We were together beyond all belief. We could not have known what we would be for each other ahead of time. We imagined what could be and made it happen. Not only that, our subterranean imaginations brought about an embodied, necessary, and unreserved truth.
I was a woman. He was a man. Those facts never limited us, although they did many others. I pitied them.
I was not particularly beautiful. He was not particularly handsome. We were not young and we did not envy youth. However, we were not limited by the bad habits and compromised health that often accompanies middle age. We took steps in our young adulthoods to ensure we wouldn't be walking stereotypes of midlife resignation.
But enough about what we weren't. Against most odds, we were happily experienced fuckers, gloriously unbound lust seekers, fanciful yen finders, and irrepressibly ethical sensualists.
We cuddled in the sturdy bed of our joint creation: equal parts frilly throw pillows, sports-themed bed covers, and four-poster, dark-pine solidity.
With his full permission and acceptance, my playful hands roamed easily over his tensed thighs and rigid cock. His deep, warm breath blew regularly over my smiling face. His hands alternated slowly between cupping my bare behind and fondling my excited nipples and breasts.
"I love jerking you off," I admitted.
"Why?" he asked in an erotic daze.
"I just really like dicks," I confessed. "I like the way they grow in my hands, their hard and velvety weight in my palms, their warm and salty fullness in my mouth. They just feel right to touch and taste."
"Any old dicks?" he teased.
"Of course not, silly," I replied, playfully elbowing him in the ribs as he squeezed my tits a little bit tighter. "Obviously I have to like the men they're attached to first. But once I do, there's nothing better."
"Nothing better?" he teased again.
"Well, obviously there are things that satisfy me more directly," I said, jacking him off a little bit faster. He grunted as his breath quickened. "But I like seeing and experiencing a man's unequivocal desire for me in the flesh."
"That's what I like about playing with women's pussies," he confessed.
"What do you like about touching mine?" I asked boldly.
"Well," he said, shifting himself out of my grip, spreading my legs open, and positioning his face in front of my cunt, "I like how it's almost, but not quite, the opposite of my cock. I like how it has to be discovered and explored and played with to reveal its secrets."
He began fingering my clit with familiar and practiced skill, gently rubbing the hood while teasing it with his tongue. I began to tremble and giggle with recognizable abandon. He slowly began fingering my G-spot while he explained to me how he experienced my pleasure.
"I like how it squishes and moistens when I touch it just right," he continued. "I like how you try to hold back your excitement while your trembling thighs and tummy betray you. I like how you push down on me and thrust against me, trying to drink in pleasure from the very center of you."
As he described what he was doing to me, my body responded exactly as he mentioned it would. I laughed with throaty abandon at the unvarnished truth about my hedonistic ways.
"I like that, when I get ready to fuck you," he said, gripping his dick and getting ready to mount me, "your pussy almost becomes shy and tightens up a little before I push the head of my cock past your pussy lips."
Again, my cunt did exactly that which he described. He rubbed himself back and forth along my folds, making a rapid and wet cadence.
"I like how you don't hold back when you fully accept me inside of you," he said, plunging smoothly and continuously inside of my welcoming moist cunt.
"Oh, fuck!" was all I managed to croak as he slowly thrust desire into me and out of me. I sank into the feeling of being pounded with confidence. I thrust my hips forward and back, then changed to circles and side-to-side shakes to vary the sensation.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I screamed as he groped and shook my titties. I lewdly stared into his eyes and grunted as he returned the look while angling unexpectedly inside my pussy to keep me pleasingly off balance.
As he held me down by the shoulders, I unquestionably snarled, not out of anger or fear but because his raw passion elicited deep, animal lust inside of me that needed speechless yet audible expression. I ran my hands up and down his forearms, gripping them tightly when I wanted him to fuck me harder.
"Let me get on top," I begged. We switched positions quickly and expertly.
I pressed my hands into the middle of his chest and rubbed my clit along his lower abdomen, keeping his hard cock inside of me all the while. I looked down at his mesmerized face, lightly bathed with sweat.
I got to the soles of my feet and squatted down on him. He grabbed my hips and thrust upward and back, quickly bouncing my jiggling ass against his thighs. I moaned over and over again, transported purely and proudly to an orgasmic apex. I howled over and over again, lost in my sexual delirium.
He came again and again inside of my cunt, draining himself inside of me until he couldn't give any more.
**********
Comforting and cuddling each other in our post-coital glow, we confessed things about ourselves we never told anyone else.
"That was almost religious," he said.
"Not for me," I admitted. "Our fucking is better than religion."
"What do you mean by that?" he inquired.
