They Probably Think I Am an Escort
“They probably think I am an escort,” she said. “What?” “Well, you know, it’s evident I am younger than you and the way I am dressed.”
But the second thrust was harder, deeper, fuller
But the second thrust was harder, deeper, fuller. She let go of some animal sound. He thrust again, once, harder. And a fourth time. He slowly sped up like an old train slowly increasing its speed. He felt his dick getting harder with every thrust. He kept hold of her hips. He went faster and faster as if he wanted to destroy her ass. She slapped it hard, twice, enjoying the loudness the impact made. His fingers clawed at her hips so he wouldn’t lose momentum. He was afraid he would live her marks; soon after he hoped he would. He moved as if he wanted to penetrate all of her with his own self. His groin was a fire, a mess of heat, movement and desire. He closed his eyes to hear her soft moans. Then he opened them again and slapped her ass again. Then he took hold of her shoulders and tried to get in even further at exhausting speed, as if pleasure hid in velocity. Then he took hold of her thighs, hard, feeling the depth of meat. And then he heard her saying stop and he did. You are killing me, she said, with a wise giggle. He got out of her, apologising. He was a bit disappointed, but he understood and hoped she would be ready again soon. She turned around instead, still with a strange smile and pushed him down on the bed. She took hold of his dick with one hand and then kissed its point. Once, twice. He felt his entire body vibrate at every touch. He closed his eyes and felt her lips open and surround him, as if wanting to devour him. But the lips stopped and tiny teeth bit at it. It felt like a shot through his body, as if she had touched some nerve he didn’t know he had. Then in a swift move her lips reached the base of his dick and he disappeared. He was somewhere wet and deep and alive. Her tongue was exploring him and he felt he had nothing to hide. She knew what she was doing, which meant he was free not to be doing anything. He realised that the beauty of a blowjob was in letting go, in the pure freedom of not doing anything, not to be anything but pure feeling. She was holding him with her hand and going up and down with her mouth. Her tongue working in ways he could not begin to understand. Without knowing why he opened his eyes and saw her brown eyes staring at him. This somehow made him feel exposed and he liked it, because she knew what she was doing. He was moved and he started to stroke her hair, kindly. She went back to what she was doing and he kept stroking her head because it made him feel good, grateful. Then he took hold of her skull through her hair to add some pressure, but only lightly, as if to see whether it was okay or not. She didn’t seem to notice, so he added more pressure and followed her movement, trying to making it faster because pleasure seemed to be in velocity. Faster, he whispered or so he thought, unsure whether she had heard. But her head moved faster and he felt he was close, oh so close. But it wasn’t fast enough. He put both hands on her head and pushed her faster, harder. He felt he was fucking her mouth and maybe it was bad, but he loved it. He made a choking sound so he stopped. She took his dick out of her mouth. Don’t stop, I liked it, I like how you hold my head down. The look in her eyes almost made him come. She went down again and his hands on her skull he pushed harder and faster, starting to enjoy the choking sound that came now and then. He was so close now that his legs felt paralysed. He tried to move the hips upwards too, to meet his hands. Her lips and her brown eyes the only things between him and orgasm. He felt something rising through his dick, hot like frozen mercury. He came, grunting hard, his entire body shaking, her mouth sucking every last drop of his soul.
He pulled her head off her dick and kissed her hard
He pulled her head off her dick and kissed her hard. Their teeth clashed for a moment, but neither of them cared. They were rough to each other, but that’s what they wanted. She took his trousers off. He hand only his underwear on; she was wearing her see-through body. He motioned her to the bed. They weren’t really talking. There was no time. She was lying on the bed now. He said something about what she was wearing. She smiled and sighed. He thought he had said the right thing. But soon it didn’t matter because he took everything off her. She did the same to him. Sweet revenge. They were two naked things now. He fingered her with his middle finger at first, exploring, while sucking at her nipple, biting her boob: eating her. She moaned softly, almost in contrast with his efforts. She was so open and wet that he added his index finger to his middle hooked both of them and moved them up and down, teasing her soft tissues. Her insides were biting at his fingers, but they were soft and hard in waves. She kept moving around, he lost her nipple for a second so moved back up to her mouth, her neck, her face. He moaned softly for a long time. He kissed her down her neck, her chest, squeezing both boobs