Sex happened last night.

Glorious, unbound and as delicious as an éclair, it was. I think I was never more relieved for it to happen like I was last night. Well, apart from the last time, when I thought I was going to die if I didn’t have sex soon. Well, thankfully, I am alive and alive is what I shall be. I’m not suggesting sex has kept me alive, but it has kept me from going a bit batty.


I don’t quite remember how it started. Flirting, I think. Kissing at my desk, fumbling. Him getting hard and me finding it funny that he was THAT hard.

Him getting undressed. God I love it when he’s naked.

He was hard. Wonderful and hard and lush and oh my God.

I sucked him. He tasted like the earth itself. I sucked him until he had enough.

“Do you want to have sex?”

Of course I do.

I always do.

We spread out a towel on the bed because it’s that time. But he doesn’t care.

He just slips inside me and fucks me, fucks me like.. like… like I’ve run out of ways to describe how hungrily he fucks me, how much his longing amplifies my longing and how much the slightest throb of his penis makes my vagina dizzy with glee.

I can’t count the hours we spent fucking. It could have been minutes. It could have been all eternity. But in the afterglow, I felt calm. At one with myself and at one with him.

He’s… well… perfect.



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  1. Oh I am at that point of needing it. His hours and a houseful all the time has made our play time undependable. I need more than a quickie. I need to be filled and consumed. This is exactly what I need.

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