I don’t require sex, but I get fucked anyway.

I worried that he was trying to cancel on me when I got this text:

So fucking exhausted :-(

So I assured him that fucking tonight was not a requirement.  I thought, “Hmm, it’ll be nice just to make him dinner and chill, watch A Game of Thrones maybe…”

Butter-poached sea bass, braised kale with bacon and onion, and a roasted cauliflower with caramelized yellow onions and goat’s milk puree were on the menu.  He’d mentioned before how impressed he is at my cooking skills and I wanted to really knock his socks off.

While chopping crispy bacon bits he walked up behind me and hefted my braless breasts into his hands.  I arched my back and pushed my bottom into the warm curve of his groin and fed him a piece of bacon.  He squeezed my breasts.  I fed him another piece.  He pinched my nipples.  “Nothing better than breasts and bacon, no?” I stated.

I turned around and took his scruffy face in my hands.  “I love your 5 o’clock shadow,” I purred before I dipped my mouth to his.  It was salty, like mine.  Bacon-y.  He took a hand off his face and put it on his bulging shorts. He was huge and hot.

I took another piece of bacon, “SIT,” I commanded.  He grinned and complied.  I straddled his legs and pressed my pubis into his face.  He opened his mouth and breathed hot breath through the cotton of my dress.

I came back to reality then and finished dinner.  We ate, laughed, watched a couple of A Game of Thrones like I’d hoped.  When the second episode began he came to sit next to me on the couch, our thighs pressed along the length of each other, his arm over my shoulder.  I absent-mindedly stroked his erection; he casually held my right breast.

When the second show was over he teased me for trying to have sex after all.  I assured him it wasn’t on my mind.  Then I pushed him back on the couch and cooed to him about being so tired; how awful it must be.  I breathed on his shaft through his basketball shorts and I pulled the tip of his cock out from under the waistband and I licked.

My hair tumbled down around us, slick and cool on our hot skin.  I pulled off his shorts and my breasts strained against the flimsy top of my dress as I dragged them on either side of his erection and pink, wrinkly ball sack.  He groaned and said how good that felt.  I licked him from stern to stem and gently rolled his testes around in my mouth, spit slid under his sack.  Then I started to move on the shaft with my hand gripped tight around its girth, my mouth dancing on the head.  I drank in his salty precum and groaned with delight.  God I love to suck cock.

Somehow, we ended up in my room.  Maybe he brought the candle, I don’t know, but he was gloriously naked and I was not.  He shoved me roughly down on the bed and crawled up my length.  “I’m not going to fuck you,” he said with a grin.

“Good.  I don’t want you to,” I boldly replied.

He peeled off my panties and pulled my dress up over my head.  I stretched out under his gaze: rounded valleys of warm, cream-colored skin against stark white bedding.  I felt myself melt into the down comforter beneath me.  This is where I wanted to be.

He made to mount me and I dodged his naked shaft.  He slid it in the fold between my plump upper-thigh and my swollen vulva.  I got wetter and kept wiggling my hips away.  He left me for a minute and proudly revealed a string of golden condoms he’d smuggled into my apartment and dropped them next to my head.

“But we’re not fucking,” I reminded him.

“Nope,” he answered as he rolled one on.

He fell back over me and butted the head of his cock against my hole.  I scooted up the bed a few inches and continued to kiss him back, passionately, with every fiber of my being.  I feel for you, I screamed through my kisses.

His mocking thrusts were becoming more insistent.  I moved away again, closer to my metal headboard.  I was losing ground.

His hands ran all over me; I squeezed his buttock’s flesh in my hands, lightly scraped my fingers on his tender skin and spanked him.  He chuckled as he moved closer and I ran out of room to run all together.

“You have no where else to go,” he growled in my ear.  And then his cock was peeling me open and he was sliding in.  I felt his pressure deep inside of me, practically in my throat.  He went slow — oh, so slow — and I grasped at him with my cunt, sucked on him like my eager mouth did, and as I did I slowly and sweetly drenched us and I began to cry.

I felt exposed and raw.  This was too slow, too obvious.  I felt like he could plainly see on my forehead a marquee of my feelings for him.  I’d turned down sex on my second date with the man from Tuesday night the night before because I simply couldn’t imagine it being any better than what it was with him.  “I am so fucked,” I thought as he watched me in wonder lose my shit beneath him.

