Monday, September 21, 2020

New Lover by Anonymous

 I didn't know what sex was until I met her.  My first lover was...

Let's use the word passive.

She would not give. She would lie there, permitting touching but not really enjoying it.

We'd kiss, and eventually I'd be invited on top, guided in and allowed to, well, basically masturbate inside her.  It was frustrating, unfulfilling sex.  I thought that was just how sex was. The man did his thing, the woman lay back and waited for it to be over.

I'd read about female orgasm, wanted her to have one.  I tried my best. I suggested all sorts of things.  All rejected. I thought it was me. So I plodded on, having less and less sex. Little trailing into nothing.

My second lover was a world of difference.  She was passionate, wanton.  She came noisily. She enjoyed sex, enjoyed the feeling of being penetrated, of being filled with semen.  She...


Sex with her wasn't one way; wasn't the inevitable giving up, giving in to the fact that a lack of sex was making me miserable and that it was just another chore.

Sex was her way of connecting. Sex made her feel whole, complete. Wanted.

I made her cum. Again and again. Six or seven times. It was a revelation.  I could please a woman! I could pleasure a woman! I could feel her cunt squeeze and pulse around my cock as she came.  She'd draw me in and ask, demand more.  She taught me devotional sex; how to make love to her for hours on end and to delay my own pleasure.

She'd invite me into her body, let me explore and worship her like a new land or a sacred temple. She'd guide me like a priestess or a sherpa, and we take the journey together.  She'd move beneath me, on top of me, around me, beside me and I'd move with her.

Sometimes she took me. She threw me down onto the bed and stroked my cock until it was quivering and hard and seeping precum.  Then she would climb onto it and ride it.  And yes, she enjoyed pegging me too.  Doing *all* the things that two adventurous lovers do.  Our tastes and kinks aligned.

Making love in the middle of the night, unbidden, just finding each other, half asleep, and coupling.   Or in the middle of the afternoon, a lazy day spent in bed just being together. Or waking up in the morning, hard, eager, and finding her next to me, both of us eager for sex.  Those are the things that would never have happened with my first.  And even now it still amazes me; that total contrast. The look on my second lover's face as I penetrated her, the yells and whimpers as she came.  The wicked grin when she finally decided it was time for me to cum.  All these things are a part of me now.  Something I will carry with me and treasure forever.

There really is no comparison between them.  I don't resent being with my first lover, or regret anything. But I do wonder still, was it me or her, or were we just not compatible in bed.  Maybe she was really asexual.  It matters not now.  Because now I know what sex can be.


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