I thought of Girl on the Net while fucking.

It’s true.

She strutted into my thoughts all English and lovely and long-legged and stupidly smart late yesterday afternoon while a 6′ tall Australian man was doing his best to kill me with his giant cock.

I lay beneath him with my eyes tightly shut and thrashed about – as per normal – and thought about a tweet I’d seen of hers a few days before.

I’m not much of a Twitter user – it overwhelms me – but I caught one of her tweets last week about a post she’d written.  I hadn’t even read it when she came bursting into my thoughts, but the title and her comments in the tweet were more than enough: Eye contact challenge: can you keep your eyes open for an entire fuck?

Well, my answer is a resounding NO and it has always been NO.  I could probably count on one hand – 2/5 of my hand actually -the number of times I’ve gazed into a lover’s eyes longer than .75 seconds at a time from beneath passion fluttered lids.  It makes me want to die.

Like the kind of cringey, never show your face again, humiliating, you can’t look at that it’s too much information about me kind of dying.

So imagine my surprise when GotN’s challenge creeped into my grunts of More!, Deeper, Yes, I love that huge Aussie cock!

I looked up and he was staring at me grinning from ear to ear.  “I love your smile when I’m inside of you.  Just love it.”  His pale blue eyes were crinkled, his face red and brows furrowed.  He was devouring me.  I shut my eyes.  Was I supposed to look back at him like I was going to conquer him, too??  wouldn’t I look ridiculous?

We fucked like animals for a good 20 minutes, deep and punishingly.  He folded me up and turned me this way and that and I was relieved when he turned me around for a spell.  I could finally NOT look at him in peace.

But the final move was with me half hanging off the mattress with him on his knees.  I’d suggested he put on his bright blue sneakers for traction on the wooden floors and laughed at the preposterous image.  A Nike ad, but with sex.

I was going to really do it this time.  I was going to look longer than it took for him to complete a sentence.  “Do you want me to keep fucking you or do you want me to cum all inside of you?”

It was an easy choice.

“Fill me up,” I panted.

I watched him look down at me as his orgasm passed across his features like a wave.  He looked so lost in himself but still with me, comfortable with it all.  I thought, I kinda did that. 

I still failed miserably at GotN’s challenge, but I am now wondering why the fuck I have this aversion to allow someone to look into my eyes.  I know he’s already staring at me – the joy of being male with his sex organ placed on the front of his body, I suppose – so why can’t I look back?

I avoided looking at TN, too, so it’s not just FWBs.  I couldn’t bear to look in my exhusband’s eyes, either, though I may have tried a time or two.  I don’t deny wanting to keep people away from me even while they’re buried balls deep between my legs.  My body, my rules. It’s just odd that even after all these years I continue to employ these little tricks to not connect with people.

So, ok, challenge accepted, GotN.  I’ll look into his fucking eyes next time whoever it is.  I hope you’re happy.