All I could think to say was “Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” or “Ohshitohshitohshit,” interspersed with “Neighbor, I fucking love your cock.”  I felt helpless and devoured as my g-spot sang and my arms and legs became lead.  I pulled his head down to my breast and let him suck while he rocked into my core; taken at nearly every angle a single man can.

He hooked my ankles up on his shoulders and began to press into me with gusto.  My pussy smacked and squelched with my passionate releases, his tempo increased further.  I tried hard not to keep covering my face and instead focused on his mouth.  That sweet, bow mouth with the dusting of faintly red shadow.

I pivoted back on him and pushed against my wall with all my might as he pegged me to the bed.  I could sense his cock swell inside of me, could hear him lose his breath along with the manly moans that began to escape him.  And then he was riveting into me and crying out and I couldn’t help but expel my own shouts and moans of  pleasure with him.

A minute later, as he is wont to do, he began to move inside of me again.  I had given up all hope of any sense of control and let him do whatever he wanted.  He spanked me and pinched me and I just kept crying helplessly, happily.

Finally, he was through with me and he rolled onto his side and pulled me into his big spoon, a heavy arm draped over my waist, his hand nestled between my breasts.

We talked for a while, about what I couldn’t tell you if my life depended on it.  All I know is that his cock, still mostly hard, found its way into my eager mouth.  He came close to cumming again a couple of times, but wasn’t able.  It’s usually his custom to not cum at all during sex.  Or so he’s said.  Certainly, there have been several encounters of ours where he hasn”t.  I do my best to not feel as though I am unskilled; I, of all people, know that you don’t have to orgasm to truly and deeply enjoy sex.

I felt gorgeous and relaxed with him right then.  More so than before and so I grabbed my Hitachi and stood on the floor with my knee hitched up on the bed, the candle flickering to my left, my lovely neighbor splayed out before me.  I turned it on and pressed it against my mound.  He slid closer, under me, and reached his fingers inside.

Immediately, I bucked against his hand.  He stroked his finger against my channel’s padding and I strained not to loose myself so soon on him.  I told him to hold still and I would move against him and the blinding light, the intensity of pleasure that cracked through my cells caused me to shiver for minutes and minutes more when I was cradled in his arms.  His chuckles puffed onto my neck as he held me.

I’ve never been split in two like that before.  I reveled in it, the hormonal surges reminded me of when after I pushed out my baby I lay on the hospital bed, teeth chattering, and comparing it to all the times I’d ever done Ecstasy.  It was like that last night.  I couldn’t think.  I wanted to tell him how I felt about him.  I wanted to lock all my windows and doors and never let him leave.

However, I didn’t, but I also didn’t escape totally unscathed.  I jokingly told him my social security number and a deplorable fantasy I had the other day about a client. ” I am not allowed to think of clients in a sexual manner,” I told him, “I feel horrible.”  He assured me it was ok if I did.  I told him he should leave his friend’s birthday party early tonight to come and fuck me and “do absolutely whatever” he wants to me knowing full well he’ll never do that.  He’s taking the-girl-who-won’t-touch-him and I think he always has hope that might change.

The point is, I didn’t give a fuck how obvious I sounded.  It was a Herculean effort on my part to say only those simpleton things.  Logically, I knew it was the oxytocin, so I was saved from irreparably damaging this magic thing I have going on with a babble of stupid words, but I still said stupid shit.  — ARGH, I’m sure I could fill an entire blog with the stupid shit we say after a bone-jarring orgasm.  But still, he praised me, wondered at me, and kissed me, and then he began to spank me.  So hard I felt his hand prints like a sunburn on my bottom and flanks.  I begged him to ice it and he obliged. The water cooled my bulging, raw pussy lips and wrapped around my waist to end in a tepid puddle under my belly.

He suggested we watch another episode of A Game of Thrones after that and I ended up falling asleep I was so spent.  Granted, it was late, but I had nothing left to give.  Even to the fucking TV at that point.  He woke me up with a laugh and I sat upright for the last 7 minutes, embarrassed and longing for my bed.  He stood up, noted the time (1:15 am) and said it was bedtime.  I agreed, kissed him, gave him a smack on the ass and said goodnight.  I didn’t even care I was going to sleep alone.