with his hands, kissed her belly… here she stopped him, saying something about her fat. He just looked at her uncomprehending and then went back down on her, kissing her pussy and then sucking her lips and then licking her clitoris while holding her big ass. She licked loudly as if hearing what he was doing would make it more real, as if he wanted his head to meet his hands on her ass, as if he wanted to wash his face in her juices. They idea made him even more wild and mad. She seemed able to take anything. She moved like crazy so he had to hold on her ass hard. She stopped him, she was breathing heavily. She said she needed a moment. He wiped his chin of her. He smiled at her, because it was okay. He kissed her belly and then he kissed her. She smiled at him and told him she wanted him inside her. He had never put a condom on so fast, for this reason he checked twice everything was okay. She laughed a bit. In the meantime she was playing with her clitoris, keeping warm. He entered her looking into her eyes. She was so open he found no resistance. And after that he could only thrust and thrust. And after that he could only thrust and thrust. He felt a fire inside. And the more he saw her enjoying it the brighter the fire. He could not even feel himself breathing. He stopped, he kissed her again, to remind her they were both there and they were both humans, and that everything was okay. Her experience didn’t matter anymore now, they had met, they were together. He turned her around and raised her ass. He had wanted to do it for so long. How could she call fat something so beautiful and full of promise. He kissed it, he bit it, he slapped it, he licked it as if to apologise and mend the slap. Slowly, gracefully, he inserted his dick inside her pussy from behind as if inside something sacred. He took hold of her hips, for balance, yes, but more to hold onto something beautiful. His first thrust was slow, because he wanted to feel it up to the base of his dick. But the second…
It took them so long to get there that now he could only thrust and thrust
It took them so long to get there that now he could only thrust and thrust. She didn’t seem to mind, on the contrary, she literally seemed to be gone somewhere else. He felt his dick had disappeared to in another world, her secret world. He had been taken by a frenzy and his hips could only move and move. He felt the electricity throughout his body, an incredible need that knew came from the hours they had spent together without touching. He had made her dinner, nothing too complicated. They ate together and talked a bit. Every time he moved a bit closer to her on the sofa she moved back, almost shy, or guilty. He decided to put a film on. He knew that films distracted him because he had to watch a film if a film was on. That would have helped him cool down. If it wasn’t going to happen it wasn’t going to happen. Amen. But during the film he tried the old-fashioned approach of the arm on the sofa behind her head. And then without realising he was playing with her hair. They were soft and hard at the same time, like smooth wire. She didn’t push his hand away nor did she move away. But she didn’t even come closer. He knew he was running out of time, because she had to go home before her fiancé got back from work. The thought filled him now with guilt so he took his hand away. But five minutes later he was back at it. This time he explored the neck behind her short hair. It was strong and full. Something you’d hold for support in the heated movements of sex. But he had to take that thought off his mind because she didn’t seem to want to be in that room. Or maybe were only his insecurities to talk. She was a woman of experience, after all, he didn’t know much. The film ended and they started to talk some more. Desperate he asked her what was going on. He thought they had an understanding, had he been mistaken? She said she didn’t know what was going on. She wanted it, but she didn’t know what to do. He held her, gently. He approached slowly to make sure it was okay, and then he held her. She held him back. He dared to lift her head with one hand, look into her eyes and then kiss her. And then it was as if she was another person: her tongued took his and they danced, she was taken by her dance and could only play a supporting role. Her hands were everywhere. So he grabbed her breast hard and loved the feeling of his hand grabbing something soft. She took his shirt off, he took her shirt off. She was wearing a black see-through. He felt so hard he just wanted her to touch him. As if reading his mind, her hand took his dick, hard, grabbed at it fiercely, like the woman he thought she was. Her hand knew what she was doing, his dick begged for more of her small hand going up and then. He pulled her trousers off, he grabbed her big ass with one hand and despaired that his hand wasn’t enough. And in a moment she was sucking his dick as if it was the last thing in the world she was going to do. This is experience, he thought, this is what it means to know what to do. He closed his eyes to feel more the sounds and the sucking and the games of her tongue.
