of his.
“I want you to… to suck here,” I stammered out, pointing at my nipple.
“Suck where? You gotta say it. Say it. Say, ‘I want you to suck my titties,’” he said.
“I want you to…to-suck-my-titties,” I quietly and hurriedly mumbled.
“You want me to suck on what?” Max leaned in, clearly enjoying every second of this.
“My tit… ” I said a little louder.
“Okay, I’ll let you have that one. We can work on it.”
In a flash, Max lifted my shirt off and threw it across the room. With my arms still raised over my head, he trailed his hands over my them, then my sides, admiring my body. It made me feel good, the way he looked at me. It was like this mix of lust and awe. Then he came in and started kneading my left nipple with his right hand. I looked up and groaned. It wasn’t much, but his touch was enough to give me shivers.
He then brought his mouth to my left nipple while his other hand worked on my other one. He sucked on and wagged his tongue over my tender and erect nipple.
I brought my arms down and giggled. I was excited, thinking that the worst was over and that it was all fun from here on out.
I was wrong.
After a minute or two, Max lifted his head with a loud, wet smack from my nipple. “What’s next?” he asked.
“Next?”
“Yeah, what do you want me to do next?”
“Seriously?” I asked, feeling the dread of having to talk dirty wash over me.
“Gwen, babe, you don’t have to be nervous,” he said soothingly. He cupped my chin with his thumb and forefinger and lifted my head up so that we were looking directly into each other’s eyes.
“You are so sexy to me. Your long, red hair, those perky tits, that ass, that tight pussy,” he went on, and I giggled. My eyes looked away from him, partly out of embarrassment, partly out of pride, and partly out of being coy. “And that beautiful face,” he finished.
I looked back into his eyes. God, his eyes were stunning. They were so blue, like the ocean.
“I want you to fu-” I started before cutting myself short and closing my eyes.
“Say it.
I wanted to. I really did. I was so ready. I wanted him, I wanted him to fuck me like an animal. I wanted him to fuck me so hard I would be sore. It was so easy to say in my head. It was easy because no one else could hear it. I couldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed by it. ‘Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me,’ I repeated over and over in my head.
“Fuck me,” I finally said, exhaling. Max gave me a questioning look, like he wasn’t sure if I said what I said.
“Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me,” I said, in time with the voice in my head. I opened my eyes and stared straight back into Max’s. “Fuck me. Hard.”
Max grinned from ear to ear. Suddenly, with a newfound source of energy, he swept me off his lap and onto the couch and stripped my shorts and underwear off. He pushed me downward, so that I was lying on the couch. He got on the couch, took his shirt off, spread my legs apart, and shifted his way between them. He pulled his shorts and boxers down enough to let his hard cock out.
It flailed for a moment, released from its prison and happy to be free. He crawled over me and kissed me passionately. While we were embracing, I moved my hands down to his penis and attempted to maneuver it inside me. He pulled away from me as soon as one of my hands made contact with his shaft. He smiled and was about to say something. Probably like “What’s next?” or “Tell me what you want me to do,” or something like that. I never found out.
Before he could utter a single syllable I wrapped my other hand around his neck, brought his face close to mine so that our foreheads were touching, and growled: “Stopping fucking around and fuck me already.”
“As you wish, my dear,” he said sweetly. And then he entered me. Slowly, teasingly at first.
“Shit, I didn’t realize you were so fucking wet,” he breathed in between tiny thrusts. It didn’t take long for me to have my first orgasm. I was so horny already, and the anticipation only made it worse.
He probed deeper inside of me easily. Inch by inch, he went deeper and deeper. He started to pick up speed once about half of his cock found its way inside my pussy. I began to whimper and moan, it felt so good.
“Fuck,” I squealed when he made a particularly hard and long thrust. Max just kept on going, that smile still on his face.
“Choke me,” I whispered.
That had managed to not only wipe the smile off his face, but he actually froze a second.
“What?” he said, staring at me unbelievably.
“Choke me,” I repeated, a little louder. He had indeed heard me correctly.
He wrapped his hand around my neck and gently squeezed. It immediately heightened all of my senses, and I started to feel the buildup in my groin, signaling another orgasm.
“Harder,” I managed to squeak out.
“Which?” he replied, not wanting to do the wrong thing.
“Both,” I howled.
And so he tightened his grip on my throat and started to fuck me harder. I could feel the base of his shaft push against me each time he thrust. I screamed out, the pressure in my loins having viscerally exploded.
