Cowgirl Sex

She was kneeling over me, panting. Her knees were on each side of my hips. Her hands were on my waist, balancing herself, and she bounced steadily, slowly on my erection that had been firm since noon. Her breathing was elevated and her pulse had to be high. She kept a constant rhythm, controlling the speed of our coupling, determining the pace of my penetrating her very wet and eager passage, and I worked with the dedication of a expert and an advocate, determined to help her remember these moments for as long as she was lucid.

It was her favorite sexual position, and we did it almost exclusively, most every day. She tightened her supple, pink inner muscles and held me tight like a glove gripping my fleshy shaft and holding me in place, the place I preferred over any other, the place I didn't want to ever leave. She looked down at me and smiled, a smile that asked, "You like this?" I answered with a nod and a push of my hips that sent me deep. I could feel her pulse in her pussy and sweat dripped off her forehead.

She closed her eyes and savored the feel of being filled by my average but enthusiastic, engorged cock. We were as one, and our sexual movements were timed perfectly. She was pushing down as I was arching up, thrusting into her with all the force I could muster, holding her erect with a hand on each of her thighs, reaching into her as far as anything could go. My ears were ringing as I pounded into her and she held me tight, and I could feel her pulse beating against my rigid cock as her pulse transferred to her throbbing pussy.

As it was the position she loved best, she always chose it. It was the one we'd first done on the sand at Gaviota just before dark, on a Saturday evening, around the point, in June of 1984, and we had reenact it every year at the same place and celebrated it in our memories as often as we could.

We've worked to perfect the technique often, practicing our execution and striving to improve our endurance by training and repetition, by dedication and analysis, by continuing to work on form and style as often as possible, making our sex an undertaking we worked on diligently and with conviction.

We managed it once in the tach room at a stable where her Tennessee Walker was boarded, with horses just outside the door, smelling the scent of testosterone and pheromones, and lifting their ears to sounds of mating just a few feet away, and like counterparts they shuttered and whinnied in accord with the mating going on in the tach room close by. We finished with a flurry that was not missed by the animals outside and they watched us intently as we left as if they knew what we had done.

We did it once behind the stage, in the changing room just out of sight of actors waiting to say their lines, standing behind the curtain, unaware of the coupling taking place so close, uncaring about the other things that were happening in the universe as they went about lives just a few feet away from our sexual endeavor.

When she came she covered her mouth and we laughed at the absurdity of sex and drama happening at the same time without the other knowing. We snuck out between scenes and wardrobe changes and giggled at our shamelessness. It was dramatic sex and art combing in nearly the same place. She had been cowgirl fucking as the play went on.

We accomplished it once in the back room of her father's souvenirs shop with customers making purchases while I was making my deposit in the the shop owner's daughter. We finished just before the chime above the shop's entrance rang out the warning that our time had just run out. We gathered our clothes in record time and managed to slip out before the proprietor checked his storeroom for merchandise or mischief or someone penetrating his daughter.

We once completed the act in Arches National park, on a pad below the famous arch, just out of sight of tardy tourist who hadn't managed either to exit on time. She had left on her hiking skirt, had slipped out of her panties, and lowered my pants just enough to allow the act but facilitate a hasty exit if necessary. Excitement ballooned in my torso as she rode me beneath the arch in our customary rodeo posture.

We froze as the ranger walked by within a couple of yards and passed in the dark as we christened the formation with the most basic human celebration of all, and when his footsteps finally faded out we resumed our task with a quiet climax that went unheard by all except the two of us and the arch and whatever spirit may have been listening to the hushed sounds of the night.

At a Springsteen concert, surrounded by fifty thousand fans, we engaged with the enthusiastic encouragement of those close enough to see, and celebrated the music with a concert of our own on the ground next to singing and capping fans who cheered us on with lusty shouts of 'right on' as we fornicated in the crowd and came on the last loud and lively notes from Bruce. Again she had kept her dress on, my pants just below my hips, and all that the other fans could see was Springsteen fans in the crowd, one of them sitting on a friend, in perhaps a gesture of gleeful fandom during a stirring song about America. The concert ended after two orgasms of monumental force with high decibel levels of background music.

Every time we think of Bruce we pull up lusty memories of coming to sounds of My Home Town and visions of happy faces looking down at us cheering us on, wishing they were bold or drunk enough to join us. On the way home after that concert I was exhausted but didn't know it until I woke up at noon two days afterward. It was the best musical event I have ever attended and we set a record of numbers of orgasms at one event with fifty witnesses clapping and saluting our sexual brazenness and resolve.

Maybe the most exhilarating of our episodes was on top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, after hours, and overlooking the city of lights with both of us totally nude, less the hundred American dollar bribe I had slipped to the tower security guard to give us the private time on top of the tower. We undressed, put down the mat we had brought along, and got into position. I got down on the cold pad, reached up to her, and helped her down on top of me.

