Home > memories, reflection, sex > a cup of hot cider in my hand

a cup of hot cider in my hand

And my mind is wandering to the time SR knelt over my prone body, knees framing my head as he fed his cock down my throat as deep as it would go (which wasn’t very, given the position and angle of my head).  My hands gripped his ass as he slowly fucked my mouth, and between shallow breaths he muttered, “God my cock looks so good in your mouth.”

I’m sure it was a pretty nice visual.  I wish I could see what he saw that night.

I was talking with a male friend about my take on relationships and sex when he mentioned how much like a guy I am when it comes to my mindset on relationships.  I suppose it is true in a way…after all, I did tell him that one of the reasons I broke up with SR was the lack of any frequent sex in the foreseeable future.  But the major reason I broke up with him was the fact that he chose a weekend at a casino over a weekend with me.

Maybe that’s selfish of me, but it did feel rather shitty to realize that, on his priority ladder, I was a rung below poker.

And anyway, despite how much of a tomboy I act like to friends and family, I do enjoy feeling feminine and soft and girly just as much.  To me, though, there is nothing more feminine than being fucked hard and taken physically.  Seeing the lust and desire in a man’s eyes makes me weak and feel powerful at the same time, and undeniably female.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

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Categories: memories, reflection, sex
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