The vibe of this gifset though. I kink damn hard on this sort of intimacy.
Month: March 2017
©Alexandra Oblako
😻😻😻
Just here to say for the umpteeth time that happy porn is the unparalleled best porn.
Pup and I do this thing where we have bath conferences, wherein we reserve important conversations for when we have time to take a bath together and talk them out there. It’s kind of key.
I’ve got this new kink for that thing when Pup fucks me while I’m still wet from someone else fucking me. Ever since that night we fucked right after I had sex with Rex for the first time, it’s something I’ve really, really enjoyed.
After Leo left the other day, Pup and I lazed around in bed for a while. He was a little hungover from the night before and I was about ready for a nap, but our fingers defied our bodies’ otherwise insistent exhaustion. I backed up against him and we egged each other on with furtive brushes of fingertips. Before I knew it, he was asking to enter me and I obliged, my pussy wet and ready from his touch and, more likely by how easily he slipped in, from Leo as well.
It made me feel like a sex toy, almost, the fact that my body had yielded so easily to him, the fact that I’d taken someone else not long before. I told him so and he chuckled. “You are, then,” he said as he fucked me in sharp, urgent thrusts. “That’s exactly what you are.”
I felt myself climbing towards orgasm and his hand clamped onto my shoulder, as though to steer me away. “Don’t you cum now,” he murmured against my neck. “Hold back, baby.”
For a bit, I succeeded. Until he reached down between my legs and I felt the muscles in my thighs quake as he stroked my clit. “No,” I protested, my words choked by a gasp. “Why would you…”
Even though he was behind me, I could hear the smirk in his voice. “I want to,” he replied. “So keep holding it.”
“I’m happy for you,” Leo whispered against my skin, trailing a line of kisses across my clavicle. It was Saturday night and we were in my bed.
“Hm?” I asked. “Why’s that?”
It was late; I was just teetering on the precipice of sleep, a little drunk and otherwise exhausted. Oh top of having a long week, my apartment was packed: Pup’s and my roommate’s boyfriend hanging around and planning to sleep over, Leo was spending the night. Prior, he and I had taken a long hike and had a really nice dinner together, all accompanied by one of those vast, all-day kinds of conversations I love. We’d returned to my place to join Pup, our roommate, her boyfriend and another friend of ours for a silly night of boardgames and beers. He’s met my friends a few times before – and he and Pup get along famously – so the entire evening was an absolute blast. We’d all had a bit too much to drink, so Pup opted for the pullout couch (honestly, a poly lifesaver and one of our best investments, it’s more comfortable than our actual bed) and Leo and I took the bedroom.
“Your news. I’ve been thinking about it tonight,” he explained. “I’m happy for you, but I’ve decided I’m allowed to be sad.”
I’d been saving up the news that I am moving to a new city with Pup in six months for when I saw him in person. Though I’ve been slowly but enthusiastically getting around to sharing the news with people close to me, I noticed that this was the first time I actually felt a little twinge of melancholy in relating it. It was bittersweet. I’ve been a bit too busy to update you all on my life, but things have been going really, really well for us.
“I feel the same way about myself,” I admitted. “If that makes any sense.”
That night, I’d looked around my tiny kitchen and saw, packed in around our little table, a cohort of some of the most important people to me. And I realized that, four years ago, I didn’t know any of them.
In one of my favorite songs of his, David Bowie sings: “My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare/I had to cram so many things to store everything in there.” It’s a sentiment I’ve felt a lot lately, in taking into account the four years I’ve spent in this city. For as excited I am to move onto this new phase and the opportunities it holds, I have often become overwhelmed by the depth and breadth of the little life I’ve created for myself here. So much of my life here is no longer comprised of the things I brought with me when I first moved to this city.
“I never knew I’d need so many people,” Bowie laments a few lines later, and I absolutely get it. Because, fuck, I am going to really miss all of this.