It seems I am forever working to force my boyfriend out of his sexual "shell." I am adventurous, kinky; I feel like I have my whole life ahead of me, so I might as well get the most out of everything, including sex. Yet I find myself in love with a guy who might as well be the Charlie Brown of the erotic. I'll whisper my fantasies in his ear, run my nails across the urgent strain of his cock, feeling my pussy throb with the thoughts, interminable possibilities pulsing through my head, and the most that will happen is a passionate kiss and some mediocre fucking. Good, yes, but painfully silent on his part.
My moans and whimpers sound out of place along with his simple, husky breaths. I ask him over and over, "What do you want? What turns you on? What's your biggest fantasy?" but my queries are met with a boyish, embarrassed grin and a change of subject or some disappointingly ordinary sex. One day, however, we had a conversation that changed things. "Come on," I had asked him playfully. "There's nothing that turns you on, more than anything in the world?"
"No!" he said. I was getting impatient.
"Well, what do you think of when you jerk off?" I asked. "You must think of something." He had his arms around my waist, his face buried in my hair. I turned and kissed him on the cheek. He cracked his lips a bit as though a sound was about to come through, but hesitated.
"Come on! Say it!" I begged.
"I think about you." He said, smiling. It was good; a start. I shifted on top of him and put one hand on his thigh.
"What about me?" I questioned flirtatiously. He was blushing. It made him look cute.
"You... I don't know... in a skirt."
"Just a skirt?" I asked, running my hand towards his groin. "Or a skirt without any panties?"
"Without any." He grinned. "Easy access." I was becoming very turned on by his surprising eagerness to talk. I like powerful guys; I am a person who's involved in a lot and in control of all of it, and the thought of losing that control during sex is incredibly hot. His cock pushed against my flat stomach, and I paused to play with my belly button ring, making sure to brush him in a teasing manner.
"And..." He trailed off.
"What?" I asked. He glided a finger through a strand of my red hair.
"You and me and another girl, that would be nice," he added. "You probably guessed that, though, it's like every guy's fantasy." I had assumed it, but hearing him say it was shocking. I felt an initial pang of jealousy at the thought of him and another girl, but I had to submit to the excitement of the idea. Like I said, I am always up for experimenting, and, although I hadn't told anyone directly, I had always wanted to try things with another girl. It wasn't because I wanted a relationship with one, or I wanted to please one or vice versa; the thrill in the idea was that it would turn on the guy involved.
"I would love to do that, only if it was someone I'm not friends with, because that would be way too awkward, and she would have to be hot, by my standards. "