Going Poly

Let me start by saying all of the below story is true; every word of it. If you're into labels, I'm a polyamorous bisexual masochist. I'm hardly 5'2" and blonde, but I have D's on my chest and an ass that turns heads.

I've always loved sex. There's something about the ability to connect with someone by sharing a part of your soul with them, of knowing that you're finding mutual pleasure together. There's something about feeling the rest of the world melt away as physical waves wash over you.

I'm one of those people who really love sex, though. I'm hypersexual; if I don't have at least one or two orgasms a day, I'm distracted. I'm hardly coherent.

So when I find people who are as sexual as I am, I know right away. I can tell in their expression when they're thinking about it, and how badly they want it from me. I thought it might be fun to share some of my adventures of being a polyamorous hypersexual.

I found him at a club. For the sake of privacy, let's call him Josh. I had taken MDMA earlier in the night and I was having a wonderful time, letting pleasure wave through my body, enjoying any random company I happened to come across. He was about 5'8", broad shoulders, and a mischievous smirk on his face. He walked up and ran a single finger down my arm, telling me in a soft voice he's always loved a girl who had freckles.

He was too short for me. And I've heard that line before; it takes more than that to impress me. But that single finger, coupled with the drugs and my pulsing libido, gave me shivers. There was something else, too.

I can tell when a man prefers to serve. I can tell by the way their hands flit around my upper arm instead of my hips or my back. I can tell by the way they look at me - usually through their eyelashes instead of straight-on. If he apologizes after jostling or interrupting me, he's already asking to submit.

By the end of the night, he was mine.

The next time I saw him, it was because he asked me to come over and cuddle. He reminded me of a puppy that lacked enough affection with the way he would put his head in my lap, looking up at me with sad eyes until I ran a hand through his hair.

But I kept noticing the way he kept looking at me. He would always ask for consent with his eyes if he was changing positions or wanted to say something to me.

The tension was broken through quickly. My legs were on his lap with my head on his shoulder, and I felt him shift, moving his hand to my chin. With a slight pressure my head was lifted, and after searching my eyes for consent, he kissed me.

His lips were soft. His hands were rubbing my arm, then down my waist, then there was a pressure at my back and I was being pulled against him as he kissed me harder. I was pressed against his hard chest for a moment before he slipped his legs out from underneath mine, pressed himself against me until I was on my back on the couch. His legs straddled around my small frame. He lifted up again, looking down at me with a sexy smile before leaning back down to kiss me, his tongue in my mouth this time. His lips opened wider as our breathing began to match and I felt he wanted to taste all of me at once.

He was already grinding against me, and his zipper against my clit was making me miss the rhythm of his kisses as I started to gasp. I was losing my breath. My hair was wrapped around his fingers and he was beginning to tug gently, just gently enough to let me know I was staying down until he was done with me.

I felt something burning; a single flame taking light inside me.

I didn't like losing control.

I pushed a hand to his chest until he sat up again. I sucked in a breath at his expression of being stopped. Confused. Disheveled.

That's better.

I left his expression there and grabbed the edges of his shirt, knowing he would hold his arms up as I moved it up his torso.

Those abs...

I placed my hand on his chest and followed the curve between his pecs down. Very slowly. I was waiting for him to put his arms back down, and when he did, I pressed my elbow against the inside of his arm.

He moved them back up.

I took my time tracing those muscles, padding my fingers around his nipples, tracing fingernails along the hem of his belt until he was squirming, look at me with those big eager-to-please eyes. I took my time until I could tell his arms were hurting.

Finally, I leaned back against the edge of the couch.

"Down," I said. If I was going to cum, it would be on my terms.

His tongue was already against my neck, licking around my ear, palming my breast with one hand while his other was brushing my clit. I was forgetting to breathe again as he moved my shirt partly up with his teeth, enough so he could nip at the sides of my torso, taking the flesh between his teeth, taking pieces of me as he slowly moved his way down.

I had started moving into both hands that were on me, gyrating, squirming to get closer. He was pressing harder, rubbing me. He was only touching me through my sweatpants but his mouth was pushing the cloth down my hips at the same time.

I felt his tongue poke out and move down my cropped pubic hair, and I moaned. An innocent enough noise, but at the same time I felt his tongue touch the wetness that had gathered from his hand.

I felt him stiffen. He had tasted me for the first time.

He looked up at me without moving his head. Consent to keep going.

He wanted orders? I'd give him orders. I put my hand on the back of his head and pushed down.

With a swift move he was hovering over my waist, smiling up at me. He slid my sweats off entirely, taking my panties with them. He hovered over me, breathing on my inner thighs. Dragging his finger from my knee to where I needed him to be, glancing at me until I growled at him.

He grabbed my hips and dragged his tongue from the back all the way up to my clit.

"Ohh..."

It was moving slow... too slowly at first. My hands were gripping the pillow behind me and I could feel myself arching off of the couch before he did it a second time.

"God dammit!"

I felt him smile into me as he did it again, more quickly, and then ran his tongue around my clit. I tried to calm myself down and keep some of the control, but I was already gone. Heat was flooding through me as he pressed my hips down with his hands and around my legs. His tongue worked circles around my clit, thrusting a finger against my G-spot, and my muscles began to tighten around his finger as I began to thrust against him.

My voice was rising. My body's gravitational force was everywhere. He kept going. I rode at least three or four before pulling him up by the shoulders, gasping for air, needing to breathe.

I expected him to take off his clothes. I expected him to look at me, hungry, needing more.

The only thing he did was wrap his arms around me. He kissed me gently, and I pushed against him when I tasted myself. When I pulled away the only thing he said was, "you really need to get to know my girlfriend."