Nights when I’m restless, she presses her palm firmly against my chest and in a low, sweet voice asks, “Do you want me to jerk you off?”

When I first met her, I didn’t know how to answer this question. I could not possibly answer it honestly. I could not say, “Yes.” The word would stick in my belly, not even making it up to my throat. My desire felt wrong, selfish.

“Baby, let me jerk you off,” she says and her body curls around me. She settles me down firmly into the bed with her hand against my sternum.

I breathe. When I could manage it, I would stay silent and keep the “no” trying to escape held tight inside me. I would nod my head. And breathe.

Her fingers find me. She sucks one finger into her mouth before slipping her hand inside my shorts. With a wet fingertip, she slides over my clit. I am already burning. I am already flushed and filled. Sometimes she is quick. Sometimes I am ready and already aching. She nips at my shoulder. I come as she slows down and moves her whole hand across my cunt. She holds me while I shake.

“Can I jerk you off?” she asks me and lately I know how to take. I say, “Yes” and turn my head to kiss her with a fierce need.

I lift my tank top and tease my own nipples, squeezing harder to make my clit full and firm. I lift my hips off the mattress. She is sweet. Kissing me and laughing low in her throat as she tells me how much she loves to get me off.

Some nights I am desperate and sweaty. She pushes the covers down to my knees and curves over me until I’m in her mouth. She sucks on my clit. I hold her head and pant hard. I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her to me, pulling her up. I want her body on top of me, pressing into me.

I have learned to take what I want. I’ve learned to let her give me what I want.


I like wearing a cock for the immediacy of it. I love being able to grab her when we get home and pull her against me, take her hand and hold it between my legs so she knows. I strap it on while she’s fixing her hair. It’s a secret. Just for me while we’re out at dinner. Sometimes it’s a cock small enough I barely notice it, but I like it when it’s absurdly thick and long. I love the way it grinds into my thigh. I stroke it a little while we sit at the table waiting for the check. I’m looking at her and rubbing my cock through my jeans getting off on the fact that she doesn’t know.

I have to adjust myself when I get behind the wheel. I lean over to kiss her and wince as the leather straps bite into me. I want to get her home. I want to push her towards the couch. I want to slide my hands up under her shirt and knead the muscles in her low back. Grab her hair and pull. Move and bend her onto my lap. When I’m wearing a cock, I see her bent over. I imagine my hands on my belt, working fast to unzip my jeans and hold my cock between her thighs. I feel ready. Coiled.

We go home and leave the lights off. There’s a streetlight that shines through the window along with a nearly full moon to see well enough to make drinks. She makes mine for me. I sit down and balance my drink on the arm of the couch. Careful, steady. I drag my hands across my jeans. I spread my knees wider and bring my fingers to the bulge against my inner thigh. I trace the outlines and pull on my cock. I move slowly, careful not to send my glass crashing to the floor, and pull her hand to my belt. “You’ve got to be careful,” I whisper, “Slow.”

She slides closer to me, tracing her fingers against my belly as she undoes my belt and jeans. Her hand reaches in and strokes my cock. Slowly, she edges my jeans down further until she has my cock fully free. I work at her shirt, pulling it off, and feel the lace of her bra under my fingers. She’s rubbing my cock. I can feel the pressure against my clit. My shirt sticks against my sweating back as the heat builds. I’m always like this. A furnace inside me.

I want it to stay slow like this. “Take these off,” I tell her and tug at her jeans. She steps out of them and I nod and touch her panties, pulling them lower. “These,” I say and she moves them the rest of the way down. “I want you on my cock,” I say, “slow.” She eyes the glass balanced next to me and moves carefully onto my lap. I rest my hands on her ass and watch as she pushes my cock inside her. So nice, so steady and slow, I can feel the pressure as I enter her. There’s a heaviness between us. We can hear the ice brush against the glass as she slides up and down.

I pull the straps of her bra so they hang down and peel the lace off her tits, pulling her against me. Sucking on her skin, teasing her nipple with my tongue and the sharp edges of my teeth, I breathe deeply. I am finally relaxed after feeling jacked up all day wanting her. Wanting everything. My fingers in her pussy. Her clit on my tongue. Her tongue in my mouth. My hands in her hair. Her wetness on my thigh. My body against and on top of her.

She rides me slowly and moans when I squeeze her tits as I suck. I need her to come sooner than she wants. I need her to feel cheated. Want more. I want this all night. I grab her hand and push it between her legs. I can feel her circling, her finger on her clit just above my cock. She pushes me deep inside her and pulls up slow. I want to feel her come and squeeze my cock inside her. Now. I want to feel it now and grunt with her skin in my mouth to persuade her. She can feel the desperation in my grip. I will make her come when I want.

She comes with a jerk and I feel the couch shift back against the wall. Quickly, I reach out to grab my drink before it falls. It slips a little out of my hand and half the booze spills in a sticky mess on the floor. “At least I caught the glass,” I said. “You need more,” she says and takes my glass back over to the bar. I’m staring at her ass and her strong thighs. Already feeling myself burn again. Needing to fuck.  Stay balanced. “Come back to me,” I say with a whine in my voice. She will take her time. She’ll let me strain against my impatience. By the time she gets to me, I’ll be angry and swift. Just the way she likes.


