S-EX

She was my ex-girlfriend, and she had arrived just as I was getting into that feverish zone of masturbating. I knew we were on a schedule here, so I loosely pulled my pants from off the floor and held it crotch-level. I scuttled over to the door not really concerned with buttoning my pants. It was Sunday morning, and I knew nobody would be up on my floor.

The way I cracked the door open just wide enough for her to slide in let her know something was up. Plus I never take long to answer the door, only when I’m in the middle of something. She poked her head in and gave me a look.

“you’ve got to be kidding me?” she said.
“I’m almost done.”
“how, why?”
“I came across some online porn and, well…y’know. Hey would you mind helping me out”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, making this a little more enjoyable...for me.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Come on, what’s the big deal. I’ve usually got my hand down my pants when we’re hanging out anyways. I mean, it’s not like you’re seeing anybody at the moment, right? Not serious, at least.”
“…”
“Just a tug, promise”
“Fine,” she said.

I eagerly hopped into the bedroom, dropped my pants, and sat on the bed. She moped in behind me, sat down beside me. I buried my face into her neck and hair.

I love the smell of girl.

She inched her hand toward my penis. I took her hand and plopped it on top of my member. My thighs and pelvis tensed at the touch of her cold hand and from the general pleasure of a woman fondling my bits.

I didn’t much feel like looking her in the eyes lest they betray any contempt or disgust she had for me at that moment. I just tried to obey the unspoken etiquette of noncommittal, impersonal sex: no kissing - at least nothing resembling passion – no talking, and no eye contact.

After a minute of guiding her hand to the proper rhythm, she got it right, and we were in cruise. I wriggled in her grip, trying to suppress the urge to grab and kiss her.

Instead I mashed my face alongside hers.

There was moisture and heavy-breathing and before long, some moaning. I had been so focused on my imminent completion that I hardly realized that I had been very still. But there was still rubbing being done. She was aggressively rubbing up against me now and all the while more involved in masturbating me.

I began to stand up, pressing against the force of her hand, in a reflexive attempt to increase the pressure. In our writhing, I lost my balance and fell partially on her. She could’ve pushed me off if she had wanted, but the casual brushing of our lips caused her to pull me onto her instead. Thick and humid, joined in deep, heavy-breath kisses, she maintained a hold on my penis. But with me on top of her, my full weight was exceeding the pressure that qualifies as pleasurable.

I heard a resigned “okay” escape her lips. I thought she had come to her senses and wanted to end our little session. What I had missed was the part where she said, “fuck me.” I couldn’t rearrange the words in my head to form a coherent sentence. She repeated it: “fuck me.”

I looked at her for a moment and said,

“but this was supposed to be about me getting off.
“yeah, was. Now come on.”
“but now I have to please you.”
“no, you just have to not cum inside me, come on.”

She had already taken off her shirt and was trying to take off her pants while I was still mounted on her. Pants around my ankles, I inserted myself into familiar ground.

She later told me that sometimes it wasn’t about her pleasure; it was about being a part of someone else’s. She told me how much she enjoyed watching me pullout and sit there for the final few seconds of my climax, how I would furiously masturbate, the look of intense concentration, every muscle taut and quivering, and the final explosion when I would cum. She said that she never felt more like an object of worship than when I would collapse in front of her immediately after. I told her that if I were an architect, I’d build her a shrine; if I were a painter, I’d immortalize her in oil; If I were a sculpture, I’d cast her in marble, but since I was no such artisan, I could create no such tribute. She told me that I missed the point.

Chino
MKN -