Right in the middle of a particularly pleasant part of the love-making procedure, Mr. Big had to stop and ask if I was all-right. Did I look particularly constipated? For some reason I wasn’t paying quite so much attention as to how I looked as I normally do. Rather strange indeed. And I was quite rude, I expect, in return.
“Ugh, of course I’m fine. Why would I not be fine? And you stopped (fucking me) you idiot!”
Oh I felt rather nasty after that of course. Apologized promptly. He laughed about it and kissed me and told me I was nuts, and that it couldn’t be helped.
We sat around naked on the couch for a long time after that, talking about de-virginizations. I reiterated my very boring, terribly practical, First. Which went along the lines of: one day I woke up and felt like my virginity wanted to loose itself, so it made me pick up the telephone and call a friend. It has been lost since, being quite fervent in refusing to be found, and that’s all there is to it. Very engaging isn’t it, simplicity has it’s unique appeals.
His was a little less boring but no less trite. Think hotel room, flowers, chocolate, valentine’s day. Terribly boring. I hate having sex in hotel rooms unless I’m on holiday. In fact, I absolutely abhor the idea of booking a hotel room to have sex in, it makes me feel cheapened, terribly so too.
I couldn’t stop playing with his dick on the couch. I find it quite fascinating. That is to say, I find most dicks fascinating, not just his; and I’m pretty damn sure I can play match the dick to the identity and score 100% on it for every penis that I’ve seen in my life. (Which can mean two things, either I have a fantabulistic memory, or, I really haven’t slept with as many men as I would seem to have.)
There’s something about the way they are colored, and how the veins run; the texture of the skin on the head and the bend and curve of the tool. But what’s most fascinating it how they grow when you keep on shaking them about. I don’t know how annoying most guys find that, but I got a sharp slap on my hand last night.
I was a little taken aback, but he said it unnerved him to have me observe his dick the way I was –so it wasn’t the shaking. Well, I don’t really know, perhaps a combination of both was too much- I look at him and go ‘Oh Reaaaaly?’ And he starts taking my legs apart, putting one on the back rest of the couch and the other onto his lap and returned the favour.
But I’m such a moral person and believe in the phrase that says something about doing what you want done onto yourself on others. (Is it not the same thing?), so I can safely say I quite enjoyed it. My only wish was for there to had been a pocket mirror somewhere, so I could see what the heck he was describing.
But at any rate, I am quite convinced that the genetalia of a person is the feature on the human body with the most character, after the face.
I had always presumed, as a child, or as an ignorant, undiscerning teen, that aside from the face, bodies didn’t differ much from one another apart from size. The first time I saw another cunt, I was quite shocked that it looked nothing like mine. There were the basic features, of course, but so much about it was just so different. What can I say? Fascinating, absolutely fascinating.
xoxox
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