“Oh. My. God,” she said, her eyes wide and a little wild. “That feels…different.”
“Different…good?”
“Different fucking AMAZING!”
I tried to control my movements – tried to take it slow – but she pushed back onto me and my hips responded with jerky, trembling thrusts. There was no resistance and no pain; just the hot, tight grip of her arse around my cock, and our see-saw grunts as I pushed inside her again and again.
It didn’t last long, of course. We were both too aroused for that; our heads spinning with the joyful newness of it all, the shared, giddy excitement that comes from trying something for the first time and finding it to be both everything and nothing you expected. I came with a long, shuddering groan, and flopped down on top of her, sweat puddles squelching between us.
Later, she shook her head as she tried to describe how it felt.
“You know how sometimes, when we fuck, you finger my arse?”
“Yeah.”
“And you know that night when you used the butt plug on me, then fucked my arse with that big dildo?”
“Yeah.”
“Well it was nothing like either of those things. I could feel the throb in my cunt and my clit each time you moved inside me, and my whole body felt limp and weak, but in just the most incredible way. I don’t know: it was just…different.”
~
Years later, on another warm, spring afternoon, I find myself thinking about that difference. I have a post in the works about curiosity, though it’s been stubbornly refusing to write itself for a good two months now. I want to look at what it is that shapes and motivates our desire to explore, and to seek out new sexual experiences; or to look at what shapes and motivates my desire to do those things, at least.
Sometimes, though, it’s pretty easy to trace the link. “It was just…different,” she said, and I felt my skin prickle with the need to know more. I wanted someone to tell me, to show me, till the why and the how made my eyes go as wide and wild as hers did, that day when she looked back at me over her shoulder.
In the weeks that followed, I got hard every time I thought about it. I would lie back on my bed and push a toy inside my arse, as deep as I could, then I’d squeeze tight around it and try to imagine how a real cock might feel; how it would be different.
At some point, I’m sure I’ll find out.
4 replies on “Different”
Oh, I do like the way you put these words together.
I’ve only done it, at length, just the once, but it is really, REALLY hard to describe. The novelty and the newness of it is all mixed deliciously with the pleasure and the pain, and the tenderness with which the other person’s treating you. You’re exploring a different thing and you feel wild. And like she said, it’s so much more intense with another person rather than a toy because they’re connecting to the experience (and, er, other things) as well and they’re being turned turns YOU on and, etc.
I might have to seek out the guy who did that to me now…
This is something I’ve yet to be fully comfortable enough to try. You might have convinced me.
This post reminds me of my most memorable anal fuckings. I came from feeling the throb & pressure against my G-spot, like it was being probed from the other side.