How the HELL are we so compatible as sex buddies?

Yet another session with YoungMan. Sex together is insanely amazing. Our bodies fit together like forever-changing puzzle pieces. We're both on the thinner side of light, for our respective heights, and we both have crazy long limbs. So when we caress, when we collide, when we stretch the bodies, we become a tangled mess of arm-leg-insert-crook-of-knee-elbow and then a kiss. I'm mezmerized by his lips and tongue. What's surprising is how focused I am on his lips when the most striking thing about his face must be his eyes. Deep blue, expressive and quiet, and just plain sexy. When we're facing each other, when he can see me and watch me while we're having sex, he gives me the most piercing, sustained fuck-stare I've ever experienced. It's a hard type of stare that chills me deep down and it makes me want to be hurt by him. I feel as though I could be used by him and thoroughly abused, and that very sentiment makes me cum almost immediately.

YoungMan discovered my hard-core proclivities (think choking, force, bondage) with zero discussion on my part. He's so incredibly in touch with my bodily responses that he homed in on all the crazy things that get me going -- things that I fantasize about, but would never ask someone to do. He's extremely observant, and I'm all the luckier for that. He thoroughly enjoys pleasing me, and says that he just loves watching me as I exist in varying states of pleasure. And his stamina is overwhelming. He says he's never met a girl who wants to and can fuck for as long as he can. I could say the same for all of my previous partners. My husband and I also have long bouts of sex, and usually will take at least an hour, if not two to enjoy ourselves. But with YoungMan, we've probably averaged about 3-4 hours each time. With most of my other partners, I've always felt guilty for wanting to go at it longer and continue to please myself, even after they've finished.

There seems to be some kind of magical chemistry that happens between us. We have so many little things in common, (though yes, there are quite a few things that differ remarkably), things that are personal choices, things that have nothing to do with anything important at all, yet are all around. Insignificant coincidences that occur way too frequently not to be noticed. And sexually, we're dynamite. As experienced as I am, with as many previous partners that I've had, I find it incredible that I'm experiencing brand-new sensations with YoungMan. And I'm completely taken aback at his forward behavior in bed. He's just as forceful as I want and like, following the ebb and flow of my desires. We joke about him being a devil in disguise because of how deeply he knows what I want, and I never have to say a thing. Perhaps I do "say" enough for him to know, but it's all in the language of our bodies. As though we read each other so naturally and thoroughly that spoken words are wholly unnecessary.

And orgasms... wow. With most other men, I'm able to cum once, following a slow and steady build-up of desire. Usually, that one time is a hummer; it's built-up for so long that when it happens, I feel like I've exploded. And generally it happens aided by my hand, as the extra friction on my clit (in just the right way) is a booster. I've only considered the rolling orgasm a bonus -- that is, after the one major quake, I might get a couple of aftershocks that roll on through me. And sometimes, those reverberations are actually uncomfortable because my body is at a heightened state of intensity already. But with YoungMan, it's like I get chain-linked mini-orgasms from the first time he enters me, all the way through to the end. The one time that I had a crash-worthy orgasm with him was so overwhelming that I actually squirted ejaculate all over his stomach. It was EVERYWHERE. Normally, I'd have been embarrassed, but with YoungMan, it's as though all of my inhibitions are turned off. In fact, when I ejaculated that time, I got so turned on by being amazingly wet that the sex got even more wild after it happened. Sex with this guy is so different from other men I've been with. And this scares me. I feel like I'm developing a serious physical, chemical addiction. Not the obsessive kind that deals with emotions, fear, worry and relationship issues. But the compulsive kind that is raw, unpredictable and uncontrollable. The desire is so tremendous that I am always searching for ways to get that next fix.

Now, for a list. Newly discovered, incredibly sexy things that YoungMan does to me:
1. the fuck-stare.
2. he loves my ass. lots of ass handling, squeezing, pinching, slapping, biting, spreading. whoo! a doozy.
3. the tight, pointy tongue and everything it does. licking his lips, licking my lips, licking the air, teasing me, and most recently, going down on me.
4. he takes me. after i've exhausted my capacity for orgasms, his build-up for orgasm comes from handling my body like a piece of meat. he moves me, makes my body fuck him. both hands on my waist, my thighs, my ankles, my stomach, my shoulders, my wrists. whatever it takes. he makes me fuck him.
5. this morning, I came three times within 8 minutes. then he came all over my stomach. that was the quickest quickie we've ever had, and I didn't even think it was possible.
6. the taste of his cum. the most delicate flavor i've ever had. he pulled out of my cunt, and went straight in my mouth, cock in hand. never, EVER have I thought that would be sexy for me. but hey, with him, it's amazing.

Oh, and I did a strip tease for the first time in my life. And it didn't feel awkward at all. In fact, I got REALLY turned on by it. By the time we got the actual sex, I was literally dripping all over him. It's all him. I know it. It's all because of YoungMan.

something new

when BeautyEyes let his fingers roam, they explored so much of my body, and in that exploration, I too discovered new delights. I was apprehensive about letting his fingers penetrate because I was wearing an Instead menstrual cup. yes, you can have sex with this thing inside you, and really, there's no difference. however, because his fingers would be probing so deeply, I didn't want him to feel something strange inside of me. thus, the excruciatingly long bouts of clittoral foreplay. his fingers danced a choreography I've never felt, and it wasn't too extreme of a sensation either. normally, I'm extremely sensitive on my clit, but his gentle ways did wonders on my body. two fingers would glide smoothly, one on each side, flanking my tight little clit, moving my skin side to side, back and forth, up and down. his rhythms were perfect, never off beat from what my body was crying for. he was so attuned to my pleasure that it was as if we were one breath. he watched my face for tell-tale signs and listened to my inhalations. he never wavered, and our motions were syncronous with one another. occasionally, he would dip one finger, then maybe two, just barely glancing the inside rim of my very tight pussy. and then back outside, back to the manipulation of my clittoral pleasure. this continued on for well over an hour. of course there was more going on other than his fingers rubbing me, but for this post, I'm focusing on masturbation.

