What Was With The Butt Fucking?

March 1, 2011 § 2 Comments


I haven’t had a cock in my ass in over four years. Well. I hadn’t, anyway. I really wasn’t expecting you to go for it, either. I felt you pushing and you have seemed a bit focused on my ass when we’re fucking, but we’d just had that conversation about how much I hate butt sex and how much you only like it if the girl likes it, too, so I thought it was just a little bit of playing around until you had shoved it in fast and hard and I felt like you were stabbing my belly button from the inside of me.

The only time you say nice things to me is during sex. The rest of the time it’s obscurity about music and movies. I like the strange way your brain bounces and I like to see your mouth moving, lips sliding over your teeth without all that stickiness some people have going on. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink water, so I don’t know how you keep your mouth so wet.

When you’re talking to me when we fuck I turn suddenly shy; at a loss for words when words are what I do best. “How’d you get so wet?” you’ll ask, pulling my hair. You manage to fuck my hair into knots, even though it’s short and fine and well conditioned. I can’t answer you. I don’t know what to say. I’ve tried, but I sound like a scientist.

“Well, you see, the physical stimulation of your cock on my pussy during frottage biologically inclines me to create moisture that would assist the entry of your beautiful dick into my body. Couple that with the psychological stimulation of your hand on my throat, and- well, you can see why it turns into a wave pool down there.”

That’s usually when you stick your fingers in me, then shove them in my mouth. That’s cool, man, I’d rather not talk. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m going to call you daddy or say something really fucked up and you’re going to go limp, so I’m happy just laying there and listening to you.

The thing about the butt sex is, I’m not sure what the fuck you meant by that. We haven’t really been getting along so great, and I’ve been a bit of a sad sack in your bed, and we had this big stupid talk about how we probably suck for each other, and then there you go, shoving my face into the pillow and your cock in my ass. It was only in there for a second, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to spend the rest of the day wondering if you did it because you fucking hate me.

Maybe, the next time we’re fucking and you open your soft, beautiful mouth to start asking me questions, I’ll turn it around. Maybe next time, before you can say a word, I’ll stop you and ask, “What was with the butt fucking?”

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