Running Up That Hill

Last Friday was an interruption to my standard pattern, as I did not spend the afternoon at the Kew Motor Inn with D. This Friday, everything was back to normal - though 'normal' is not really a word that can ever be used in relation to sex with D. Here is her report, pasted in (without her knowledge) from her recap e-mail to me:

I think everytime I attempt the daunting task of writing a recap, after one of these afternoons at the Kew, I simply think I can not do it. If I try to remember really hard about what transpired in the hours between 1 and 4 I can remember how we started, how we ended, some things in between. But there are no words that can describe these hours at the Kew when we get stoned and get to be together.

I love this part of my life, the time that I get to drive my car from my job and find you. I love the short ride to the Kew and how it only takes minutes to get from the car to a room where we can first kiss and touch each other. I love to get stoned with you and talk first about what we are about to do. We started talking about this, and I remember saying to you that this was great sex, this conversation about masturbating in front of eachother that we were having. Of course you knew exactly what I was talking about. It was wonderful to spread my legs in front of you on the floor and show you my cunt. I know you adore it so much, and I have grown to adore it too. My ability to make myself come with my fingers is a testament to that. But it is also very personal in a way that sets it apart from my vibrators. When I thought of doing it in front of you last night I thought of (believe it or not) you sitting in back of me on the bed, facing the mirrors like we did when I jerked you off. I thought of you holding back my legs and spreading my cuntlips apart with your fingers. And then my finger rubbing my clit while we watched together in the mirror. But then when we got stoned together I kind of clammed up thinking about it. I know we will do that, perhaps the next time at the Kew.

So for this time I sat you on the floor facing me. I started rubbing my clit, looking down at my cunt, seeing me all open and pink for you. But I don't remember how I came. I know you were doing something to me. As I told you it often takes me a long time to come this way. And I wanted to come and it was so tempting to have you right there before me. I know you cannot resist me sexually, and you were just dying to touch me, lick me, smell me. That is always what makes me so crazy horny, your expertise with my body and how we read each other's minds sexually. I came, and we kissed and held each other. We moved over to the bed and we began the most amazing fucking. You on top of me, pushing your way into my tight cunt. Soon I was very wet and you slipped in and out of me slowly. I began to come again and again. You were grinding on my clit and looking at me, so happy. We were as close as two people could be. We fucked for a long, long time. At one point you suspected I might be tired so you warned me that you would continue to fuck me. And then we had our little "fuck me harder" battle... and we both won as that morphed into a soft erotic fuck after we became so heated we could do nothing more but switch gears.

Most of the afternoon we spent having oral sex. I sat on your face at first and then you ate me out while I sat up on the bed for a very long time. I must have come tens of times. The orgasms were just rolling over one after the next. I was really enjoying how relaxed it was, how I knew you would spend as much time between my legs licking my cunt as I wanted. How you would not stop. How much you enjoy giving to me in this way, and how much you take from my experience which is ours together.

Then I got crafty, with the musical blowjob stuff. The first song, Desert Rose, I think is very erotic . . . a safe, maybe anyone can do it, classic musical blowjob (MBJ) song. I have listened to that song so many times stoned on my deck, imagining sucking your cock. I hope I did as good a job as I have always wanted to do when I imagined it. You were shaking and moaning and climaxing over and over. And then Fragile, and of course I have sucked your cock many times to that song. And so I think that along with this building that occurred from the other song, and the soft guitar guiding my tongue on the head of your cock , my hands up and down your shaft. You nearly exploded. And then, Running up that Hill . . . I think that was your favorite because it connected you to the past and as you said, it put me back there with you. That is pretty cool and a really great way to listen to this music now. I wonder if you listened on the way home on the subway? But perhaps you had to start the detoxification.

I never sat on your cock! How did that happen? I did however get fucked continually and at one point you started talking to me about how clever I am, how I continue to amaze you, how we are so good for each other in all these different kinds of ways that make it so wonderful to be together. You were just so adoring of me today, and I felt so loved and adored. I can't tell you how happy I was to see you. I was starving for you.

