In the bright light of morning, our debauched fun last night is irrefutable. I was boss for most of the night, then it was his turn. I am the upperclassman by default and it comes surprisingly easily.
Don’t get me started on the open bottle of lube, the tired-looking Hitachi, the dirty dishes, and empty popcorn bowls scattered about the apartment. It’s goddamned beautiful.
Whimsical glass butt plugs, garters and stockings, wrists and ankles bound, candle light, exclamations of beauty and lust, an obedient man/a domineering woman//an obedient woman/a domineering man, kisses and whispers and fucking and sucking, slurping and swallowing, eating and drinking, cuddling and touching, talking and laughing. On and on and on it went.
And when I thought I could handle no more he begs me for one last thing. “Can we please watch Bubba Ho-Tep now??” He’d been so good, I couldn’t refuse him. Curled into his lap, his soft belly my pillow, I dozed and started from time to time.
“Wait,” he said as the end credits rolled, “I want one more thing. A goodbye fuck. Come on.” And he grabbed my hand and dragged me into my room which, bathed in warm candlelight was the crime scene of passion: silk scarves pooled like blood, pillows lay about the floor like broken bodies, and the ties on the bed a hint of how it’d all come to pass.
Then he fucked me one last time, took my breath away, and kissed me all over as I lay in the wet spot he’d made me create 2 hours earlier while wrapped up in restraints.
Finally, it was late. “We have a race to think about,” I said. “I’m fucking exhausted.”
He kissed me again and I wrapped myself in a white robe, gingerly stepping over the toys and pillows and scarves and walked him to the front door where I kissed him again.
“I’ll text you early tomorrow,” he said.
“Ok,” I waved at him and yawned. “See you tomorrow. By the way, that was goddamned fantastic.”
“Yes. Yes it was,” he agreed and he finally left.
I’m immersed in a libertine’s wet dream.