Blind Carnival

Going Backwards

Somehow Reversed Cowgirl seems to her as the most logical choice. She climbs on him, his eyebrows twitching in confusion above the scarf, and then, balancing over him, she carefully wraps her hand around his cock. From there, as it's called in her books, she sinks on him.

It's not actually sinking, is it? It's more like she's that top piece on a stacker toy, one of those colourful wooden ones, where the ball that you're supposed to put last is always a bit too tight, you know? That's how it feels.

Also, this stacker has a flaw, which in the circumstances of shag is an actual blessing. The rod - all bad puns intended - is curved. And substantially. The randier he is, the more pronounced his curve is. The tip tends to point to his left shoulder, and at the moment he's so aroused that she can actually feel it poking more prominently towards one side of her.

She's quite enjoying the low hum that's born inside his delicious chest, when she's finally properly seated.

"How're you doing it?" he rasps out.

She laughs and presses her hands into his thighs. She's not heavy enough for it to be sensitive, but on the other hand, she has ridiculously small bony hands, so she needs to make sure she's not 'drilling' them into him. Although, he's breathing so heavily, he might not notice. She rolls her hips in a first experimental movement, so far just up and down.

"Oh god..."

Apparently her amazing shag skills blasted off the cap on his blabbering.

"Liv..."

She starts moving, in purposely slow movements. If she keeps her body - and consequently her fanny - vertical, she's bending his cock backwards, just a tad. It's so hard that it's not only curved to his left, but is also almost parallel to his torso. She doesn't want to jerk, or bend it too much, so she's keeping it steady and so far not too intense.

"Liv... Can I touch you?"

Oh he's so delicious!

"Knock yourself out."

She peeks over her shoulder ands sees his hands wave in the air. Oh, he hasn't realised that she's facing that way!

And now he does.

His arms freeze, fingers splayed where he probably thought her tits ought to be, and then he breathes out a swear.

"Are you–"

"Backwards? Yep."

She pops the last sound. He licks his lips.

"Liv, can I please take off the scarf? I need to see this."

His voice is almost begging. Well, she reckons, she'll just have to tie his arms to the bedposts next time, and then fully enjoy the blindfold and his immobility.

"Sure."

He slowly takes it off, and his eyes run over her.

"Fuck me, Liv, that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She gives him a cheeky look over her shoulder.

"Why do I have a feeling you're not talking about my shoulder blades?"

"I am bonkers about your shoulder blades," he corrects her.

He rises, one elbow on the sheet, his fingers of the other hand running along her spine, down to her lower back. Her skin covers in goosebumps.

"But this... The waist, and this line... And the bottom..."

"But of course, the bottom!" she laughs.

"I'm an architect, Liv. I might not be able to explain it well, but I can appreciate a... line."

His fingertips stroke her right under her ribs, and then he effortlessly rises and his fingers run down to her hip bone, around her waist and down, making her shiver. His lips press to her nape.

"You have such a sexy neck, Liv."

"Are you enjoying my curlicues or muntins?" she asks.

He groans.

"It's such a cliché, but you talking architecture is so fit!"

She laughs louder, catches his hands on her sides, and pulls them ahead. His hot large palms cover her tits, and she drops her head back.

"It does work then, heh? Smiths say 'talk smithery to me.' Warriors ask to 'talk swords.' In the novels like mine, that is."

She starts moving. She has to once again press her hands into his thighs, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Yeah." He's having trouble concentrating, clearly. "I think it's just nice to... know... to be with a smart woman... And... oh god..."

He loses his line of thought, and his hands slide down, onto her hips, and he starts hoisting her up, when she's rising, and letting her go, when she drops. Fine with her, it properly helps. He has long limbs, and his cock is large - it's quite an exercise actually, if she's trying to do it properly and slide up to the very tip.

"Is it nice because it's nice to talk about your work?"

She's starting to pant as well. It's the combination of the storm of sensations - from an unusual angle, and from overall sexiness of the situation - and the strain of jumping on him. She pushes from the bed with her feet, but it's still quite a workout. Mostly to the insides of her thighs, since her legs are open quite widely.

"Maybe... I don't know..." He groans, his fingers curling into her skin tighter.

"I've done some research on architecture... For my novel... I can always talk architecture to you, if you need to get in the mood..."

"I don't think I'll need assistance with that..."

He chuckles throatily.

Muscles are starting to coil inside her, poetically speaking. He's also breathing faster. Alright, so she's facing the classic dilemma here. She can make him come. By now, she's established the speed and the angle that will 'take him there.' The changes in the tone and volume of his rumbles are a very good indicator. Also she can tilt her body to the sideslightly , and her inside will rub the tip more, which will in theory make it more pleasurable for him, and again will get him to a crisis faster.

She, on the other hand, knows that to come she needs pressure on the front wall of her fanny. That's why it's easier for her to come when she's on top. If she regulates the angle and the speed, it could be spectacular! So, as usual, is it 'the man or you?' She'd need to lean forward a bit - she tests it, and he groans - but it might be overstimulating for him and actually prevent him from coming.

Choices, choices, choices... She also can't ask him. Well, she can, of course, but she knows that he'll offer to take care of her, and she doesn't want to be selfish. She looks over her shoulder again. Oh my, that's quite a view. His eyes are closed, he's supporting himself on his elbows, having let go of her hips, and his lips are wet and pink, and he is so amazingly beautiful!

He notices she's stopped, and his eyes fly open.

"What is it, Liv?"

She sees only one way out of it: a compromise.