It had started as a joke
It had started as a joke. A small teasing here and there at work. It was really a work teasing as she was engaged and, she always liked to remind him, older. In its way it was it was innocent because there was no reality to it. They met a few times outside work but they mostly talked about her family and his failure at getting out of being single. But then she started to have problems at home, the flirting got heavier and almost serious. Her partner didn’t seem any more interested in her. They hadn’t had sex in months. The younger man knew everything about not having had sex in months. But he didn’t make that joke, because it wouldn’t have been funny for her. He was very bad at seeing women interested in him, but now he could see temptation in her eyes and he was worried, because he liked it. But he wasn’t a family breaker. No matter how much her future looks already broken. The flirting reached the point she was afraid to meet him because she didn’t know what would happen. Even meeting for a coffee seemed like cheating. It didn’t matter that temptation happens out of unhappiness. The flirting reached the point that without thinking or maybe actually aware of what he was saying, he said that it wasn’t even cheating since there was no sex between them. He felt guilt, but not as much as he should have. It was a text, so he didn’t know how she had reacted. Not until the next day. He was almost afraid of seeing her, maybe he had said too much. But when he saw her he knew he hadn’t said enough. He invited her for dinner, or maybe she invited herself, it wasn’t very clear. The day before the dinner he received a photo from her. He had never received these sorts of photos. She was lying on a bed, wearing only tights and her legs up to the ceiling. But he guessed some of this as all he could say was her big round as, her lips and the back of her legs, almost as if she was sitting on his face. Her short legs were cute, but they it was her ass and her lips that took him by surprise. He didn’t know what he would find when he opened it. He didn’t know what to do with it, he was at work, his phone felt on fire. He was so stiff that he thought someone would notice. He disappeared for a few seconds. He checked his phone again, she was asking him what he thought of the photo. He imagined it took her some time to take that photo, not only because she had to do it in secret, but because she always complained that her body was old, it wasn’t what it used to be while he was younger. And yet, she had opened herself to him like that. It must have taken her courage. But he was honest, he said he felt awkward, it was the first time, he didn’t expect him. Thank God, she messaged, it felt so awkward for her too, let’s not do this again. He didn’t know whether he had upset her or not. But no one had even mentioned cancelling the dinner for the following night. On the contrary, he thought it meant that she was finally ready for him, that she would give herself to him. they had known each other for years, just as colleagues, then friends and now, maybe, just maybe, lovers.
I don’t know why I am writing, but I have to tell someone and I cannot tell anyone. I found this notebook at the same time as $20.000 appeared in my bank account. Literally, I’ve picked this notebook from the pavement where I found it and my phoned chimed, I’ve received a payment. It cannot be a coincidence, it cannot, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do with this damn black notebook. I can only write.
Netflix’ "The Social Dilemma" & Free Will
One of the most complex enquires in the history of philosophy is certainly free will. In general terms, free will means that our will is free; that we act of our own will; that we generate actions with intention. I am writing this short article because I want to: I am buying that chocolate because I want to; I am on my phone because I am in control.
The deeper I thrust the more I am lost to myself
The deeper I thrust the more I am lost to myself. I felt a connection to my body that only these moments reveal. And I could feel her body, the temptation of oblivion in her face, the waves of tension and relaxation in her belly, the impossible paralysis that blocked her neck and released it like a bow releasing an arrow (my teeth sank in her neck and her shoulders as if to find that old softness), her hands who didn’t know what to do and kept invading my body wherever they could reach, her legs now struck in a vibration like a single chord of violin eternally played. My body was now was focused on the movement of my hips seeking a rhythm, a music that may resonate with the both of us. In every thrust I could feel her inside, I wanted to feel it with my tip, but I was strangely afraid of hurting her, because I was always afraid that she was someone that could be hurt. I didn’t feel an intruder any longer inside her. It wasn’t a new environment now, I knew its heat (and yet I could not have been any more naked), I knew its walls because they kept touching me, teasing me, talking to me. That was a conversation neither of us could understand, a completely Other language, and yet we both felt it and wanted more because we felt it down to our hearts. I was thrusting towards that impossibility that is the sharing of two lives. I felt her impossibly and the fact that there was no other language between us in that moment meant that that was the closest I would ever feel to a communion. Her fingers found what I could not even hope they would find. She thrust a finger in my asshole like a surprise. Her nail bit in the sensitive skin, but after a few seconds I did not care, pleasure was the only feeling. The deeper I thrusted the more she pushed inside me. I was losing more and more of myself, I was enclosed in the space between my hips, an energy growing inside, that was taking control of my limbs. I wanted more, so I took hold of her buttocks to close the distance between us beyond what our bodies allowed. I wanted to go deeper, know this stranger better thrust after thrust. My hand on her ass is the closest embrace. I don’t want to let go but they energy out of control of my own hips made me lose balance for a moment so one hand landed by the side of her head. I looked at her and she was the most beautiful thing in the world. I kissed her desperately because I wanted this moment never to end. My tongue mirrored the movements of my dick, a synchronised dance without choreography. I felt everything down there, my dick dictating my emotions. The energy was building at its base expanding to touch her finger in my ass, she must have felt that energy too because she started tensing, her locked legs wanting me out. So I pushed faster, deeper, unable now to even distinguish the thrusts. Her womb closing on me, her lips tightening, her legs in a mad dance, her ass as if trying to escape the one hand I had, grabbing it hard. My head between my lips I felt myself burning, electricity up and down up and down the shaft of my dick, telling me my efforts were going to be rewarding, telling me of happiness. She had a silent spasm of orgasm that trapped me and freed me because in a last thrust I let go of everything, even of these words, and I came.