The attic is by far the most uncomfortable room to choose from right now, as the temperature outside soars close to 90. But comfort has little to do with why I am up here. Summer is coming, baby. Maybe it will stay until Friday. I think of you. I think this.
My years of hot yoga return to me as I rediscover the flexibility possible in this sort of atmosphere. The dreamy vague nausea hits me as I walk up. A moment of embarrassment at the mess that is even worse than downstairs. A moment of forgetting about the mess when you stay behind me on the stairs and let your hand push my skirt up, your fingers quickly running beneath my panties.
“You are rather wet today.”
I moan a little as you trace my labia. I squirm so that you will touch my clitoris, and you remove your hand abruptly and pat my butt.
“Do you think we can bear the heat?” I ask, greeting the most intense heat as we go higher.
“I think”–you hesitate–“that we can make even more heat if we try”–you pull my blouse off my neck–“the least”–you lightly kiss my neck–“little bit.”
I feel faint, giddy, as I often do when you begin to kiss me like that. But I fall limp as you stand behind me and reach around to grasp my nipples hard harder not stopping–longer than I can usually stand it. The heat has loosened me. I am yours now. Sweat drips as I finish unbuttoning my blouse and push it off my shoulders, as you pull your t-shirt over your head and unbutton your shorts, as I let my skirt fall to the ground. You walk toward me.
“No, wait.” I walk to the corner and roll a therapy ball onto to the white rug.
“Are we doing exercises?” you joke.
I lie on the ball leaning backward and reaching my arms to the ground behind me. “A little stretch first.”
You pull my legs back down to the ground and yank at my panties, lifting my hips so that you can get them off.
“Balance now. Stay like that,” and you push my lips apart and push two fingers into my cunt. You sit on the ground between my legs. I see you upside down in the mirror behind me, see you licking your fingers as you pull them out of my pussy.
“What flavor is it today?” I joke.
“Mmm. I would say that it is exactly the right flavor.”
What I want right now is for you to keep fingering me as you let your tongue tease my clit. You seem about to do that, but then seem to think of something brilliant, and take off your own underwear. You reach over me and beneath my back to unhook my bra.
“I want you completely naked when you sweat.”
I am sweating.
“I want to feel our bodies sweating together like pigs, fucking,” and you kneel and thrust your cock hard into me as I roll back onto my hands. I think I might fall off the ball, and my legs are dangling. I want to put them somewhere to steady myself, but you are banging me too hard, and I feel a little sick from the heat and from the blood rushing to my head and to my cunt.
“You like being fucked like a pig, don’t you?” you are bright red now, sweating more than I am, and I am about to come.
I cannot even speak as you slam into me relentlessly. I am thinking that in terms of balancing on therapy balls, pigs have the disadvantage of hooves and not feet, but that they probably are equally slippery. I think you will come–any ordinary man would have long ago–but you keep pounding me, and I hold back, now spreading my legs wider and wrapping them around your hips. Can pigs do that?
“You are such a good fuck,” you say as you finally touch my clit, banging me now deeper than before. A chill runs through my body, then shaking. Is it a heat stroke? But no, no. Oh god yes yes. I feel my cunt grabbing onto your cock, still hard, but shaking. I am shaking and you are telling me how loud I am, but I don’t know it.
I am sure you have come, but your cock is still hard when you pull out of me, and you are still pushing me higher.
“Oh, what were you doing?”
“Bringing you to an earth-shattering climax, I believe,” you laugh as I roll off of the ball and grab your cock.
“What are we going to do about this?” I ask, laughing. You push my head down, and I take your cock deep into my throat–in, out– many times. Then I stop.
“Sit on the ball.” As you follow my orders, I swing my legs around to straddle you, teasing your cock with the heat of my pussy.
“You are so wet,” you plead to me pushing my hips down. I lower them a little, letting you enter me a little, then pull out.
I love it when you beg, but it happens so rarely. I love it when you want me and cannot quite have me, when you are desperate and want to fuck me hard. You have been fucking me hard and holding back, and now I know you want to keep fucking me so you can come. My cunt swells, hungry all the more after the first climax. You always say I become wild after you make me come the first time, but I am barely conscious now, drunk in the heat and the sweat and the power of your desire for me.
My pussy is dripping–everywhere is dripping. I tease you more, feeling myself near orgasm just at the expression on your face when you think I am going to let you in. I tease again, circle my hips a little a little.. down. You grab my hips and hold them tight, bouncing the ball hard so that you can fuck me at last. Your cock hits hard against my cervix, deeper than before.
“Oh.. fuck…” I am going to climax again. You are still hard and growing, I think, and you are digging your fingernails into my buttocks, then pulling my cheeks apart as you push my hips down on the up bounce.
“I am about to come,” you tell me, as you slow your movements for a moment. “But next time, I want to fuck your ass like this,” you growl, and bounce the ball harder, letting me bounce freely now–I have no choice–as you grab my nipples and hold me by them. It hurts–it will hurt a lot later–but I hardly care, and I hold your waist for support, looking into your wild eyes, feeling the lust in them, feeling you thrust one time deeper, pinching me hard enough that I cry as you do it, as I feel your come shoot into my cunt, as I feel myself shaking and exhausted, throbbing. Your come runs out onto my legs, wetter still, and I look at you. Tears, sweat, come.. we are leaking everywhere, and I am afraid we will pass out, though I like your cock inside me now. I stay, rock my hips to feel your softer cock inside of me now, but you can no longer sit, and fall onto the rug below us.
You look at me. I look at you. We look like boiled lobsters.
“Oh, it is a bit hot up here, isn’t it?” you remark.
“I do have air conditioning downstairs, after all.” And I stand up, walk toward the stairs. You follow, your fingers in my hair as we make our way to my much cooler and darker bedroom.
“Hi guys. Am I late?” A woman lies on the bed. She is naked, lying on her front.
Oh Dragonfly! Naughty Dragonfly. You forgot we were expecting company!