eventually, he wore me down, broke me away from my apprehensions and I let him slip the whole length of his two fingers inside me. as he eased deeper inside, I could hear him whimper, could feel his breath changing pace. could he really be enjoying this as much as me? the way he flitted his fingers against each other and against the walls of my cunt was something else entirely. I could feel my eyes roll to the back of my head, in complete surrender to what BeautyEyes was making me feel. he started pushing harder, deeper, more rhythmically, and I could feel these scratching sensations where he must have been pushing against my G-spot. (mind you, I've never felt this so-called g-spot, until this weekend.) my body responded by pushing back against his palm and now his thumb was playing around with my lips and my clit. I couldn't take it anymore and started really fucking his fingers, my hips grinding down, my body grasping his, tightening down against him. and that's when I felt it -- the heat, the pressure, the building of muscle tension in my hands, my arms, my abdomen, my thighs clenched taking everything inside me. One final scratch on that small hard mound behind my pubic bone, and that was it. I couldn't believe I was cumming all over his hand. Screams tearing out of me, moans released into the air, he brought me to climax for the first time, with only the dexterity of his fingers. incredible.

now that I am home, looking at porn, I'm experimenting with different touches. trying desperately to imitate BeautyEyes, I've learned another part of my sexuality. I've learned quiet discipline -- the kind that creates a build-up so extreme, the kind that takes patience and time. light circles of barely touching fingertip to clit, leave the grinding for another time. it's a sweet kind of pleasure, unlike the gritty, hard palm-fucking to which I'm accustomed. I have BeautyEyes to thank for this. sometimes all it takes is to slow down and recognize subtlety.

More playing, more fun

Life has been treating me quite well lately. I've been taking some time to catch up with friends I've been neglecting, and basically getting out of the house some more. This past weekend I had an absolute blast. Met up with an old friend (like from childhood times) whom I've always considered the brother I never had. We've since drifted and done our own thing, but the Fates brought our paths together one more time. It was a last hurrah before his taking flight to a faraway paradise, and boy was it some kinds of fun!

I haven't been clubbing in quite some time; H has been decidedly self-conscious about his age and so I never really pressed the issue. The few times I've asked to go out he's declined, so I stopped asking. This past weekend though, I went without him. He was completely fine with it because it was a childhood-friend thing, and so on and so forth. After a couple of drinks, I was loosey-goosey and all over the dance floor. It didn't help matters that my childhood Friend (F) was super touchy-feely. He was delighted that I made it out to chill with him and his boys. Little did he know that because I haven't been dancing in a long time, I was bursting to let it all out.

From the minute that I arrived at the club, I saw F standing there at the bar. I tapped him on the shoulder and as soon as he saw me, gave me a great big hug that was very nice to receive. Throughout the meet & greet with his group, he kept slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me close to him. I couldn't help but feel excitement and quite a bit of attraction toward him. (Mind you, he attended my wedding, and he's involved in a pretty serious, long term love affair of his own.)

On the dance floor, it was a whole other world. It's been many many years since I've been clubbing without my husband, or without a significant other for that matter. Normally, my super-sexy moves get focused solely on my H, and nobody else on the floor even comes close to us. Something about that loud beat and the feel of the sounds deep in my chest, down my spine and through the soles of my feet just really gets me going. Well, out there, I couldn't believe what was happening. I'm sure the girls who were out with us must have thought I was the biggest slut in the world, but I didn't care. I really couldn't give a shit.

My Friend, his friends, as well as random clubbers on the floor worked their way toward me throughout the night so they could get some grinding action, and with that music, that hot, sweaty environment gave me exactly what I needed. I must have danced with seven to ten different guys throughout the evening, hardcore dancing. Two in particular though stand out in my mind. One guy, very good looking, I just met that night as a friend of a friend of my Friend. We didn't really talk at all, but damn, out of nowhere I found him slipped up behind me, grinding against my ass. Whew! He was hot. The way his hips moved... mmm, mmm! He never used his hands, and kicking it up a notch, he would nuzzle against my neck without actually touching me. I expected at any moment that he would either kiss my neck deeply or full-on bite me. But neither of those things happened. Instead, he just kept on revving me up getting me hotter and hotter. Boy, that was fun.

The other was surprisingly, my Friend. He seemed somewhat shy through most of the dancing. I think he was trying to "be good", seeing as how his girlfriend was in another country and all. But eventually, he broke out of that shell. It first started with the playful type of dancing -- the kind you can just turn around and dance away from without giving or taking offense. All smiles and giggles. Good, decent fun. But by the third and fourth time around, you just can't take the sexiness anymore, and you just have to give in. That's when I felt his hands rest on my hips, and that's when my arm reached around the back of his thigh. That's when I felt that he was hard, and when we were grinding, I could feel his dick pressing up against me. That's when I turned around, our legs straddling each other's, and the rhythms took over. Enslaved to our bodies, we became passive as the legs, the hips, the groins just worked their magic together. We crossed a line. That line that flirts between sexy dancing and real dry grinding. Sex without fluids. Lengthy orgasm pumped through the body with ambient house beats enveloping. These are the telltale moments of what real sex would be like with that person. Fucking hot. That's what.

Whew. Damn did I have a good weekend.