*A continued account of the last time I had sex.*
We sat together on the couch, her strap on discarded and my head resting on her chest as I took in deep breaths and recovered. “That was so fucking good. I came so hard -”
“I couldn’t tell.” She cut me off with the sarcasm, deadpan, and I rolled my eyes at her. She grinned.
“I really liked when you rubbed my wetness on my face, like, that one was more inventive. It felt really degrading.” That one was spontaneous. She knows me, knows my boundaries and wouldn’t do anything to cross them, but I wasn’t expecting that one or how hot it would be.
“It’s still kinda…” she gestured broadly but I understood.
“I know.”
She leaned in and kissed my cheek, and then I felt her tongue on my skin as she licked me.
“Can you taste it?”
“Not really.”
“So now my face is really wet.”
She took the sleeve of her T-shirt and wiped my face off. For something so improvised, seemingly careless, she was so gentle.