Sexy Storytime - Some Anal Fun

“Face down and ass up, my little slut,” he requests, and as the ever-compliant lover I strive to be (and because I love doggie-style anyhow), I obligingly assume that position in the middle of the bed.

“Move back a bit, baby,” he demands, his hands pulling back gently on my thighs. I shuffle somewhat awkwardly toward the edge of the bed, trying not to position either knee in the large wet puddle that I caused on the bed just a half-hour earlier.

He pushes my head down more thoroughly into the pillows then dips his long cock into me just once. He withdraws and settles it in the crack of my ass. His hands move off my hips; I want to turn and see what new devilry they are up to but I obediently keep my face in the pillows.

Lube. He pours it generously down the crack of my ass, then uses his finger to rub it inside me. A finger inside me makes me blush and squirmand I beg him to exchange finger for cock.
“Be patient, little girl” He continues for an almost embarrassingly long time, until finally I feel the head of his cock once again push against me.

Then comes a wondeful routine: He makes the first, gently stretching push into my asshole, to the point that his cockhead is nearly engulfed in me. He pauses then as I become absolutely silent in concentration. I breathe deeply and feel nothing but the all-consuming (and very slightly painful) sensation of opening up my body to his. It requires quiet and complete stillness, the sexual version of a Zen meditation exercise. I breathe out very slowly and think of nothing but opening my hole up.

He waits, not moving, not speaking, only lightly running his fingertips accross my skin.

When I’m ready I push back against him, glad for the lube he put inside me. I don’t understand why (and I prefer not to know), but each stroke in feels hot, so hot, and each stroke out feels cold. I think of asking him if he feels the same, but I cannot speak.

It’s a sensation completely unlike that of vaginal fucking. It feels hotter, dirtier, closer, more extreme. I soon beg him for the entire length of his penis; he gives it to me with a vengeance. And soon I’m screaming into the pillows.

If he moves just right (and oh this man can move, Gods can he move), he hits my g-spot with his cock from inside my ass, which just may be my favorite feeling ever. If he does this, and if I’m sufficiently hydrated, and if I have the wherewithal to push at just the right moment, I gush.

Fountains, rivers, torrents of hot fluid run down my legs, and if he has his hand in the right spot, he catches a few drops of the wonderful liquid on his fingers and offers them to my mouth.
I love that.

Right before he cums, he pushes me down on the bed and crawls between my knees. I think he wants to wear me at that point, as if we could unzip our skins like two sleeping bags and zip us up back into one. I speak a string of meaningless noises and rock my hips; he bites hard into my shoulder and I feel his hot sticky cum fill my ass before he collapses onto me.

Then we pray: ohGodohGodohGodohGodohGod.

He shifts slightly, concerned for my well-being below him. I beg him not to move, please don’t move.

We lie still for five minutes.

Eventually bodies move despite our best intentions. His cock works its way out of me, making me groan in dismay. I clean myself up in the bathroom. We meet back in bed, twist around each other again, and lie still for five more minutes.

But then my hand softly strokes down his belly and his hand slides between my legs, and we start something new all over again, something that once again leaves me screaming into the comforter or the sheets or the pillows.

And today I wonder why I have such trouble both speaking and walking today.