“So you are saying that I either need to leave in five minutes or wait another half hour?”

“Well, you could stay even longer, just as long as I can manage to…”

Yes, of course the doorbell rings then, and of course we are naked and still in bed.

I obviously have not quite mastered the art of timing these delicious sexual encounters around the busy stuff of life, but I do know that having you wander out into the hall with no clothes on would probably create a good deal of confusion, considering that my teenage son has not met you.

Of course, it is not my son at the door. It is his therapist, who has arrived early and is talkative. I kick your shoes away from the door and open it. The therapist does talk, talks about my son and the weather and the world and the plans for the day, which to my relief, involve leaving with my son as soon as the bus arrives. And it does arrive, and my son is tired, annoyed, but then pleased to go out. To my surprise, they head upstairs to fetch the hard drive out of a computer. I go up after them them, apologize–“.. just in the middle of a project.”–shut the door to my son’s bedroom and sneak back in to whisper and giggle with you like a teenager myself, then out again as I hear them on the stairs, then down, goodbye. Off they go. I fly back up, at last, at last..


Yes, I am still laughing about it, laughing about finding you lying on my bed, now fully clothed, reading Just-So Stories, or Women In Love, or the Italian cookbook that were all sitting on the nightstand that day.

“Really, I don’t mind a bit,” you smile. And I do believe you, through my frustration, and still…

You ask me where the door from my room goes, and yes, it does lead to a balcony. The other door holds yet other surprises. The possibilities are endless for these sorts of games, but no.. I did not plan this, did not expect that you would be in the corner of my bedroom laughing, nor that I would be downstairs discussing behavior plans and suggesting that my son really needs to get out of the house–he has been so stressed. And I am completely serious, would have suggested it regardless of the circumstances.. and yet…


You make me laugh. I cannot explain why I need that laughter so much, but the week has been long, difficult, fraught too much with the realities of my world that make me want to escape it. Love does linger throughout my real world–oh, I am so lucky for that–but lust lingers in ours, and I need your wanting, your spanking, your eager desire to make me come quickly right off so that you can keep me going for what feels like an eternity.

“I like to make you happy,” you say. You have just held my legs apart, admiring my panties, now wet, wetter. “Do you have a vibrator?”

I pull out the industrial strength Hitachi, and you smirk at me, “Your toys are all big.”

It is true, they are, and you tease me with that toy, with my panties, as you pull at them. The buzzing hits my labia, my thighs, everywhere except where I really want it, despite my squirming.

“So, where do you really want it?” You don’t wait for an answer before you push the vibrations down onto my clit as I squirm now to get away from the searing intensity of it. I cannot, I cannot, and I realize that I can–you have handed the vibrator to me while you are sucking my nipples, biting, yes yes yes yes.

You send me into quite a state with that vibrator–you know it, don’t you? You pull me on top of you, and smile when I pull off my panties and push your cock deep inside, riding, galloping, deeper, farther into a world that I only know like this, so rare.

And now you push me off and over, roll the condom down your hard cock, lube my ass. I did nothing to prepare for it this week–“This is where you really want it? isn’t it?”–and you squeeze in, as I feel the burn, then the release, and finally the melting thrill of it. You fuck me there, nicely, dig your fingernails into my buttocks–me, completely vulnerable and fulfilled. Yes, this is what I want. I should be spent after sitting on your cock… so hard–I still cannot quite fathom how you stay hard for so long–and you tell me you like it as you reach up to grab my breasts, tell me you like it as I grind my hips down farther onto yours, when I am in complete control, so that I decide when your cock hits me in the spot that makes me completely lose control of myself and of you and of the world.

My toy? I hardly consider you that, though I like to play with you. I like to push your buttocks apart and find you more relaxed still than last week. I push my slick fingers gently into your ass, feel you sigh and pant as I push one finger, then another, up, higher, as you get used to this, to what it is doing to you. “That’s enough…” but I do it again later when you have fucked me well, when you have held back for long enough, when you need–badly need–to come.. I lick your balls and finger you, feel your legs tense tenser, then relaxed, your body throbbing as come spills out over your hands and belly, your cock still shaking.

“This started out as a purely intellectual conversation, and now it has become purely physical, filthy screwing.”

“Well, you can still talk to me, if you like.”

So we talk. And talking is nice with you, too. I like it when we screw, when we talk. I like it when we talk about ordinary things, and then your voice becomes deep and you remind me that you can completely overpower me if you want to.. I am surprised to feel myself melt when you say this. I want you to overpower me, want you to tie me up and push me to the edge, over it, want you to do everything, if only for a few minutes of my life.

I like it when you slap my ass hard and watch me bury face in the pillow, near tears but not making you stop… only to wait a moment before you roll over onto your back. “Your turn,” you seem to say. Yes, my turn, and I want to take the reins from you, tell you filthy stories and think of how far I might take you, how I might let you let the world slide away, as well..  I think of what strange and glorious place I might take you to soon with the toy you brought today.

I wonder sometimes about this, what it means. It means splendor. It means wonder. It means I like to see you wander back into your life a bit happier, too.. dappled sunshine illuminating the color in a sometimes-grey world.

2 thoughts on “farce

  1. mfxp says:

    this is splendor.

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