We were together beyond all belief. We could not have known what we would be for each other ahead of time. We imagined what could be and made it happen. Not only that, our subterranean imaginations brought about an embodied, necessary, and unreserved truth.

I was a woman. He was a man. Those facts never limited us, although they did many others. I pitied them.

I was not particularly beautiful. He was not particularly handsome. We were not young and we did not envy youth. However, we were not limited by the bad habits and compromised health that often accompanies middle age. We took steps in our young adulthoods to ensure we wouldn't be walking stereotypes of midlife resignation.

But enough about what we weren't. Against most odds, we were happily experienced fuckers, gloriously unbound lust seekers, fanciful yen finders, and irrepressibly ethical sensualists.

We cuddled in the sturdy bed of our joint creation: equal parts frilly throw pillows, sports-themed bed covers, and four-poster, dark-pine solidity.

With his full permission and acceptance, my playful hands roamed easily over his tensed thighs and rigid cock. His deep, warm breath blew regularly over my smiling face. His hands alternated slowly between cupping my bare behind and fondling my excited nipples and breasts.

"I love jerking you off," I admitted.

"Why?" he asked in an erotic daze.

"I just really like dicks," I confessed. "I like the way they grow in my hands, their hard and velvety weight in my palms, their warm and salty fullness in my mouth. They just feel right to touch and taste."

"Any old dicks?" he teased.

"Of course not, silly," I replied, playfully elbowing him in the ribs as he squeezed my tits a little bit tighter. "Obviously I have to like the men they're attached to first. But once I do, there's nothing better."

"Nothing better?" he teased again.

"Well, obviously there are things that satisfy me more directly," I said, jacking him off a little bit faster. He grunted as his breath quickened. "But I like seeing and experiencing a man's unequivocal desire for me in the flesh."

"That's what I like about playing with women's pussies," he confessed.

"What do you like about touching mine?" I asked boldly.

"Well," he said, shifting himself out of my grip, spreading my legs open, and positioning his face in front of my cunt, "I like how it's almost, but not quite, the opposite of my cock. I like how it has to be discovered and explored and played with to reveal its secrets."

He began fingering my clit with familiar and practiced skill, gently rubbing the hood while teasing it with his tongue. I began to tremble and giggle with recognizable abandon. He slowly began fingering my G-spot while he explained to me how he experienced my pleasure.

"I like how it squishes and moistens when I touch it just right," he continued. "I like how you try to hold back your excitement while your trembling thighs and tummy betray you. I like how you push down on me and thrust against me, trying to drink in pleasure from the very center of you."

As he described what he was doing to me, my body responded exactly as he mentioned it would. I laughed with throaty abandon at the unvarnished truth about my hedonistic ways.

"I like that, when I get ready to fuck you," he said, gripping his dick and getting ready to mount me, "your pussy almost becomes shy and tightens up a little before I push the head of my cock past your pussy lips."

Again, my cunt did exactly that which he described. He rubbed himself back and forth along my folds, making a rapid and wet cadence.

"I like how you don't hold back when you fully accept me inside of you," he said, plunging smoothly and continuously inside of my welcoming moist cunt.

"Oh, fuck!" was all I managed to croak as he slowly thrust desire into me and out of me. I sank into the feeling of being pounded with confidence. I thrust my hips forward and back, then changed to circles and side-to-side shakes to vary the sensation.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I screamed as he groped and shook my titties. I lewdly stared into his eyes and grunted as he returned the look while angling unexpectedly inside my pussy to keep me pleasingly off balance.

As he held me down by the shoulders, I unquestionably snarled, not out of anger or fear but because his raw passion elicited deep, animal lust inside of me that needed speechless yet audible expression. I ran my hands up and down his forearms, gripping them tightly when I wanted him to fuck me harder.

"Let me get on top," I begged. We switched positions quickly and expertly.

I pressed my hands into the middle of his chest and rubbed my clit along his lower abdomen, keeping his hard cock inside of me all the while. I looked down at his mesmerized face, lightly bathed with sweat.

