Full-time

My last post covered opportunities seized along the edges - an hour with F here, an hour in the back of the car with D there. I do not think such times are enough in themselves to sustain sexual connections of the depth and intensity that I desire. But once that connection is established, they can assist in its maintenance. It is important, though, to find ways to be together for longer. Today I managed that: by a subtle juggling of obligations and alibis I cleared about four hours, which D and I spent in a mirror room at the Kew.

The mirror room was chosen in part because D had expressed interest in fucking me with the strap-on and watching herself, which she could do easily enough in the wall-mirror, while I watched myself get fucked in the ceiling-mirror. And we did get to do just that, late on in the four hours. D fucked me with the new dildo and then, when it was obvious that I just wanted her to be deeper, with the older, larger dildo. Even that, I felt, did not cleave me in quite the way that I wanted. But it was very good, very intense and demanding. And D looked great fucking me.

We had begun with D climbing on top, lowering herself on to my cock, and fucking me, and many aspects of being fucked by D are the same whether she is fucking me by riding my cock or fucking me by taking my ass with the strap-on. I encourage her in the same way, try to give myself to her just as much. But she cannot come while fucking me with the strap-on, whereas when she rides my cock she can and does come again and again. I am not penetrated in the same way when she rides my cock as when she fucks my ass, obviously. I can, when she is fucking me by riding my cock, if I am stoned, grant her the role of fucker, me the role of the one who is being fucked. And once that is done, it is possible to interpret the sensations of fucking as those of being fucked in such a way that I feel she is penetrating me, coming inside me. Today, then, I was encouraging her to come in me, again and again, and she obliged.

The stoned fucking was not the first act, for we had fucked before we smoked: I took D's ass the second we were in the room, pulling her jeans down and working my cock into her ass with minimal lubrication or preparation. That led into some edge of the bed cunt-fucking, more ass-fucking, and eventually to the decision to take all our clothes off and get stoned.

I am so happy, so relieved of the boredom of the rest of existence, when I am fucking or being fucked, that it is difficult ever to stop. D asked today, during one of her cigarette breaks, when I was lying tense and impatient on the bed, if it was painful not to be fucking, and I was inclined to answer 'yes'; but I realized that she was asking something else, to do with the idea that for men it is difficult to be aroused and not fucking, that women somehow inflict pain upon men by saying 'no'. I do not think that this is true - what I find hard is the diminution of arousal in myself. But perhaps the end-result is the same. Still, there is no arousal damper more efficient than the realization that the woman you are fucking no longer wants to be fucked, so it is not as if I am impatient for anything except more pleasure for her as well as for myself. The standard, 'blue balls' story is meant to persuade women to give men what they want even if they don't want it themselves - that it would be cruel to say 'no' once the man is aroused, because it is painful to be aroused and not permitted to act upon it. My complaint is a different one - that it is painful to feel arousal begin to slip away and the world as it is otherwise begin to reassert itself. I am typically quite happy to have my cock ignored, so long as I am not asked to ignore the woman I am with at the same time.

Nearly four hours with D means a lot of sex, and any day with a lot of sex in it is a good day. So this was a very good day. We did all the things we always do, watched ourselves doing all those things in the mirrors, congratulated ourselves on how fucking hot we looked doing all those things, and so on. And we did look hot. True, I looked like a grey-haired old man fucking a woman a good ten or more years his junior, for though D and I are only six months apart in age we look to be separated by at least a decade. You could not market film of this as porn, as she is not young enough for it count as old man/young girl, and the MILF must be fucked by someone younger rather than older. Still, I say we looked hot.

The fiercest of D's orgasms are so intense that 'coming' seems a strange word to use. Falling, bursting, going - or the French petit mort. Wonderful to behold; even more wonderful to be a part of.