The Sex I Want

It’s been a minute since I’ve had sex, so when I had a thought for a story, naturally I wrote the sex scene the way I want to have sex. Here’s some of the story for you:

Neither Melissa nor I were very good at taking off our clothes in what one might call a sexy manner. Before long, she was standing naked in front of me, cheeks a little flushed. She was short, just barely over five feet tall, and she had large breasts and wide hips. Her ass was full and round, and her tummy was soft and curved. Her long brown hair was back in a simple ponytail, the streaks of red and pink mixed in. “Let me take care of you,” she said.

But I shook my head. “You first.”

Melissa never complained about that. She climbed onto the bed and flopped onto her back, legs apart. We could have made out some more, and I could have played with her breasts or bitten her nipples, both of which she’d have liked, but what she really wanted was for me to go down on her. She didn’t need preamble.

And I didn’t mind. Melissa was warm and smooth under my mouth, and she let out a low moan as I slipped my tongue inside her before drawing it up and over her clit. “Fuck.”

I smiled and took her clit into my mouth, sucking it and then flicking it with the tip of my tongue. Her thighs closed around my ears and I was immersed in her, my nose shoved up against her; I was already breathing hard and now it got more difficult — with her body curved the way it was, she smothered me a little when I used my mouth on her, though I would never complain. Melissa was vocal and demonstrative, and every noise she made seemed to get me harder and harder. I ground my cock against the bedspread as I reached around her thighs, pulling them tighter against me as I buried my face in her, licking and sucking, the noises loud and wet even though her thighs were muffling them. She smelled so good and tasted so good and I wanted more and more and she was only too willing to give it to me.

I heard her moans start to rise — she was loud, and I loved it — and I worked her over with my mouth until she groaned and clenched. I pushed my tongue as far into her as it would go and felt her fluttering around it. I couldn’t quite reach her g-spot with it, but I got close, and I fucked her with my tongue as she came.

Then I pulled to one side.

She got the message, rolling with me until she was on top, and then she sat up, putting her weight on my mouth. Her ass rested on my chest as she ground herself against my face, something I adored beyond all else, and she knew it. She wasn’t small — she was short, but she wasn’t skinny — and it had taken her some time to get comfortable being on top like this, but now she accepted that it was just part of the way things were, and she came again, riding my face, nearly suffocating me, before getting off and sliding down to lay against me. I reached over with my left arm and she linked the fingers of her right hand with my left one, her breath coming in gasps.

“Thank you,” I told her. “I needed that.”

“Uh-huh.” She looked down. “What else do you need?”

There’s no polite way to say it: I adore when my partner sits on my face. I love everything about it. That’s probably why I write it a lot.

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