In Which Various Verbs Happen to Me

Hey, can I booty call you?

This instant message had appeared on my computer screen the previous Saturday night, and it was from Big Jake. We’d had sex a few weeks previously at a party at which I got so unbelievably drunk — Suffice it to say I had sex with Jake, and I was sorry I was not sober enough to enjoy it (or, who knows, not enjoy it). This was just before Christmas, and of late we’d been in touch.

On Saturday night I was tired and already in my pajamas, so I declined. But when he emailed me Monday and asked what I was doing on Tuesday night, I told him to consider himself booked.

We met at this Mexican place right near me. I had walked past it literally dozens of times and had never noticed it! Anyway, we had dinner and gossiped. On the way back to my place we stopped off to buy condoms, because though I had some, Jake needed Magnums!

Back at my place we settled on my bed. We were both dressed. We talked about nothing in particular, and slowly his hand slid towards my arm, and my foot nestled against his leg. I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—kiss him, I wanted to be the one kissed. Jake appeared to have no problem just sitting around chatting, though his hands did stray towards my thigh. When I managed to finally lean my torso against his, I explained, “This is about as bold as I get.”

We started to kiss and, still fully clothed, we strained towards one another… oh, who am I kidding? We were dry humping. Rubbing ourselves against one another, my corduroy against his jeans. My rayon blend against his cotton. I was really turned on (by the humping, not the fabrics).

Our shirts came off and I dove into his skin, trying to decipher and claim his smell. “Be sure to tell me what you like,” I murmured as I trailed my mouth across his chest.

“You can bite my nipples,” he volunteered. I obliged. “Harder.” I bit so hard I was afraid I’d break the skin, but he just moaned. I liked that. I smiled into his skin and latched my teeth to his nipples, again.

Eventually we were naked and Jake went right for my pussy, his tongue slipping across my clit. How can I say this? It was Big Oral Sex. I can’t describe it, except to say his tongue seemed to cover all of my pussy at once, it was like being washed. I came, and when I’d caught my breath Jake bent over me once again and, with a finger slick inside me, made me orgasm a second time.

I felt completely drained, and he hadn’t even penetrated me. I didn’t think I could manage another orgasm. I decided to go down on him.

Big Jake is, of course, Big. His dick is as long as Daniel’s but thicker, and when we’d fucked that night some weeks back, it had hurt a bit, having him inside me (not to mention that he’s a really pounding kind of fucker—a relentless, solid thrumming). Afterwards, I’d been very sore. Not to mention that my lower lip was actually swollen and bruised from sucking him so much. Yes. All in all, not my finest hour.

I just stared at his dick for a bit, then attempted to suck him. I couldn’t get much of him into my mouth, and my tongue and the insides of my cheeks were dry; he hadn’t produced any pre cum.

But soon enough he put me on my back and opened my legs. “Go slow!” I ordered, the memory of being sort of bludgeoned by his cock still fresh in my mind.

“Don’t worry,” said Big Jake—I guess he’s heard that before. And then he very slowly slid inside me, and I relaxed my pussy as much as I could, my legs stretched around his back. It still felt pretty big. Once he was in me he started thrusting. It was a kind of painful pleasure, feeling him sliiiiiiiiide in and out. And as he was fucking I thought, He’s attentive and polite, but I can’t imagine cuddling. I wasn’t at ease.

This surprised me, because previously I’d always found Jake very engaging. He’s sort of wholesome looking, with close-cropped hair and a good-natured face, and a big, solid body. He looks like someone who’d be glad to help you move your heavy furniture. Anyway, prior to fucking him some weeks previously, he’d always been friendly when we’d run into each other. But in my bed, that warmth was absent. I wondered about this. Callie speaks highly of Jake, and makes him sound like a total sweetheart. But I wasn't getting that vibe from him tonight.

He put my legs close together so that I could feel his cock rub against my thighs while he fucked me shallowly. He held my hands above my head, which I would have loved if the pummeling his dick was giving me wasn’t quite so athletic.

“Do you want to get on top?” he asked. I nodded. He pulled out, and I clambered up. I breathed deeply, and slowly sat down on his dick. I started riding him and he (like every other guy I’ve fucked) immediately started rocking beneath me. “Let me do the work,” I croaked. This sort of worked, but for some reason I was incapable telling him the rest of the things that make me come: Talk dirty. Lick my nipples.

But he sucked my nipples, and made an effort not to buck beneath me. “I love being inside you,” he rasped. My legs were trembling, and I realized that they’d been trembling for what seemed like ages. I was close to orgasm, but I didn’t think my muscles had it in me to come again. And then I had to stop, I was just worn out.

Jake put me on all fours (a position that’s usually uncomfortable for me) but he was thrusting faster and faster and I could tell he was about to come, so I didn’t mind—I wanted to see (and feel) him come. He pulled my hair. “Ow! Not my hair!” Seriously, that’s painful.

“Sorry!”

I like the idea of being on all fours more than I like the mechanics. I love the thought of being in such a submissive, animal-like position, but (again, I think this is because of my tipped uterus), it just doesn’t feel comfortable. Jake breathed in my ear.

I turned my head: “You going to come?”

“Hmmmp!”

“Yeah, I want you to come inside me,” I gasped between thrusts. “Come for me, Jake.” He gripped my shoulders tight and his body jerked against mine. I felt satisfied, like I’d achieved something.

**
Afterwards we lay next to one another, and he stroked my hair. I wondered if it felt strange to him, because it felt strange to me. I mean, I like having my hair stroked, but it feels intimate, and tender, and that was one thing Jake was not. At least not tonight. We chatted in a desultory manner for a few minutes, then he said, “Want to sit on my face?” Sort of casually, like, Want a Coke?

“I don’t think I can take it,” I admitted. But shortly thereafter I went down on him again. I bent over and licked the length of him, bringing my eyes up to meet his “Oh,” said Jake, “I like to see you like this.” Ooooh, that’s the kind of thing I like to hear. I went at him more eagerly, and I think he called me a “good slut” (always welcome) then he sat up, “I want to fuck you again.”

“OK!”

Jake fit on another condom and briskly pushed inside me. He wrapped my ankles around his neck, and kissed my ankle. I liked the ankle kissing (how come Dean never did that?) but with his dick, I just could not have him that deep inside. “Ow!” I gulped. “That’s not—” So I slid my legs down to Jake’s waist. He kept pounding me with his cock. The pain was close to pleasure, but alas, not as close as I would have liked. My head banged against the headboard, and I hoped my neighbor wasn’t home.

I whipped my head back and forth, like I was struggling to get away, and then Jake pinned my arms down, which soothed me a bit. I could feel my face twist into a strange grimace. “Oh, you’re so hot,” said Jake. Then, “I’m going to come.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, “Yeah.” Jake’s face was screwed up and it was the only time I’d seen him out of control. I felt warmly towards him then, and when he came hard in my arms I stroked his back and murmured his name.