"I mean I've never been spiritual," I confessed. "I don't decry anyone who seeks religion as a fully consenting adult. I just personally find faith traditions to be creepy, gross, and manipulative."
He was quiet for the longest time, so I broke the silence.
"I don't mean to offend you," I continued, "but I'm pretty sure you already guessed that about me."
"I had a sense of it," he said, "but you confirmed it just now."
"Are you religious?" I asked. "I never really questioned you about this, but I'd like to know."
"I was raised Christian," he said. "However, I haven't been to church since I was a teenager."
"I don't mean to be dismissive of anyone's beliefs," I said. "But sex predates religion and is more important in human history than the forces we created to control and constrain it. If anything, religion can sometimes almost seem sexual. It's a poor approximation of human desire, however."
"I don't even know what to say about that," he said. "I think I like the way your mind works, though."
"You should," I said smiling, giving his dick a playfully light pinch. "You'll get more out of my pussy than you ever will praying."
"You are unreal," he chortled. "Un-fucking-real."
"I think I'm completely real and absolutely fuckable," I continued to tease.
"Thank you, Ms. Literal!" he retorted, gripping me in a bear hug until I gigglingly gave in.
"Wanna titty fuck?" I offered.
"Like I'm gonna say no to that," he relented.
We got out of bed and I went to the nightstand to retrieve some lube. I splashed generous amounts on my breasts, rubbing it in until they became slippery and shiny. His cock raised perceptibly to the erotic sight of my lubed titties. I got wet watching him get hard. I went over to him with the small bottle and squirted lube on his dick, working it in until it was just as shiny and slippery as my breasts.
I kneeled down and looked up into his eyes. I pressed his cock between my breasts and he rubbed between them slowly, back and forth. I am not generously endowed. But I have enough to work with for this purpose.
I pressed my breasts together so he'd have a channel to rub between. I began to get warm all over as he rubbed his hard cock more insistently between them. I pinched my sensitized nipples a little as he sped up, increasing the pleasant sensations in my tits.
"Oh, fuck," he moaned. "That feels amazing."
"Fuck my titties, baby," I encouraged him. "Keep fucking these titties. They're here for you to fuck."
As I moved my right tit down with one hand, I raised my left tit up with the other. I kept up this alternating motion until he and I were caught up in mutual lust. His cock began to twitch and harden even more.
"I think I'm gonna fucking come," he announced. "I think I'm close." He placed his hands gently on top of my head and started thrusting passionately between my titties, the head of his dick peeking out quickly and disappearing between my heated breasts.
He stopped and started jacking himself off furiously, aiming his cock at my waiting tits. I shook my tits with my hands, giving him a raunchy visual and sexy target for his come.
He started to stand on his toes and beat himself off even harder. I began to play with my pussy in response, eager for warm come to splatter all over my waiting chest. Try as he might, though, this wasn't getting him over the edge.
"Let me do it," I begged. "Please let me do it."
I replaced his hands with mine and tried jacking him off the way he did himself. My forearms got slightly sore with the effort, but I kept up the pace. I stroked his balls with one hand while the other pumped his shaft up and down, up and down.
"I don't want to come like this," he moaned. "Let me fuck your beautiful titties some more."
I pushed my titties out for him to fuck again. He slapped his dick against my nipples, sending beautiful little shockwaves of lust shooting through my breasts, down my spine and into my cunt. Now he thrust vigorously and powerfully between my tits, grinding and pressing and determined to come. I moaned and yelped, encouraging him to give me his warm essence.
As he got close, he firmly grabbed the top of my head and pounded away between my tits. I grunted with each thrust, feeling the weight of his precariously balanced body slap against me.
"Come on my fucking tits," I commanded him. "Come on my fucking tits now."
He yelped and cried a little as I said this and his hot come splashed against my forehead and cheek. The other spurts hit my shoulders and breasts, gradually pumping a little less volume as the finishing shots squirted out like a fountain slowly being turned off. He trembled and shook as his cock twitched with its last orgasmic effort.
I rubbed his salty warmth all over my face and body, honoring and delighting in every place on me where it landed.
"Look at the mess you made of me," I said in mock outrage.
"Good job," I then said, winking one eye and smiling.
**********
We rested a bit and cleaned ourselves up. We knew we were soon going to get back to fucking again, but we talked the way we had talked previously.
"You don't really go all the way during dirty talk, do you?" he asked.
"I think I do," I challenged. "I'm just not a fan of the most common nouns because I find them derivative and degrading. If there were better words for what I am, what women like me are, I'd embrace them wholeheartedly. As it stands now, they're problematic and probably always going to be so."