I loved jerking you off in front of the mirror, holding you in my arms. That was the perfect ending to a perfect day for me. I adore you so much and I love to see you so comfortable with me, so relaxed and yet incredibly excited in my arms with my hand jerking your cock. You had to come for me.

So that is my recap. Thank you, my very dear friend and very best lover. D

D is right that it is hard to reconstruct these intense sessions. Part of that is being stoned, but only part, for it is almost as hard to remember the order and details of equivalently intense and active sessions when we were not stoned. Sex is not memorable, as I have observed before. D's recap fails to capture what our time together was like, but not through any failing that could be remedied by better note-taking or more complete recall. Each entry in this blog that recounts some sexual encounter or other fails in similar fashion.

Besides all the activity mentioned by D, there was one round of ass-fucking, or two if you count a change of position as constituting the end of one round and the start of another. The very first thing that we did was stand next to the mirror and kiss and make out, feeling each other up through our clothes. D kept her clothes on while we got stoned, but I removed mine. I sat at her feet while we smoked, and we talked about how she jerked off at home. I took off her shoes, and eventually helped her out of her hose and the tight, short black skirt she was wearing, so she was in her pale blue lace panties, but still with her blouse on. I unbuttoned that, and played with her nipples inside her white, lacy bra. She then took off her panties, sat on the floor facing me, and started fingering herself.

By deciding that her first orgasm should be from her own hand, and that I should not touch her at all until she had come, I turned myself into a spectator - but not a passive one, for of course D and I could talk, I could tell how pretty and pink and tempting her cunt was, how wonderful she looked with her legs spread, her fingers methodically working her clit. The noli me tangere rule got broken, however, as D asked me to pinch and tweak her nipples, and it was that as much as anything she was doing to her clit that took her over the edge.

The 'fuck me harder' contest was fun, but D is generous in describing it as a draw, as it was really a victory for her. She can take harder fucking than I can give her, for longer than I can give it to her. This is true whether it is her cunt I am fucking or her ass.

There was a great deal of oral sex, as D says. The musical blow jobs were not quite as intense, as the splitter was not working properly, so we were only getting the left channel. But still extraordinary, exhilarating, ecstatic. I am at my noisiest under those conditions - stoned, listening to loud music, with D relentlessly working my cock with her mouth and her hand. The music provides a level of ambient sound that makes it easier for me to vocalize my pleasure in moans and gasps and groans and shouts. By contrast, D is quieter when music is playing, at her noisiest when I go down on her, wrap my arms around her thighs and refuse to let go of her clit with my lips and tongue. That kind of determined and forceful pleasuring is something I am driven to do by an urge deep within me, and not something that could easily be elicited by attention to music as well as to D's sexual response. So perhaps she is quieter when music is playing because my approach to her is generally quieter under those conditions.

We were in a room with a high bed, and so did some edge of the bed fucking, first ass fucking and then cunt fucking. At this point, D's armpit hair is luxuriant, and she does look incredibly sexy lying on the bed in the half-light, arms raised above her head, with my cock driving into her cunt or her ass. If I lean back slightly, she gets no clitoral stimulation and so cannot quite make it to the point of no-return, and it is fun to play with delay. But after a while, D demanded that I lean forward to allow her to synchronize her pelvic movements with mine and to generate enough pressure to get herself off. She can do this about as easily whether my cock is in her cunt or her ass in this position.

The final handjob was very joyful - I put my glasses on so I could see clearly, and sat close to the edge of the bed, facing the mirror. D sat right behind me, one leg either side, put her right arm around me and took my cock in her left hand. Resting her head on my shoulder, she could see just what I could see. At some point she changed hands, and jerked my cock until I came. Though this had the formal structure of a 'money shot', the mood and tone was utterly at odds with anything in porn: affectionate, amused, light-hearted, happy, and playful. But it was also fucking hot to watch.