He wasn’t my usual type. Hell, he was smaller than me, well-built ( but not from the gym ) and very hairy.
His oral technique was thorough, eager and always provided me with an orgasm. There was something about his tongue, whether I was astride his mouth or him lapping between my legs. The memory of it makes me instantly wet now. He went at it with real gusto, like his whole purpose was to be in that moment and nothing else mattered. His stubble on my cunt lips, his tongue stabbing my clit, my fingers grasping his head pulling him closer to ensure climax.
He said I gave the best blow job he’d ever had. His cock was a joy: big, thick and uncut. He’d moan uncontrollably as soon as my mouth touched his head. It was never difficult to get him hard or make him cum.
With all this in mind, I anticipated our first fuck with great expectations.
How to describe?
The first couple of times I tolerated it.
He would mount me and just thrust like a bucking bronco randomly. I mean, I love being pounded to within an inch of my life, but this was all of the energy with none of the benefits.
I felt like an Edwardian wife, head turned sideways so as not to see his face struggling in concentration as he banged against me like an automaton.
(Recently I demonstrated his technique to a friend on the sofa. Banged my shin against the wooden frame and collapsed in laughter and pain. Karma indeed.)
Now, I had to say something.
But, awkward, no? As he drove into me again I whispered into his ear ‘Slow it down’. He bucked and pulled up. ‘No, slower’ I repeated. ‘Mnnnghhhh’ and he settled into a much less frenetic rhythm. Started varying the thrusts. Became more confident. Learned to delay his own pleasure and enjoy watching mine. The sex became something to take time over, not to get out of the way.
We ended up having some really good fucking sessions. He loved it when I got on top, but always liked to finish doggy style, his balls slapping against my pussy. He even licked my asshole once. I’ve never been into role playing, or dominance but the balance of power shifted once I’d coached him.
He’d beg to cum on my face – the deal was ‘only if you let me cum on yours’.
I was now the teacher, the roles had been flipped. He was a very good student.