Heavy

We’ve been fucking for what feels like a while this time. I’ve sucked his dick, he’s pounded me from behind, pulling my hair and tentatively slapping my butt. I’ve sat on him and come pretty quickly – a glorious return to form. It’s hot outside and the breeze comes in through the open window. 

He’s inside me, me flat on my back, legs raised. 

“What do you want me to do?” 

I burst out laughing, I can’t stop. My brain is a fuzz of pleasure, his question amuses me. 

He continues; detailing that he could pull out, I suck him again or he could go down on me. I’m feeling lazy and don’t want to get up.

“You can come inside me” I dictate, like a member of the aristocracy.

Once the words are out of my mouth, he’s thrusting into me, grunting wonderfully. And then he’s still. 

The weight of him lying on top of me is weirdly delicious. I don’t want him to move, I’m trapped but as happy as I’ve ever been. 

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