She put a knee beside each of my hips, eased herself down on my rigid pole, slid it into her, and began to bounce. We started slowly, with the excitement of it raised because of the location, the exhilaration of the incredible height, and the risk of being caught. I slid up into her without pause. She was as wet as a kitchen sponge and I moved quickly in and out of her watery pussy. Time went quickly, and before we knew it, forty minutes had gone by. The security guard had given us thirty and her orgasm came just in time, as we heard the elevator starting up the shaft behind us. We quickly dressed, picked up the pad, just as the elevator door slid open and the sheepish guard stepped out and motioned us back into the lift.

I have to admit, if I am totally honest and impartial, and realistic, and principled, one of the most stirring cowgirl sexual experiences I have ever had, was when I got the opportunity to view it happening and was not a direct participant.

We were traveling through Italy with a tour group and took a side trip to Capri where met a fellow traveler who was also from the US. He was, of course, handsome and charming, a California surfer-type lawyer who had a wife at home and a progressive view of sexuality and life and love in general. He and his wife lived in the Bay Area near Sausalito, where they ran a small legal office.

We bonded quickly, became fast friends, and shared a great deal about our thoughts on marriage, sex, and life. We went dancing and, of course, he was a great dancer who made Claire gleeful with many sensuous dances throughout the evening. They danced close, slow, and sensuous. It was a romantic evening that progressed from a luscious dinner, to slow dancing, to a midnight walk along the seashore, to his suite in a chalet in a romantic hostel near the beach.

"You have a lovely, lovely wife," he said when Claire had gone to the ladies room. "May I be honest with you?" he asked, a look of absolute seriousness on his face. "I am very attracted to her. My wife and I have an understanding. Each of us has our own circle of intimate friends. She has her circle and I have mine. We both have sex with other people. May I ask? How do you two feel about open relationships, about sex with other people, about intimacy?"

I shrugged. "Theoretically, we agree with the concept of open relationships, but neither of us has ever been with anyone else since we got married. Both of us was quite sexually active, but since being married, no we have not," I said.

"Would you mind if I proposed it to your wife?" he asked. "I would love to sleep with Claire? I have to be honest. If she would agree, would you object to me having sex with her?"

I looked towards the bathroom door. "I have tried to never keep her from doing anything she wanted to. I guess what I am saying," I said, "is that it is up to her. If you want to ask her, then be my guest. That is between the two of you. She loves cowgirl," I said with a smile that surprised me. His proposition excited me more than I had expected. I found myself turned on by the proposal of Claire having sex with someone else. It was new and exciting and I got tremendously aroused just thinking about it. That new sensation surprised me.

When Claire came out of the bathroom I excused myself and told her that Julian had something he wanted to talk to her about. I left them sitting in his living room and went out on the terrace. I did not watch them, but looked out over the island. Later, I learned that he explained his marital arrangement with Teresa, his wife, told my wife he was very attracted to her, and asked if she would like to have sex with him. It was something she had never experienced, someone so direct, completely honest and bold, simply coming out and asking her to fuck.

Shortly, there was a knock on the glass behind me and Claire was calling me back in. "Julian has asked me to have sex with him," she said. "I have told him I would like to, but it depends on just how you feel about it. We have never talked about exchanging partners, and his wife is not here to participate, so I am not sure it's fair, but I would like to. I really would. We have friends who have done it. So, tell me honestly how you feel about the idea. If you say you aren't comfortable with it, then I won't."

"Honestly, it excites me to think of you having a grand sexual time tonight here on Capri," I said "I am not sure why, but it turns me on quite a bit to think of you two fucking tonight like minks."

"I would like you to be here," she said. "Do you have any desire for that? Would you stay, maybe watch?"

"I do and I will," I said. "I would love to watch you on top of him."

"Well, how do we start?" Claire said.

"I think we undress one another," Julian said standing up. He stepped up to Claire. Without further delay, she undid his collar, then unbuttoned his shirt, pulling his shirttail out of his pants. As she was unbuckling his belt, he was lifting her blouse off her shoulders. She stepped out of her skirt and glanced at me and smiled. I blew her a kiss and she went back to unbuttoning his pants.

Julian helped Claire out of her panties and she kicked them casually to the side. She took off her stockings, then stood up in front of Julian. When they were both nude he didn't waste anytime and began exploring her body with his hands, smoothing his palms over her nakedness, feeling her hips, her breasts, and her bottom, kissing parts of her as he admired her body. While he was fondling her, she took his flaccid cock in her hand and massaged it to a full erection. It stood out boldly pointing at her belly.

It had taken less than a minute for it to rise to the occasion and rose fully erect, extending out at her. "I hear you like cowgirl," he said with a smile. She nodded and looked over at me and smiled herself, acknowledging that I had told him what she liked.

"We have fucked cowgirl on top of the Eiffel Tower, at a Springsteen concert, on the beach, in my father's shop storeroom, and I would love to have it here on Capri with you in front of my husband," she said, looking over at me. "Fuck me, Julian," she said, her voice hoarse with arousal. "Fuck me good so my husband can watch."