I got to the soles of my feet and squatted down on him. He grabbed my hips and thrust upward and back, quickly bouncing my jiggling ass against his thighs. I moaned over and over again, transported purely and proudly to an orgasmic apex. I howled over and over again, lost in my sexual delirium.

He came again and again inside of my cunt, draining himself inside of me until he couldn't give any more.


Comforting and cuddling each other in our post-coital glow, we confessed things about ourselves we never told anyone else.

"That was almost religious," he said.

"Not for me," I admitted. "Our fucking is better than religion."

"What do you mean by that?" he inquired.

"I mean I've never been spiritual," I confessed. "I don't decry anyone who seeks religion as a fully consenting adult. I just personally find faith traditions to be creepy, gross, and manipulative."

He was quiet for the longest time, so I broke the silence.

"I don't mean to offend you," I continued, "but I'm pretty sure you already guessed that about me."

"I had a sense of it," he said, "but you confirmed it just now."

"Are you religious?" I asked. "I never really questioned you about this, but I'd like to know."

"I was raised Christian," he said. "However, I haven't been to church since I was a teenager."

"I don't mean to be dismissive of anyone's beliefs," I said. "But sex predates religion and is more important in human history than the forces we created to control and constrain it. If anything, religion can sometimes almost seem sexual. It's a poor approximation of human desire, however."

"I don't even know what to say about that," he said. "I think I like the way your mind works, though."

"You should," I said smiling, giving his dick a playfully light pinch. "You'll get more out of my pussy than you ever will praying."

"You are unreal," he chortled. "Un-fucking-real."

"I think I'm completely real and absolutely fuckable," I continued to tease.

"Thank you, Ms. Literal!" he retorted, gripping me in a bear hug until I gigglingly gave in.

"Wanna titty fuck?" I offered.

"Like I'm gonna say no to that," he relented.

We got out of bed and I went to the nightstand to retrieve some lube. I splashed generous amounts on my breasts, rubbing it in until they became slippery and shiny. His cock raised perceptibly to the erotic sight of my lubed titties. I got wet watching him get hard. I went over to him with the small bottle and squirted lube on his dick, working it in until it was just as shiny and slippery as my breasts.

I kneeled down and looked up into his eyes. I pressed his cock between my breasts and he rubbed between them slowly, back and forth. I am not generously endowed. But I have enough to work with for this purpose.

I pressed my breasts together so he'd have a channel to rub between. I began to get warm all over as he rubbed his hard cock more insistently between them. I pinched my sensitized nipples a little as he sped up, increasing the pleasant sensations in my tits.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned. "That feels amazing."

"Fuck my titties, baby," I encouraged him. "Keep fucking these titties. They're here for you to fuck."

As I moved my right tit down with one hand, I raised my left tit up with the other. I kept up this alternating motion until he and I were caught up in mutual lust. His cock began to twitch and harden even more.

"I think I'm gonna fucking come," he announced. "I think I'm close." He placed his hands gently on top of my head and started thrusting passionately between my titties, the head of his dick peeking out quickly and disappearing between my heated breasts.

He stopped and started jacking himself off furiously, aiming his cock at my waiting tits. I shook my tits with my hands, giving him a raunchy visual and sexy target for his come.

He started to stand on his toes and beat himself off even harder. I began to play with my pussy in response, eager for warm come to splatter all over my waiting chest. Try as he might, though, this wasn't getting him over the edge.

"Let me do it," I begged. "Please let me do it."

I replaced his hands with mine and tried jacking him off the way he did himself. My forearms got slightly sore with the effort, but I kept up the pace. I stroked his balls with one hand while the other pumped his shaft up and down, up and down.

"I don't want to come like this," he moaned. "Let me fuck your beautiful titties some more."

I pushed my titties out for him to fuck again. He slapped his dick against my nipples, sending beautiful little shockwaves of lust shooting through my breasts, down my spine and into my cunt. Now he thrust vigorously and powerfully between my tits, grinding and pressing and determined to come. I moaned and yelped, encouraging him to give me his warm essence.

As he got close, he firmly grabbed the top of my head and pounded away between my tits. I grunted with each thrust, feeling the weight of his precariously balanced body slap against me.