Make It Dirty

We fuck because we are fucked. We feel fucked over. Raw. Fucking angry. “Dirty,” she said. One word and a look. Her head tilted slightly down, her eyes looking up at me to make me feel taller. These are not conscious or practiced moments. Everything is instinct.

We had just left a party we were anxious to ditch. A work party. Mostly straight people. Bad appetizers and shitty rum drinks. No one on the dance floor. We left after wandering around and chatting with enough people to be polite. I don’t think we stayed more than half an hour. I hate small talk. I get jumpy. Thank god we didn’t have to stay longer. I never like straight parties, but right now, with the tragedy of the election, I really can’t stand to be in a room full of people like that. White, rich, entitled, and wanting to care about what’s going on but enjoying the comfortable assurance that it doesn’t really affect them. They don’t feel the damage and all the fucked up bullshit that so many of us do. I was angry walking out of there. Hurt and angry.

“Let’s go,” she said and I grabbed her arm as we headed out the door. I felt her move towards the car as we neared it but I tightened my grip and kept walking. I was heading towards the water, the graffiti, the warehouses. I walked quickly, silent, wanting to be in the dark, wanting brick and not this shiny glass and steel that surrounded us. I stopped where it was dark enough, quiet enough. We slipped between two buildings. I put her hands against the wall.

Power. Give me the power in this moment. Let me be bigger, stronger, more capable. Let me position you and shove your legs open with my knee. Let me be in control now, baby. Give it to me.

hot girl in a fuzzy coatShe’s wearing a fuzzy jacket that I like to pet with my fingers. Her hair is newly cut short, almost too short for me to grab, it slips through my fingers. I want her scalp to come alive and feel me. I pull and tug. She moans and closes her eyes. Her head falls back into my grip. I hold her still, my left arm crooked behind her back, holding her hair while my other hand pets her slowly. I start with my fingertips on her forehead and slowly drag my hand across her face, teasing her lips, scratching a bit at her neck, tracing her collar bone, sliding over and down her tits, grabbing at her belly, shifting over to her hips, her thighs, between her legs, to her ass. “Baby,” I mouth the word into her ear, barely breathing. “Make it dirty,” she tells me.

I slipped my hand under her skirt and pulled the tight fabric over her ass. I pushed her feet further apart. “Back your ass up against me,” I said and pushed my hand between her legs, “Piss on my fingers.”

I waited. I traced a finger against her lace panties, “Soak them,” I said. I felt her hot piss on my cold skin. I heard it splash against the sidewalk. Pulling her panties to the side, I let her feel my hand in the wet stream. I stood behind her, looking down at her heels, my shoes, her bare legs, my trousers, the growing puddle of piss beneath us.

I thought about how cold her cunt must feel. Wet in this cold air. I rubbed my hand inside her thighs, painting her with piss. I wanted her skin to pick up the cold air like an antenna. I wanted to feel her shudder with cold. I kissed her ass and pinched the soft, sweet flesh. Pinching the backs her thighs. Twisting her skin in my fingers until I heard her softly wince.

I pulled her wet panties down to her knees and dragged the back of my hand up inside her thigh until I felt her wet hole and shoved three fingers inside her. I fucked her hard, quickly pumping in and out of her. I bit her ass with quick little nips of my teeth. My fingers. My hands. My mouth. My teeth. That’s all I wanted her to feel of me. Feel me on your ass, your thighs, inside your hole. I wanted her to feel the piss on her legs and the cold brick building that steadied her and feel herself being fucked.

“I’m not going to make you come,” I said, “I want to watch you.” I pulled out of her and grabbed her neck with my wet fingers. “Show me how dirty you are,” I said quietly, “I’m going to hold you still like this while you touch yourself.” I watched her lift a hand off the wall and twist it at the wrist. She was cold and stiff. “Warm your fingers in you mouth,” I said and a hot desire ripped through me as I watched her suck one finger and then another. Slowly. Teasing me. Showing me. My mouth was open. Wanting to taste her. “Do it, baby,” I said, trying to sound demanding but knowing it came out like a plea.

With her fingers warmed, she started to jerk off. I kept my hand on her neck and pushed against her ass. She came before I was ready, before I wanted it to end. “Again,” I said and she nodded. “Again,” she said.

She came two more times before we stepped back to the sidewalk. I pulled her piss soaked panties all the way off before we walked away and carried them hanging from my fingers. They were gone by the time we got to the car. I’d dropped them somewhere and hadn’t noticed with my cold, stiff fingers. “Your panties are gone,” I said, opening the door for her. She just smiled at me. Pleased.

She held her hand on my thigh while I drove us home, petting me. I love the dreamy feeling that comes. We held that dream the whole drive. Held it when we got inside. “Come to bed dirty,” I said. She undressed and climbed under the covers with me. It was a good feeling.