He led her into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed. Claire knelt beside him and threw one leg over his hips, settled herself down on his erection, moved her hips, letting him slide up and into her. I had followed them into the bedroom and took a seat in the chair by the window, watching my wife fix his cock in her pussy and brace herself with a hand on each of his hips.,

Claire began to bounce slowly over him, moving deliberately and clearly savoring the feel of his ample cock inside of her pussy, filling her completely and giving her a satisfying and sensual fucking just as she liked it. Strangely, I liked it too.

I had watched a great deal of porn by that time and seeing Julian fuck my wife on his bed with her on top of him was as erotic and electrifying as any erotic video I had ever seen. She had lost herself in their sex, and he was clearly giving her one of the best fuckings of her life. It was not hard to admit that, and I did not feel one bit of jealousy seeing her have such wonderful sex with our friend from California, because it was incredible to see and I was truly happy for her to be able to get what she loved.

She picked up the pace of her bouncing, and soon she was frantically jumping up and down on our friend's body, losing all inhibitions, not caring if it were just me watching or a crowd at the Louvre, whether they were by themselves or in front of a TV camera. Her head was tilted back, her mouth was partially open, her eyes were closed, and her top teeth were over her lower lip. Her bare breasts were heaving in and out as her rate of breathing increased incredibly.

She began to groan and call out, moaning as her orgasm approached. Her fists clenched and her body began to shake. My wife was having an orgasm to remember, and I was able to watch it happen on the bed in front of me. Being able to see it from a perspective not under her was an advantage I was thankful to have and gave me a whole new sexual experience, much like watching porn.

I had fucked her cowgirl in many, many situations, but none of them ranked with the one she was having with Julian on the isle of Capri in his bed, in his bedroom, and right in front of me.

The speed of her bouncing over him was incredible, and my heart beat was matching the speed of their fucking. Her hair bounced with her rapid movements, and the room was filled with the sounds of sex. The bedsheets below them were wet from their mutual juices, and the sweat of their bodies, and they were not even close to stopping. Julian had fucked my wife longer than I ever had, and she was not even nearly satisfied. She had come at least twice, but he was still hard and energized, fucking with an energy rarely seen even in the best porn films.

I had given my consent and I was not regretting a single second. She was clearly enjoying herself and I was thrilled. My wife and I had not exchanged partners before, and the decision had come out of the blue, but I didn't have a single regret that night on Capri.

By midnight they had fucked for hours and neither seemed to be nearing their limit. When she collapsed on him I thought they were close to finishing, but as she leaned over onto him I realized she was slowly moving her hips back and forth, sliding her pussy over his cock, still savoring the feeling of his hard penis against her pussy. She simply did not want for it to end.

I focussed on the sight of his cock in her slit, pushing her lips apart with his girth. Her position on top, with her being bent over, allowed me to see her pussy and it was swollen and red, wet, and spayed wide from the impressive size of his still erect organ.

It was the most impressive fucking I had ever seen, whether n a porn film or a live sex show in Tijuana. The fact that it was with my wife made it even better. I dozed after a couple of hours, and when I awoke they seemed to be still fucking. When I realized they had stopped, that she was laying on top of him, but there was no movement at all, and I realized they were asleep.

I moved to the couch and stretched out, covering myself with a blanket that was folded over the back of the sofa. When I awoke they were once again fucking in his bed, but this time in the missionary position with her on her back, her head on the pillow, with him stretched out between her legs pushing rapidly into her. Her legs were wide and he cover all but her thighs and calves. I had never seen anything like it before. They had fucked half the night, then again in the morning.

We drove with Julian to the airport, and had coffee in the lounge. Each was amazingly revived, somehow able to recover. I was sure this would not be my wife's last time with Julian. He called his wife from the coffee shop the next morning and told her all about his night with Claire. It was clear they had a great marriage, certainly open and loving, unquestionably honest and warm. He talked to her as he stood by us and we could hear his side of the conversation. It was clear he was leaving nothing out.

"She is a beautiful woman," he said. "You would love her. She loves cowgirl sex," he said enthusiastically. "Yes, yes. Sure." We both wondered what she had asked her. When he finished the call he closed the phone and turned to us. "She wants to know if you ever do bi sex."

Claire looked at me and smiled. "Not yet," she told him.

We left Julian at the gate to his flight back to California. In all her time with him, all the cowgirl, the missionary in the morning, she had never kissed him, but the kiss the exchanged at the American Airlines Gate was heated, passionate, and a promise of sexual times to come.

When his plane took off she watched it fly away and I could see future nights in her gaze. She was remembering all that time kneeling over him with his hardness planted deep in her womanhood. She smiled as his plane flew out of sight and I took her hand. We each gave a squeeze and the gesture said there would be more time with him in our future.

Two days after we got home we got a call from them. They were planning a trip to Santa Barbara and would be staying at our house. I wondered what those nights promised, if there would be any bi action between the women, a group grope with all of us on one bed, or just a swapping experience with two new friends. Whatever happens, however salacious, however saucy and wild, I promise I will let you know in vivid, accurate detail, leaving nothing to the imagination and trying to do justice to the sexy action with my words. That I promise, and it will be just as it happened in living color. I will tell you every luscious detail and it will, most likely, involve cowgirl sex.