Together. M/F from F's POV | 2016

I close the book and look over to him. He’s leaning on the countertop with his head in his hands. He looks up to me and grins. “Goddamn.” I knew what I was doing when I picked the book off the shelf. We’d listened to music together. We’d watched movies together. We’d gone to restaurants together. We’d taken walks together. But we’d never read together. I read him the last few sections of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” a poem included in a collection I’d bought him a few years before. I read carefully and quietly. And those final words—“I stop somewhere waiting for you”—hung in the air between us. I knew reading to him is all it would take.

He moves around the corner of the kitchen to meet me near the sink. His hand reaches out to my waist. Moves across my back. I turn to him. He groans softly and buries his face in my neck, gently placing his lips just below my ear. I smile.

He now has his back resting against the kitchen counter, so I stand in front of him, leaning into him. We kiss. And kiss. And kiss. My full lips meeting his. My tongue lightly pushing into his mouth. I run my hands up his arms, stopping to squeeze his biceps. Then, I carry on up over his shoulders to the back of his head. I run my fingers through his dark hair. His hands waste no time. One pulls me closer to him while the other reaches my breast. He lightly palms my breast as I take a deep breath and arch my back, pushing my body into his hand. My cardigan hits the floor.

I move one of my legs to outside of his, so I can feel his dick against me. Already hard, it pushes against my lower stomach. I bring my knee up the side of his leg, putting my still covered pussy against that growing cock. He drops a hand down to my knee, pulling at the bend, while whispering my name. He pushes the skirt of dress out of the way, and slowly moves his hand up my thigh. When he reaches my underwear, purple with lace trim, purchased just the day before, purchased just for this very event, he finds them already damp. He cups my pussy. I sigh. I bring my leg down and reach my hands up under my dress. In a moment, my pretty new panties lay in a rolled up ball at our feet. I bring my knee back to his side, and he immediately finds my pussy again. He cups it again, applying a firm pressure to my entire vulva, before sliding his thumb across my clitoris.

“To bed” I say, pulling my head back a little so I can see his eyes. We both smile.

As we cross the living room, headed for his bedroom, he reaches out to the keyhole at the back of my dress, undoing the single button. I turn around and, walking backwards, pull him into his room while pulling his shirt over his head. We tumble into bed. I’m not sure how, but his pants are gone. I’m reaching behind my back to unhook my bra.

As I toss the bra away from the bed and onto the bedroom floor, where we’ll grope around for clothing and glasses and earrings the next morning, his hands find my breasts. My large full breasts have always been his favorite thing about my body. He lets them sit heavy in his hands for a moment before he begins to squeeze them. I’m straddling him, but he’s not yet inside me. I lean down to deliberately brush my tits across his lips. He parts those lips, and my nipple is pulled inside his hot mouth. And then the other. I slide back and forth over him so that his dick rubs against my clitoris and my pussy wets him. “My god,” he moans. He squeezes my breasts harder now, marveling at the different shapes them make in his hands.

I reach down and position his dick so that when I lean back, he slowly enters me. As we nearly always do, we sigh simultaneously, enjoying that first entrance. My slippery pussy makes way for him. I move slowly at first, and he knows to just let me go at my own pace as my body adjusts to his. Before long, though, I’m ready to really ride. I lean down to kiss him and move myself up and down his dick. I love to risk it, moving all the way up his body until he’s just centimeters from falling out of me before shifting my weight back and feeling him plunge back inside of me. “I love fucking you,” he whispers in my ear. One of his strong hands sits at the crook of waist, the other tangled in my hair. I push myself back up, placing my hands on his firm pecs. I smile at him while biting my bottom lip. He looks up to me and moans. I stay up for awhile, moving my hips in circles and feeling his cock against the walls of my vagina. I reach behind my ass to his balls and cup them while I move. “Bounce those tits for me,” he instructs, and I comply. They bounce and sway with my exaggerated movements as my hand leaves his balls and travels to my clitoris. He lies back and watches me as I simultaneously put on a show for him and pleasure myself. I can feel the sweat start trickling down the back of my neck and my pulse quickens and quickens. He pulls me down to kiss again. The kissing is desperate now, our mouths jammed together. We moan into each other. “Hold me down,” he instructs again, and I reach my hands over our heads, pulling his hands along. There at the top of the bed, with our hands against the wall, I pin his wrists to the bed. The next morning, we’ll find blood stains there on the wall and two sets of scraped kunckles between us. But right now, we don’t even feel it.

I push down on his dick and up and down his body with my thighs squeezing his. I can’t help but rhythmically groan with each of my movements as I begin to feel less and less in control of my own body. We stay in this position for a long time, my hair in his face, my lips buried in his neck. Our sweat begins to intermingle. When I start to feel like I can’t breathe anymore, I let up, leaning once again back on him and freeing his hands. He pulls at my tits, and I know, like every morning-after we share, I’ll find my breasts bruised and bitten in the light of day. For the next week, just catching sight of my own marked and swollen breasts will send me diving into bed to masturbate to the memory of his making those marks. I can’t take it much longer and can feel my orgasm building. He knows the timing of my body so well that he says “I can’t wait for you to come” before I’ve even placed my hand back over my pussy. Not wanting to keep him waiting, I put my middle finger against my clit and move it quickly back and forth while slowly grinding into him. He says so many different things while I push myself toward orgasm: “I love fucking you.” “You’re so sexy.” “I love you.” “Please come for me.” When my orgasm comes, I feel it radiate in different directions, from my clitoris but also from deep inside me. I let out a guttural sound that surprises both of us. We laugh. “Holy shit,” I say, removing my hand from my pussy and wiping it across his chest. “Indeed,” he answers. Pulling me down to him.

He holds me there. My breasts against his chest, my mouth on his shoulder, my teeth grazing his skin. “Pull my hair,” I demand. And he does. “Harder,” I say. And he does. He thrusts up into me now as I push down his body. “Fuck me,” I whisper. “Fuck me.” And he does. He pushes up into me harder and harder with each stroke. “I’m going to make you come,” I say before pushing off his chest and leaning back for the last time. I ride him, hard and fast. His hands just rest on my thighs as he’s too incapacitated to do much more. Soon, he comes. As always, when that moment arrives, he pulls me down to him and stops my movements. Just allowing his body to orgasm into me. I feel his semen dripping out of me as we stay in this position and catch our breaths.

In a moment, I’ll finally get off of him and roll over to my side of the bed. Only then will I notice how sore my quads are from the last half hour of riding him. Later in the night, I’ll wake him up by pushing my ass into him until he can’t help but fuck me again. In the morning, we fuck one more time. Slowly and gently. I’ll shower. He’ll make breakfast. We’ll talk about our plans for the day. He’ll walk me to the car. We’ll hug there. A long hug because we do not know when we’ll see each other again. We’ll kiss. We’ll smile. I’ll drive pull out onto the busy road his neighborhood meets, fumbling with my phone to find a good song to listen to. A few days will pass. We’ll text back and forth. We'll get busy with our own lives. We’ll both wonder why we aren’t together.

But for now, I just rest there. His cock still inside me. Our sweat mixing. Our hearts beating together.