The best fuck ever

Ok, I am not THAT sure this was SO over-the-top-so-fucking-amazing-no-other-fuck-tops-it, because I have had like a million more as great sessions with the very same man, but still, this is the one that tops the list of most-relived-for-the-purpose-of-masturbation – especially during those long days & weeks when said man was not present and masturbation was all there was…
As said man is no longer going to be present in my life at all, I guess I should just write it all out and put it out there, get done with it and move on. I don’t need masturbation material as much for now anyway, as I am getting my action in the company of others for the time being.

But this is what made me enter a long distance relationship to begin with. An idea I would have objected to most strongly before I did – I need my sex a lot more frequent than LDRs allow. He wanted monogamy, and that made me doubt even more if I could make it. But he made me commit anyway. Right there, right then. That’s how hard I fell. That’s how great he was in bed. (That is, too, how great he is as a person, but that part I do not want to think about, not for now, not ever again, so that part, I leave out of this on purpose.)

I met him in his home state, but not his home town. A bigger city, a city I actually like. A liberal city, a walking city, a coastal city, a city in which tolerance is more than just a word and people are living their lives the way they want to. Quite a lot like NYC, come to think of it. Just with a more relaxed vibe, which is, of course, what makes this place such a great place for a vacation. That was why I was there - a weeklong vacation by my lonesome. I deserved it, having worked hard for a long long time before it. (And yes, I do vacations by my lonesome, and I don't find it sad for a second. Most of my girlfriends are married or in relationships, and I’d rather travel alone than not travel at all. I am fiercely independent and I sometimes have even more fun by myself than I have with my friends – mostly, I suspect, because I never stay alone for long however alone I travel.) This particular week in that particular city I enjoyed myself immensely. And then, one of the last days, I met him.

I was in a bar, sometime afternoon, happy hour time. It felt like a happy hour, too. I had eaten this great amazing lunch and couldn’t keep from smiling from the memory of all those fresh, full tastes in my mouth. I drank my drink slowly not to wash all those tastes away. This was a great bar. Downstairs, a long counter where people bought their drinks and could hang, but not sit. Upstairs, a mezzanine with a lounge, people sitting on oversized couches talking. I was, like I said, alone. So I didn’t sit down, just stood by the edge of that mezzanine, overlooking the bar. I was watching the bar and the people downstairs, sipping my drink, when he came walking up the stairs. I saw him immediately. Handsome, I thought. ”That man is a fine man”. He, watching his hands full of drinks, for himself and his table, didn’t look up at first. He was halfway up the stairs before he did. He saw me too, and that second, something happened. I don’t really want to admit to this – I don’t believe in love at first sight, I think it’s just an excuse for those too shy to admit to lust at first sight – but that very same second I went from thinking ”that man is fine” to thinking ”that man is mine”.

Just a few hours later, he was. He came straight towards me from those stairs, not even bothering to put down those drinks at the table with his friends first. He put them down right beside me at the floor, giving me his hand and introducing himself. He asked if I were alone and if I wanted to join them. I said yes to both, and we spent the next couple of hours talking. I don’t want to say anything about what we talked about or how it felt – it goes with that ”rather not think about how great he is, I want to move on” theme. But I have no problem telling you that I took him to my hotel that very night. Early in the night, after having embarrassed ourselves by making out heavily in that bar, so eagerly needy we forgot where we were or that we were not alone until one of his friends tapped my shoulder suggesting we should move on to someplace else before moving on to something else. We left that very minute, my man hurrying me down the street, even offering to carry me – my heels kept getting stuck between the cobblestones and I couldn’t keep the pace he wanted. We were only a five minute walk from my hotel, but it still took us a good 15 minutes to get there, because we had to stop underway, kissing and touching and coming close to fucking on a bridge, until we remembered where we were going and that we should move on.