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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20 thoughts on “I don’t require sex, but I get fucked anyway.
  1. Oh My Hy!
    That was so real…I feel like I was there. (and I would have probably enjoyed being there for real but oh well, c’est la vie! I don’t even have any neighbor to speak of!) It was an intense and beautiful post. Thanks for sharing it with the less fortunate!

    Bisous,
    Dawn

  2. The sex you have always sounds amazing. But what’s all of this emotion? I thought you couldn’t fall for the TN? and he’s trying to be with a woman won’t touch him?! That sounds horrid. I’ve missed some stories. I’ll need to go back…

    1. It’s usually fairly good, I must admit. Last night was goddamned awesome. And not much for you to catch up on except I’ve finally admitted to having feelings for TN. He, to the best of my knowledge, does not feel similarly.

  3. Hi Hy, :) I love reading every word of your experiences. The details you share and the honesty with which you weave your tales speak volumes about love and sex as you experience them from the depths of your being. I am so lucky to have found you.

    I think Gillian is not far off the mark with this one if at all.

    Cruel.

  4. I hope you’re going to give the new man a chance. How do you know how it will be with him if you never try? Plus, the neighbor isn’t looking for a relationship so it would be a good idea for you to make yourself branch out.

  5. I don’t like to see people settle, Hyacinth. You deserve the emotional connection along with great sex. There are men out there who can supply that but you have to believe that you are worthy. Your high libido isn’t an issue, either. Loads of men would love to have that “problem” to contend with. My libido ramped up a few years ago but my husband keeps up just fine. We are having fun exploring new toys and diving into bed in the middle of the day when we can get away with it.

    1. All true. The crux of the matter is whether or not I’m willing to put myself out there to expect to get all that. I’m faced with almost certain disappointment if I do, right?? At least that’s what my heart tells me. So, I’m kinda fucked.

  6. No, you aren’t faced with certain disappointment. You are selling yourself short. You need to believe that you are sexy and interesting-that you have a lot to offer, which you do. Men will definitely pick up on this kind of confidence. Do whatever you need to do to build yourself back up. Have you been taking time to work out? At a minimum I take a long walk with my dog every day and it makes me feel good and gives me time to think.
    Putting yourself out there won’t be so bad. Even if you have a date that bombs it can make for a funny story. Time is a-wastin’, girl. Get your ass in gear and stop making excuses.

    1. Hahaha! Well said, but I only lack confidence when it comes to a real relationship. I have many a bad date, and like you said, I think they make for terrific stories.

      I know I slay men (am I allowed to admit that without so much as a hint of modesty??). I can get laid pretty much whenever I want by nearly whomever I choose. My heart, though, is a different story.

      How does one convince herself her person is as worthy as her pussy? That her heart is as much a treasure as her skills? That is my current journey.

      I really and truly appreciate your words and the care in them.

  7. You must have sustained a major kick in the teeth to make you put up such a protective barrier. I don’t know what will work for you to reinforce that you have so much to offer. Reminding yourself of past successes? Setting goals for yourself and then giving yourself props when you meet them? Try to find whatever it takes, even if it seems cheesy. The body confidence is great, and no, you don’t have to be modest.

    I had to work on the body confidence. I was burned when I was little so when I was a teenager I had to come to grips with my scars. I had reconstructive surgery and some scars were minimized, but not all. I spent time just standing naked in front of a mirror and making myself accept the scars that remain. I determined then that I would never let anyone make me feel bad about my body. Surviving something like that at such a young age gave me an inner strength and made me look at life differently. For example, I don’t have time for bullshit and never tolerate anyone treated me poorly. In addition, I also am just happy to be here, and find so many things to get excited about. I want to live and love with all my heart. I have had losses but I am not afraid of experiencing more because I know I am resilient. When I die I want to be able to say, “God damn, that was a helluva ride.”

    1. Beautifully said, Petunia, from one blossom to another.

      My fears are from emotional scars: I have never been enough for anyone I’ve ever loved or been “right” in their eyes, so to be vulnerable in that way… I need to believe in myself more first (obvs) before I lay myself open for judgment. When I fully have me by my side, then I’ll go for it.

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