Last night?
It was time for a sexy party. I even wore a costume. Yes, me!
Jonah got pressed into volunteer service at a Burner-run play party last night. We decided to go to play before that volunteer shift. Am I glad we did! There was an anal play workshop that was extremely educational. Although every now and then, I love anal play, it’s complicated for me. I have quite a lot of pain when I have anal play, and fear of pain makes me hesitant and nervous about anal play unless I’m so utterly turned on that I’m the one craving it. With Jonah, that’s never been as issue, but I find that so few men really understand anal play. So, yay for sex education!
There was a cabaret, too, but we didn’t make it to that show. Instead, we fucked … and fucked … and fucked. We fucked for an hour and a half. We were stoned as fuck, and one of the first couples in the place space. And I was with him … just on another plane entirely. Jonah and I connect so deeply during sex. If I think a thought or feel a desire about what I’d love done, more often than not, he responds to it as if I’d spoken. To feel that intense connection to him in the sight and hearing of others is incredibly erotic to me. I was buzzing with energy, filled to the brim, overflowing, in ecstasy, falling back off the mattress, squirting from my nipples and my pussy, coming from deep inside me, from my womb, on fire with the beautiful *friction* of him, shooting that energy out of me, radiant, in love, feeling like the goddess that I am, hearing other voices eventually join the song I’m singing, the vaginal song, the song of spirit set free, the song of giving and taking, of master and slave, of lover and beloved. To feel his hands at my throat, to feel his love for me, his excitement at breaking a taboo of his own making, to give me something I love so much, to take me higher, making me faint back, gushing cum, to hear him growl and fuck me harder, hand at my throat?
Fuck!
He found my A spot during manual play, and I gasped, “Don’t stop!” He kept at that beautiful spot, and I gushed and gushed, so slippery, trying to push him out, making him fight to stay in me. Me on top of him, flying, bringing him just to the brink of cumming and backing down, both of us teasing him like that. Feeling his response to my emotions and energy, hearing him gasp and pull back for a moment so as not to come, that energy starting to shoot up his spine, his reining it in, my breath catching to help, even though I want, too, to keep moving, to feel him come, to push him over the edge, which I so love doing, even as I pray that this fucking *never* stops. Every time he pulls back from the brink, I feel his love of this, and of me. His cock, his hands, his lips, his tongue, every inch of him mine in this moment, his spirit and his energy, too, locked together in lust and love, a circuit of two complete, and yet our circuit locked into other circuits, too, a feedback loop of energy and desire that forms in sexual situations with strangers.
He found a spot where he’d bruised me the other night, a large, purple thumbprint on my breast, and he showed me. *Yes, lover … mark me. I am yours … Hurt me just a little so that I can remember this tomorrow … devour me until there’s nothing left …*
Here I am, almost 43 years old, and sex still feels new to me. I hope that I never lose that. The beauty of this connection! Sex with Jonah continues to amaze me. As I reach out to take another lover, I wonder how that connection will shift and change in subtle ways. I both want it and don’t. Which is interesting to me.
I take a breath and let go of that tiny fear.
[https://i.imgur.com/xlNFSOR.jpg](https://i.imgur.com/xlNFSOR.jpg)
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticstories/comments/9ejxww/sexy_party