He let go of my hand when we entered the hotel reception, following one polite little step behind me into the elevator. In it, he jumped me, wildly dragging my top down, licking my breasts. I still have no idea if that elevator was supervised by cameras, but neither of us bothered. I had my top around my midriff, his hand inside my pants and his mouth around one nipple when the elevator doors opened, only some seven-eight paces from my hotel room door. He opened the zipper of my pants as I unlocked the door, before we both fell directly onto the bed, me kicking the door into lock as he dragged the rest of my clothes off. He didn’t take the time to undress himself, just opened his pants and pulled them down with his boxers before entering me. The perfect cock, hard pressure, a piece of his shirt hanging on to it and inside of me. We both came within a minute or two. Laughing, we continued the undressing, moving on to slower caresses, me licking those fabulous chest muscles of his, before he went down on me, giving me another kind of orgasm than the one I just had. As I started moaning, he was ready for another go, too. And that was when it really started.

He fucked me for hours. He stayed hard for hours. Of course, he came, too, several times. Once, after I had come so strongly he had no chance to pull out of me, me shivering so hard, my thighs around his back, he wouldn’t have made it without ruining his back. He is a strong man, a very strong man, but I am a lot stronger than I look, too, and when I have that particular kind of orgasm – I call them my earthquake orgasms, though I suspect they have some kind of medical name including the term ”womb”, as they go from it and all the way through my body – I become a whole lot stronger than you would deem possible. Whenever that happens, it’s beyond me, some force just takes over my body. Besides, what man would want to pull out, when a woman shivers and squeezes him like that, so uncontrollably animalistic? I don’t come like that every single time, but when I do, there is no man in the world who can resist it. This one came hard, too, emptying himself inside of me, against what we had agreed on. Afterwards he said he didn’t know if he should apologize or thank me for it. He came a great deal more times after that. On my stomach. In my mouth. On my back and over my ass. Inside me, too, we figured if anything could happen, it already had. But mostly he just let me come, holding himself back, enjoying the looks and sounds and smells of my pleasure, teasing me to come yet another time and yet another. I think he fucked me a total of eight to twelve times that night. I can’t tell for sure, that whole night seems like one continual fuck when I think of it.

But there is one fuck I’m never forgetting, and that, too, happened that night. There was that one time surpassing what I imagined possible until it actually happened. That was him fucking me while I was hanging midair, held over one of his arms. He had started it by doing me doggy-style. It didn’t work that well. We were both kneeling on the bed. He is a tall man, I am a petite woman. We were both standing on our knees on the same mattress, the same height, and my legs were spread a bit too wide and his a bit too gathered. I do yoga, I do lots of yoga and I am good at yoga, but I had to stretch beyond comfortable even for me, to keep that position up. I told him I wanted to put a pillow or two under my knees to enjoy it more, or I’d have to switch positions. He replied by standing up on his knees, lifting me, one arm between my breasts, elbow by my midriff, the other arm supporting himself against the wall. All erect. He didn’t skip a beat. And he was able to fuck me even deeper than he had in that standard doggy position. I was hanging in the air, my whole body horizontal, my legs behind him and my upper body in front of him. I had no control at all. I just had to keep breathing, trying to balance, and otherwise give it all up to him, trusting him to hold on to me, trusting him to keep fucking me and keep himself from slipping. And, as I said, he didn’t skip a beat. That orgasm was mind-blowing. I’ve never felt so strong or so vulnerable, so much in control and so much without it at the same time. We both fell down to the bed after it, his come all over my ass and my back, him stroking both ours sweat off me and me telling him exactly how awesome I thought he was. Laughingly, he said he already knew, and that he’d often imagined, but never tried doing that thing with another woman. ”We’re awesome”, he said, kissing me in a way that told me he was, even after this, close to being able to give it another go.

We spent the rest of my vacation together. During it, I agreed to give monogamy a shot. I fell in love, and I figured there could be no other man like this in the world.

I would like someone, someday, to prove me wrong.