"Come on my fucking tits," I commanded him. "Come on my fucking tits now."

He yelped and cried a little as I said this and his hot come splashed against my forehead and cheek. The other spurts hit my shoulders and breasts, gradually pumping a little less volume as the finishing shots squirted out like a fountain slowly being turned off. He trembled and shook as his cock twitched with its last orgasmic effort.

I rubbed his salty warmth all over my face and body, honoring and delighting in every place on me where it landed.

"Look at the mess you made of me," I said in mock outrage.

"Good job," I then said, winking one eye and smiling.


We rested a bit and cleaned ourselves up. We knew we were soon going to get back to fucking again, but we talked the way we had talked previously.

"You don't really go all the way during dirty talk, do you?" he asked.

"I think I do," I challenged. "I'm just not a fan of the most common nouns because I find them derivative and degrading. If there were better words for what I am, what women like me are, I'd embrace them wholeheartedly. As it stands now, they're problematic and probably always going to be so."

"A lot of people are reclaiming those words," he offered.

"Maybe," I replied, "but a lot of people who aren't women try to 'reclaim' words without checking in with the women they're with. Hell, a lot of women who like women try to reclaim those words amongst themselves, often with questionable results. If you want to use those words with me, try the adjective forms to describe how I'm feeling or wait for me to say I'm okay with them. But I'm probably never going to fully embrace those terms. We need new terms, better terms, that honor our sexual realities along with our self-respect."

He was silent for a good long while. He finally said, "You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?"

"I think sex is worth reconsidering, reconfiguring, and renaming, if necessary," I replied honestly. "If we were originally thought of as no more than the sexual property of men, I think we have the right to rename ourselves in a way that honors us fully and completely."

I went to the bookshelf and retrieved a common dictionary of the English language. I flipped to a common slur for sexual women and read it out loud.

"A dirty, untidy woman; a promiscuous or disreputable woman."

I also read aloud one definition of promiscuous.

"Casual and unrestrained in sexual behavior."

I continued with my informal audit of the history of misogyny against highly sexual women such as myself. I recited definition after definition that described honest sexual womanhood as an insult.

"A woman who engages in sexual intercourse for money."

"An obscene term for female genitals."

He interrupted me. "You use that word," he said.

"I use that word to identify my genitals," I said. "I never use a word identified specifically with womanhood as an insult about someone's total being."

I continued with other definitions of the said word.

"A person (usually but not necessarily a woman) who is thoroughly disliked; insulting term of address for people who are stupid, irritating or ridiculous."

I started again on other disparaging definitions of unapologetically sexual women.

"A woman who is regarded as evil and scheming; an impudent, shameless, or morally unrestrained woman."

"A lewd or brazen woman; a saucy or mischievous girl."

"A person considered as having compromised principles for personal gain."

I snapped the dictionary shut and placed it back on the shelf.

"So, what have we got?" I asked. "Page after page of fear and loathing of sex, especially sexuality identified with womanhood, even more especially sexuality identified with financially independent womanhood arising from sex. Basically, it's fear and loathing of women in control of their own sexuality apart from traditional wedded monogamy. It's also, unsurprisingly, historically been about controlling women's sexuality by enforcing conventional notions of love and romance on them."

He was quiet and didn't respond.

"Look," I volunteered. "I didn't want to go into a rabble-rousing rant against love, marriage, tradition, or men. I just wanted to show how women who operated, and continue to operate, outside of those conceptions were and are routinely envisioned and treated."

"I've been treated shabbily for my high sexual libido, as well," he said. "I've been told what a dog and piece of garbage I am simply for embracing something slightly off the well-worn sexual path."

"Honey, I have no doubt you were," I said, going over to him. I took his hand in mine and tried to comfort him. "All I'm saying is that male sexuality is assumed to be innate, even if problematic. However, a woman who unreservedly embraces her sexuality in the same way a man is assumed to will be treated with exponentially more suspicion, fear, and mistrust than a man will, along with claims that she's being disingenuous to boot. Not only that, she will routinely be derided by other women that have common cause and should know better."

