My homecoming made me orgasm five times.

I flew in late last night to similar weather from what I’d just left. My parents were all smiles as we drove back to their house. We’d all agreed it’d be better for me to stay the night since I was taking them back to the airport at 6:30 the next morning.

I had a couple of glasses of wine with my mom then dragged my sorry ass to bed. The Neighbor’s sweet pleas to come get fucked glowing on my phone.

“I guess I’ll have to wait till tomorrow morning,” he realized.

“Looks like it,” I replied.

As the sun rose pink and yellow over the horizon I squirmed in my pajama pants and boots as my parents chattered like birds, excited and eager for their own trip.

Free and alone I headed west, the day at my back, and giggled. It wasn’t even 7 o’clock and I had a date to get the shit fucked out of me.

Once home I quickly cleaned up and slipped into something more comfortable and snuck next door. I stripped down to only my argyle knee-high socks and did my best to wake him up.

I dragged my breast across his cheek and stroked his mighty, sleeping erection. Finally, he awoke with a jerk and pulled me under the covers with him.

We played and snuggled and I bathed his cock with my mouth then mounted him like a mare in heat. The headboard slapped the wall with a loud, yet bored insolence.

I rolled my eyes and panted, possessed with desire. He sat up under me and I locked my ankles behind his back.

“You happy to be home, Hy?” he puffed into my neck.

“Oh, yes,” I breathed back between thrusts. “Very happy.”

He rolled me over onto my back and I clutched the footboard. It was even angrier with us and its clapping disapproval made us burst with laughter. The neighbors must hate us, I thought.

TN’s phone chimed with a text just then. It was Downstairs Neighbor telling TN to “move your goddamned bed away from the wall!!”

He shoved something between the wood and the wall and rejoined me with a giant grin. “That oughta do it!l

He pounded me with a little grin and flipped me over and blindfolded me, pinned my arms to my lower back and rode for the hills wailing on my flanks, the crack of his hand mixing with my cries.

“Did you go home before you came here?” he suddenly asked.

“Yes,” I mumbled into the mattress.

“Good. Lets go next door. It’s been far too long since you had an orgasm. Nine days, Hy!!”

I lifted my rosy face to look at him. “Seriously? Now?”

“Yes. Now. Get up. And don’t put anything on.”

I stood on wobbly legs and we jumped the few feet from door to door. 45 degrees feels goddamned awesome on a bare ass, lemme tell you.

We beelined to my bedroom, my apartment quiet and still. My bed was beautifully made, a canvas for our sexual arts.

Our dance began with his mouth on my breast, him pushing me down, spreading my knees and sliding in. I gripped my headboard and it squealed in protest, too, but I hung on. My pussy moaned and dripped around us. He flipped me this way and that and tortured me with his kingly cock and my humming hitachi. I only barely watched him through my lashes; I couldn’t bare to meet his steady gaze.

One, two laying on the bed, his hands and mouth on me. Three, my bottom hanging off the side and him standing regally above me. Four, he just wanted to watch and five was a surprise as he fucked my face.

I lay in his arms, and we stretched out like cats. I, a languid puddle in a sunbeam, him a greedy little creature who couldn’t bear it when my hand stilled from stroking the pelt on his chest.

We laughed and talked and I gave him his gift. A 1000-piece puzzle of a Jackson Pollock painting I’d found in the SF MOMA gift shop. “I like to torture you,” I said as he opened his eyes, the box in his hand.

He was thrilled. “I guess you do!!”

With ten minutes to spare before he had to be at work he got up to leave.

“C’mere, you,” I beckoned and pulled him down for a kiss. “That’s what your cock tastes like.”

“Wow. I taste pretty good!” I smiled at him and walked him to the door, his pink hardon bobbing as he walked. He gave my breast a final squeeze, looked around the landing and ducked back inside his apartment.

That was our one and only kiss this morning because, he said, “I might just be a hooker with a heart deep inside.”

Indeed. He can’t kiss me and I can’t look him in the eye. We’re quite the pair, TN and Hy. I’m happy to be home, though. So, so happy.

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At my favorite diner for breakfast. Black coffee and book must-haves.

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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18 thoughts on “My homecoming made me orgasm five times.
        1. Yes, Daddy, I know ;)

          The fact that he’s a hooker with a heart (remember Pretty Woman?) continues to speak volumes about where his head is at (even if everything else seems to say his heart is somewhere else).

          I’m good. The Greek wants to see me the weekend after Thanksgiving. :)

          1. I was gonna ask about him and the Brit. So you picked Zorba? I woulda figured sex appeal would overide money? But what do I know?

  1. Welcome back, pretty! I have a poem for you…

    Hard.
    I love pain down my spine hard
    Shivering and shaking
    Like a razor-winged butterfly hard
    Flying in fury
    I’m never sure why it’s a two-way street
    So I let them have it their way
    Just to be safe, it’s hard
    Present in the body
    Crying in the mind
    Does it always feel this hollow?
    Or leave me with no insides, all hard
    How much is too much?
    If everything feels like not enough
    Loving it so hard
    The act of loving is no longer my own gift
    Just plain heart-hard
    Promising never to let it happen to me again.

  2. “He can’t kiss me and I can’t look him in the eye.’ Interesting…
    “he said, “I might just be a hooker with a heart deep inside.” What the hell does that mean exactly?

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