Everything, from word to word
Many years have passed since our breakup. I've had a boyfriend for a long time now, studies, work, my own home, but my love is in his hands. In the hands of my Andryusha. Yes, I already have a guy, but every time I have sex with him is like an ordeal. Anyone who has been in a situation where you need to forget an old love, a past life, but can't, will understand what it's like to have sex with a guy you don't love. My current boyfriend is bigger than Andrey, more uninhibited, thinks only about my satisfaction, putting himself second, but still, it's not the same...
Seven in the evening, my best friend and I are sitting in the kitchen. Her daughter has been asleep for a long time, and we're finishing a bottle of good vodka and already reaching
for the wine. A call. Andrey calls and invites me over for the night. I agree.Our eyes are as big as saucers. How is this possible? He found my number, called after so many years, and simply offered sex. To be precise, six years have passed, during which I've lost a lot of weight, grown my hair down to my waist, become prettier, and gained confidence. All this time, I periodically threw tantrums to myself, missed him, hugged the things he left behind, and drank to such a state that I couldn't even think about him, let alone remember my own last name.
I remembered our first time. How he kisses my nipples, and I blush with shame because he's the first. How he moves lower, and my modest moans turn into loud, sweet cries. How I wanted him back. Maybe I drank too much that time, but after coming and collapsing on the floor, I sobbed like a little girl. How I love him.
Remembering this story, I walked to him, floating on clouds. I walked and mentally pictured how surprised he would be, since I'm wearing nothing but black fishnet stockings. I go up to his floor and ring the doorbell. How he has changed. He's become a real man, an even more muscular body, weighing over a hundred kilos and nearly two meters tall. Huge, muscular arms, a slight belly under which you can feel a strong torso, a broad back I couldn't wrap my arms around when hugging. The strongest.
Deciding to heat things up a bit, I whispered in his ear: "Let's skip the small talk. Take me."
The strongest hands in the world were already on my face. A kiss. Only those who have been in a situation like mine will understand this amazing feeling when you kiss a person you never expected to see again, and here he is, standing right in front of you, kissing you on the lips. A hot tongue parts my lips and enters, making clear the seriousness of his intentions and all the tenderness he had stored away.
— I couldn't forget you.
— Show me.
He lifts me by the thighs, picks me up in his arms without breaking the kiss, and carries me to the bed. How could I ever live without him before?
Everything after that is like a fog. The lights are off, a nightlight is on. We take off our clothes. He is pleasantly surprised by the lack of underwear but the presence of his favorite part of my wardrobe. I am pleasantly surprised by his gorgeous body. The scars I left on him once are still there. Noticing I'm looking at his shoulders, he smiled. He immediately understood I remembered how I bit into his shoulder with my teeth and cried from the pain during my first time. At my "I'm on top," he flipped over, I sat down. I took his hot cock in my hand, guided it where it needed to go. Now I'm in control. Stretching out the moment, I slowly lower myself, moaning in a half-whisper. A second later, his hands are on my waist. A frantic rhythm and cries. He's always quiet, not a single moan, only sighs and that same unchanging expression. He loves it when I'm not shy about moaning, it turns him on even more, and I let my emotions run wild, not thinking about my appearance or facial expression. That's what he likes about me, my uninhibitedness and sincerity. He sits up, pulls me close, kisses me, and so tenderly, as if it were the first time. Before I could properly come to my senses, I was already on all fours. With a calming motion, he strokes my breasts and kisses the small of my back. I already know what this means and what to expect. Vaginal. He enters halfway, teases me, doesn't let me get closer, and a second later, he thrusts in so roughly, all the way, with all his strength. Slapping sounds, my moans, ragged breathing, and my vision is already blurring. He gives me a minute to rest.
— Are you ready?
— Be gentle.
Anal. Insanely painful. He was my first and last. Screams. I try to break free, but strong hands have already wrapped my hair around his fist. He entered all the way. If he hadn't given me a few seconds to rest, I would have died from the pain. He moves faster and faster. Spanking my ass, his unchanging fetish. Yes, yes, a fetish. Not just slaps, but blows with all his strength, and he hits until he himself decides it's time to stop this painful process. After a few seconds of such blows, he pays with tender kisses. By morning, there will be terrible bruises and welts. But I love it, I love this feeling of wild pain followed by tenderness. I love the feeling of helplessness.
He can go on like this for a long time. He can not come for hours when I'm already on my second round.
He has another fetish. The thing I love and fear him for even more. Weapons. After letting me catch my breath after an orgasm, he brings a gun. How it turns me on. He forces me to my knees and orders me to suck the barrel. In such moments, I come simply from the awareness of my weakness and the presence of something that can kill me. Pressing the barrel not to my mouth now, but to my temple:
— Now me!
— I'm not afraid. *half-whisper*
I kiss every vein on his cock. I run my tongue from the head to his balls. I adore the moment when I gently touch them with my tongue and start moving, and his breathing is already ragged. I lead my tongue to the head. Delicious. He won't let go until he comes. The gun is on the floor. I swallow.
You know what's the sexiest thing in a man for me? How he, so big and strong, looks into your eyes and smiles like a child. Smiles, followed by the sweetest kiss in gratitude.
Tenderness? Don't count on it. Hands on my shoulders. He pushes. I'm already on my back on the bed, and my legs are on his shoulders. My flexibility allows him, with my legs on his shoulders, to lie almost completely on top of me. Roughly, even with a certain cruelty, he grabs the bed and with an impassive face, enters. My heart is jumping out of my chest, everything hurts down there, my voice is gone, it hurts to lie down because of the bruises from the spanking. Even his roughness feels familiar. His eyes say "I love you," and the strength in his hands when he pulls me close says "I won't let go." My happiness breathes into my neck, one hand braces against the bed, the other lifts me and presses me to him. Deep thrusts have already changed to chaotic, fast ones. Time lost its meaning.
The best part? Coming together.
We fell onto the bed together. I don't remember falling asleep. I only remember how he pulled me close and tenderly kissed my neck.
In the morning, I just got ready, without even showering, flew out of the apartment. Taxi. The road. A week of drinking and tears.
I understand perfectly well that it's just sex. The best sex.