Now the silence weighed us down and threatened to snuff out our lust. I knew I'd have to be the one to save us from the weight of history.

"I like fucking," I said without reserve. "You like fucking, too. No one but us, no one but people like us, should define what we are and who we are. And those definitions ought to carry respect not only for sex but for anyone's total personhood."

I began to tentatively kiss him, slightly nibbling at his lips to warm him up to the possibilities of creating our own sexual realities.

"I want to feel as good as I possibly can when we're fucking, baby," I volunteered. "Let's find a way to make that happen that also respects our total being."

I went back to the dictionary to find a word that described the kind of people we actually were. I finally found a word that came as close to describing our real sexual selves as possible. I read the definition out loud.

"Any creative group active in the innovation and application of new concepts and techniques in a given field (especially in the arts); the position of greatest importance or advancement and/or the leading position in any movement or field."

I then pointed to the word so that he could see it.

"Is that really what you want me to call you when we're doing it?" he asked, slightly incredulous.

"Absolutely," I answered. "You can even call me that when we aren't doing it. I may even use it to describe you, too!"

We started to lightly kiss and giggle as we got over our half-hearted fight. I impulsively broke off from the make-out session, got on my hands and knees on the edge of the bed, and wiggled my ass at him.

"Now get over here and fuck me like a dog, [word in question]," I ordered him.

Even though his cock leapt to attention at my provocation, he just couldn't let that go.

"You don't consider asking me to fuck you like a dog degrading?" he asked, slightly smiling as he approached me.

"Last lecture, baby," I answered. "I'm not calling you or myself a name. I'm asking you to fuck me in the earthiest, happiest, most honest way dogs themselves fuck. They're not degrading themselves by being themselves. Therefore, you're not degrading me by giving me the kind of sex I like the best."

I continued to jiggle and twerk my ass at him, reveling in his happily befuddled laughter.

"Alright, [word in question], here I come," he said.

He happily took his time to tickle my feet and calves. He was going to make me wait for the main event and I didn't mind at all. He caressed and kissed my thighs, letting his hand wander up to, yet around, my pussy, leaving me itching and hungry for his cock. He started to give my bottom slight and teasing little slaps.

I bit my lip to stifle my burgeoning lust, savoring this slow build up. His tongue darted between my vulva while his finger nudged my clit to attention. Deep satisfaction escaped from me in a moan that started in my stomach and worked its way through my lungs and out of my nostrils.

With his tongue thoroughly inserted in my pussy and his nose buried in my ass cheeks, he used his hands to slowly stroke my sides, from armpits to hips and back again. He twirled his tongue in circles, drawing trembling pleasure out of my gash. He tickled me as he danced his hands down and up my sides, eliciting happily brazen laughter from me.

He sloppily kissed my pussy over and over again. Before I thought I'd topple over from the pleasure of that, he replaced his wonderful mouth with his beautiful cock. He slapped and spanked it at my entrance, enflaming my clit. I spread my knees apart a little bit further so he could ease himself into me. He patiently worked his dick into me, letting me enjoy being slowly filled.

I gently rocked myself back and forth, sucking him into me by pushing towards him, then tantalizingly squeezing along his length as I pushed away. I stayed with this momentum for a full five minutes. The extended pleasure slicked my pussy with dew.

He began to speed up slightly, smacking my ass with the flat of his hand. I felt the rippling pleasure crash through me to my knees, almost bowling me over. I was determined to keep my balance as my pussy quivered with its first orgasm. I pushed back with a hard slap of my ass against his hips and he held me in by grabbing mine in response. These hard, held thrusts unlocked my reserve. I moaned sharply and deeply with every met push.

I flexed my toes with the lewd sensation and he grabbed my ankles in response. He easily and confidently sped up a bit, our bodies slapping together and applauding our primal fucking. I let my pelvis loose so my booty could shake with abandon. He slapped and spanked my ass expertly and knowingly, loosening my limbs and my loins.

My second orgasm originated deeper within me and spread like a grass fire throughout my entire being. I growled and grunted and stretched my arms out with the enveloping pleasure, happy to lose myself in the ecstatic, whole-body tingling brought about by a well-fucked pussy.

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