Blind Carnival

My Cup of Tea

She moves three or four times - it's hard to count when there's a massive penis inside one's fanny, hitting the cervix every time one lands - and then she comes. It makes sense, of course. She was 'almost there' when she opened his trousers, and she hasn't been that aroused in seven years. And it's the best position for her anyroad. And he's absolutely gorgeous under her.

Her whole body is on fire. This phrase didn't mean much to her before, but now she gets it. Her skin's tingly, heated. All her muscles are, at first, tense and trembling, almost burning - and then she melts. She falls ahead, pressing her palms into his shoulders, arms surprisingly straight. She's making her usual mewling 'orgasm sounds.' She's forgotten about them; they've always seemed silly to her - but she feels too good to be embarrassed right now.

It takes a few seconds to get back to reality; although she really doesn't want to. She hasn't been in the magical land of 'a brain turned off by a powerful orgasm with the help of a hot, alive penis' for seven years.

She looks down at John. He is - of course - smiling.

He's stroking her hip under her skirt with one hand, while another is gently rubbing her knuckles. And it feels weirdly amazing, his hot palm on her hand. She really doesn't want to move right now.

"Do you want to–" he asks softly. "Now that you are... done, do you want to lie down?"

She probably looks very surprised.

"What? Now? Are you actually offering me to get off?"

He laughs. And it's a guffaw. That is exactly what they call a guffaw. His mouth is open wide, eyes squinted, his white teeth in a gorgeous contrast to his black beard.

"I thought you just did."

Oh, right, he likes daft puns. She smacks his shoulder. He chuckles some more.

"Olivia, I am a big boy and can take care of myself. You're having sex for the first time in seven years, and you're probably exhausted."

His hand moves from her waist, and he rubs her upper arm. It feels very nice. Professional curiosity wins over her embarrassment.

"What are you going to do if I say 'yes?' Go to the washroom and–" she asks and vaguely gestures up and down with her loosely fisted hand.

He shrugs nonchalantly. He's still very much hard inside her. That's actually very impressive.

"We can flip..." she offers.

She's trying to be polite here. He smiles again, and it's a bit shy this time.

"I'd rather not."

"Why?" Are the two of them really having this conversation?!

"Because you'll be sore tomorrow. And... I really don't want to spoil your impression of what's happening in here."

And he is saying it with a straight and honest face!

Somehow his calmness spurs her into action. She clenches her inner walls - and just as her novels describe it, his breathing hitches.

"I would like to address the issue of you thinking you aren't a good shag next time..." She lifts her hips slightly, tightly holding him inside. "But right now I have matters to attend."

She slams her pelvis down, and she can actually see his pupils dilate. Like in a video in a human anatomy class. She lifts herself again, and she can feel his chest expanding under her palm. He's taking a deep breath in, bracing himself - and she plunges down again. She digs her nails into him, and he groans loudly. Right, she forgot about that.