My girlfriend and I had just finished a nice sensual fuck. The kind that makes your toes curl as you grunt and push into her pussy in the pulsing throes of orgasm. We were staring into each other's eyes at the climactic moment and actually finished at the same time.
Breathing heavily from my exertions I rolled off asking the proverbial question, "Was it as good for you?"
My hand rested on her thigh lovingly and she squeezed it in reassurance, "Better." Then she caught me off guard, "What were you thinking?"
Naturally I was thinking of her pussy walls clenching and milking my cock. I loved the silky texture on my bare cockskin.
I embellished as the writer in me was prone to do, "I was lost in your eyes. It was like I was swimming in pools of love."
Ginger sat up excited, "Me too! I could stare into your soul all day. The feeling of being so - connected."
She left me lounging in the sheets during her customary post coital shower. She had once explained that she could handle the dirtiness during the act, but afterwards the thought of being immersed "in" the mess was too much.
Returning to me, she lay her head on me, slowly stroking first my hairy chest, then uncharacteristically she moved her tiny hand to my balls. It revived my erection in a short time.
She tugged my dick musing, "When I'm lost in the act I don't think about Missionary position. I fantasize about riding your penis and feeling your goo rocket up into the depths of my being."
I pushed my cock against her hand with my hips, "Climb aboard. I can get hard again. I just won't be able to cum so soon." And she climbed astride.
From above me I admired her heavy swaying breasts, squeezing and kneading them, causing bubble gum nipples to protrude from between my fingers.
Ginger bent low rocking her pelvis as she did. Her long strawberry hair grazed my chest. She implored, "I shared. Now what's your fantasy?"
I was reminded of a story I'd read once where a woman rode a man's face like an equestress on a powerful horse. I felt vulnerable and open: like sharing it would be OK. It wasn't MY fantasy, as if I had just one big unrequited desire. But it was ONE fantasy. I elucidated, "I read this story once, it was thrilling. It touched my buttons using all the sexiest vocabulary."
She sat upright, still fucking herself on me, supporting herself with her fingertips on my belly. "Go on..." She grinned mischievously.
I felt shy to say it aloud, "She was atop her man just like you are, and she crept forward until she sat her you-know-what on his... face... rather than his pole."
She squealed, "Oh you naughty, adventurous man. I didn't know you had it in you." She was working hard, trying to achieve her second orgasm while I had no delusion that I was anything but spent. I was just there to provide her with a hard phallus. "What was it called," she asked me, "the story?"
Not really sure I answered, "Something like 'She Bakes Him a Pie.' I shrugged as I told her."
Her eyes bore into me, "A creampie?!"
She had it! How she knew I couldn't guess. "Yea, that's what it was."
I continued my retelling as that wasn't the part of the story that turned me on and I kinda glossed over that. "The author did such a fantastic job describing her lady parts." I hesitated to repeat the outrageous words out loud as I was the more reserved of the two of us. "He waxed poetic when talking about... her wet excitement... and her moist lips. You could really feel her ardour."
She crept forward until her sex was above my chin. "We should do that." Her words were half statement, half question. I was no stranger to eating pussy and this new position was novel and exciting. I nodded enthusiastically.
"Oh Jeff, you're so dirty!" The way she grinned made me want to be dirty for her. She winked, "Let's pretend it's truly dirty." I didn't see her point about pretending.
She did have a strange fixation with talking about how sex was dirty. It was seemingly a love/hate relationship nastiness. I nodded, playing along, "Make me dirty, Ginger."
I told her how in the story the girl had let the full effect of her weight fall on the man's mouth. "Press it to my lips, baby. Do it!"
She moved the final few inches rubbing her open erotic doorway on me. Never before had I experienced the silky insides so intimately. I lapped, eagerly joining my spirit with hers.
Above me her muffled words never ceased, "What did the second man do?
Somehow she knew there had been another man in the story. And only now did I remember that detail. She lifted and I replied, gazing at her saliva moistened lips. "He was gone by then."
Ginger rubbed her gash on me with renewed vigor, "So it was about the two lovers and not the interloper?"