Coming (Or Not)

Three whimsical little vignettes about the joys and perils of that physical phenomenon we call, coming.

I have finally(long story!) decided to go on the pill. And for the first time ever, tonight, A will leave a tide of his cum unobstructed and uninterrupted inside my pussy.

The most basic act between a man and woman, and the purest, yet it’s been years since I’ve felt open and committed enough with anyone to allow it. But now, I am longing for it, something deeply fundamental inside me aches for it. I am a blank canvas, an empty cup waiting to be fucked, filled. Finished.

Never have I been so excited by a man’s orgasm.

It will be over quickly, I estimate half an hour tops. My hands are gripping his back while he rides me. Each thrust is determined, deliberate. His climax is the raison d’etre of our lovemaking tonight.

I love watching his cock, plunging into my depths only to resurface moments later wet but triumphant. I follow the metronome rhythm of his thrusts and my moans rise in syncopated chorus – Yes. Now. Soon. Oh. God.

The veins on his neck swell and his face crumples with concentration. There’s no holding back now. I’m melting. His hips are grinding to the finish, and his head is next to mine now. The hairs on the side of my ear vibrate with his whispers:

“Do you know, what I’m giving…you? My life. My essence…I’m pumping you full of my sperm. I want you to feel it on your cervix, in your womb… I’m giving myself to you.”

He is gasping between breaths now, shuddering, his handsome face crumpled with concentration. “All I have…Baby, everything…do you want it?”

“Yes, I do.”

********************

A little while later, when I can no longer feel his tremors, he rests his nose on the side of my cheek and speaks into my lips: “I thought we were going to come together, Baby.”

“We are.”

“But you didn’t…?”

“Are you sure of that?” I give my clitoris a hard rub and propel myself off his detumescent cock, a clear unfettered stream of fluid surges forth and hits the carpet. It is followed by the more gelatinous drip of his ejaculate, sluggishly creeping down my thigh.

“See? Told you we’d come together.” I grin while he joyfully scrambles for a nearby towel.

********************

There’s an insistent stabbing at my lower back and I surface, momentarily, from sleep. I can tell from the milky way that light is streaming through my blinds, it’s early. Or at least earlier than my rightful wake-up time, which on most weekends I like to delay to as late as possible.

“Mmffphmmmff?” Obviously, a rhetorical question.

“Morning Baby!” comes the chirpy reply. I groan inwardly. Why is he awake? Why is he so energetic? We had only switched off the lights 3 hours before and I was feeling it.

“Go back too schlweep…” I mumble, the side of my cheek cracking slightly to accommodate the movement of my lips. I wade back under the shroud of nothingness.

Then, again. Jab. Jab. Jab. Lower this time, just grazing the skin above my arsehole.

He tries to pull me into a cuddle, or perhaps maneuver a better strategic position. But I curl up into a ball facing the wall, my body language clearly saying ‘GO AWAY OR ELSE’. It seems to work.

For a few minutes, the Morning Glory and Human Pincushion call it a truce, but not for long. “Baby, are you horny?” comes his voice, a mere few minutes later, pleading this time.

More pleading and prodding. There is no denying it. His cock is rock-hard, and dying to be emptied of its contents. Well that’s because the poor man has held himself back for an entire night of lovemaking with you, I think to myself, my sympathies rising momentarily to the surface.

God knows I don’t hold back. I never do. The bed is still wet with my juice, so much so that moisture has soaked through the industrial-size towels we laid down on it before going to sleep. I can never come up with a reasonable explanation when visiting friends ask, why a girl living alone has 25 towels in her closet.

“I’m not really in the mood,” I say in a small voice, half-muffled by the pillow. I don’t want to be uncharitable but it’s physically difficult for me to get aroused in the morning. Actually, it’s physically difficult for me to do just about anything in the morning except lie still and snore.

Not that this seems to deter him in the slightest. “That’s ok! Just turn around and open your legs slightly,” he says.

I do so, angling my butt towards him. I hear him uncapping the little blue bottle of lube and smearing some on his cock. Then the air whooshes out of my lungs as he plunges suddenly into me.

“Ohhhh, uhhhh,” I moan. His pace is ferocious, and I feel him chafing away at the tender skin of my perineum. My lower body starts to tingle and awaken, my pussy beginning to open and silken. I can feel the sprigs of pleasure growing through my blood.

“I’m coming,” he pants.

“No!” I scream in protest. But it is too late.

He makes a funny sound in his throat, half-groan half-splutter, as if he is suddenly drowning in his own spit. Everything grinds to a halt. He holds himself rigid for a few seconds, a look of astonishment on his face. I think maybe, just maybe, he might have caught himself in time, until I feel a weakening pressure against the walls of my pussy and his wetness leaking away.

“I can’t believe it! You just used me like a cum-bucket!” I turn to face him accusingly, my pussy feeling a familiar ache. I only get helpless laughter in return. “Now I’m horny!”