“God damn, babe,” Max said, “I’d have done this sooner if I knew you were this crazy.”
In no time at all, I felt that familiar sensation again.
“Harder,” I repeated. My nails dug into his back, drawing blood. I didn’t even realize it at the time. Neither did Max. He just fucked and squeezed harder.
After I had finished again, Max released his hold on my throat and pulled out. He straightened up and got off the couch. I nearly cried, it was so sudden. He stood there and stroked his cock.
“Now it’s my turn,” he stated. “Turn around and flash me that ass of yours.”
I got up, turned and bent over, my hands resting on the top of the couch for support. I stuck my ass out at him and I could hear him sigh and say, “Fuckin’ A.”
He put one leg on the couch, in a Captain Morgan stance, and grabbed my hips. He was centimeters away from putting his cock in me again when I turned my head around said, “Uh, uh. You gotta say what you want to do. Say it.”
Yes, it was taking time away from our fuck, but it was time well spent. The look on his face was priceless. It was only there briefly before it was gone, replaced with a smile and a futile attempt to make it look like he was not caught off guard. I flashed him a big ol’ shit eating grin.
Relationships can be like that sometimes.
“First, I’m gonna take a good hold on you,” he said forcefully. He reached up with one hand and grabbed my hair. He pulled, forcing my neck to strain back. I was still smiling and giggling all the while.
“Then, I’m gonna smack that fuckable ass of yours,” he whispered through my hair into my ear. Then came the loud smack. I groaned at the sensation.
“Hell, I think I’ll do it again.”
SMACK.
“And again.”
SMACK.
He spanked me another five times before pausing.
I purred, feeling the heat in my ass cheeks. It stung, but it also felt amazing. It was no secret between us that I liked being spanked.
He released my hair and leaned back, getting a better view of his handiwork.
“Oooh, that’s a nice red,” he remarked. “You know what? Your ass really is fuckable…Maybe I’ll just… ”
With that, he teased the head of his cock against the entrance to my butt hole. It felt weird, new, foreign, but I had also heard about anal sex online. About how much it hurts. So, despite being horny as shit, I chose to save my virgin asshole.
“Wait, no, stop,” I stammered, pulling away from him. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for that… ” I trailed off as I turned to look at him.
Once again, that shit eating grin was on his face.
“Chickenshit,” was all he said.
“Fuck you,” I responded, giving him the finger as well.
“Fuck me? Wait, I thought I was fucking you? I’m confused.”
This. This is what I mean when I say he’s goofy when I need seriousness.
“Shut up and just fuck me,” I growled, turning back to face the couch and getting irked.
“Hey!” Max exclaimed, forcing me to turn back around. He wagged a finger at me. “Language.”
“Max! Shut up and fuck me or go back to jerking off into a Kleenex like you were bef- oh, fuck.” He had decided to go with the first option.
His hands were back at my hips and they were digging in so hard I almost noticed the pain over the sensation of him thrusting into me over and over. Almost.
Now he was fucking hard and fast. While I was feeling the tension building up in me yet again, I could also tell he was getting extremely close to his orgasm too. He gripped my hips even harder and was practically digging into me. His cock flew in and out, in and out, in and out. It was coated in my juices and filled me in a way nothing could ever compare to.
Suddenly, his pace lessened. I knew what was coming, no pun intended. He let out a long groan as he shot his cum inside of me, his nails breaking into my hips. He thrust erratically, following the rhythm of his orgasm. His thrusts and the sudden warmness that filled me made me orgasm as well. Both of us were wailing, releasing ourselves in that most primal of ways.
“Fucking fuck,” Max exclaimed once he had finished. He was breathing heavily, and had bent over my back, too weak to stand up straight.
“Language,” I teased back, also breathing heavily and nearly collapsing under the weight of him.
“Touché,” he replied while shifting over to sit on the couch. I curled up into his arms and we just sat there, breathing hard, too weak to do anything else.
Max spoke first after a long moment. “Sooo…choking, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, too tired to be embarrassed. “Choking.”
“Cool. Cool.”
Again, we sat there, exhaling and inhaling heavily. We could hear the sounds of cars honking and whizzing by outside. The TV showed the final score. 4-2. The Boston Somethings won. Max would be happy. He didn’t seem to care much about the game though, at that moment.
“Anal?” he said after the channel moved on from the game and onto some crappy sitcom.
“Hell no,” I replied.
“We’ll work on it.”
“No.”
Relationships can be like that.
