Blind Carnival

Up and Down Again

Alright, sex standing up is officially not worth it. It's possible, especially considering their size difference. John is a hench bloke in pretty good shape. He has no trouble holding her in the air. Between her arms wrapped around his neck and his palms on her arse, the two of them can communicate properly to set up a rhythm and altogether coordinate their movements. The issues with the shag are the following: A. It feels mechanical. Repetitive. Too staged. B. She suddenly thinks about what it looks like from the outside and snorts. Let's face it, it doesn't look like John is that much into it either.

He meets her eyes.

"Not good?"

Judging by how he presses the corners of his lips, he's close to laughing himself.

"It's not bad, but I feel like a cateller. You know, those acrobats in Spain who build a human pyramid."

That's his undoing, and he guffaws.

"To be honest, I sort of feel like I'm lifting weights here... Titchy ones, given," he amends. "But it surely doesn't feel like a– passionate shag."

"Can you please put me on the bed?" she asks decorously.

He chuckles again and makes a few steps towards the bed. She can't hold the laughter back anymore. And by the way, him walking and bobbing her on his cock is still more fun than the previously attempted shag.

Her feet touch the cover of the bed, and she carefully slides off his cock. It's joyfully pointing towards the ceiling. And twitching. She never expected to use the word 'cute' towards a penis - but here she was!

"So, what's the verdict? Is it going into your book?"

His tone is slightly absent-minded; he's tilted his head, obviously staring at her tits.

"I might still put it in. In theory it sounds very hot. And it's very deep. Although the protagonist has just lost her virginity. Don't know why she'd want to engage in this kind of shag. On the other hand, the readers won't really know. Not many have tried it, I bet. And I can put it into just the right words..."

He leans in and kisses her shoulder. She's the same height as him when standing on her bed. She suddenly has unrestricted access to his hair, ears, nose, and beard, and she isn't wasting the opportunity,

"What words would that be?" he asks, dropping his head backwards, letting her kiss his throat.

She pushes her hand into the thick hair at the back of his head. She properly fancies the small, behind the ear semi-curls.

"Something about penetrating her deeply, and her legs spread wide, making her feel open and vulnerable," she answers in a nonchalant tone, while keeping an eye on his reaction.

One of the thick black eyebrows crawls up Roger Moore style, while his cock that she's stroking with her other hand twitches. At the same time there's a series of small chuckles rumbling in his chest.

"That sounds both arousing and a bit ridiculous."

So, she was right in her assessment of his reaction to her preposterous wording. He's also clearly trying to spare her feelings here.

"Not 'a bit,' John. It's very much ridiculous. I don't have any illusions regarding my work."

She smiles and kisses his cheekbone above his beard. That might be her favourite spot of the day. The difference between the warm skin and the scratchy beard under her lips is intoxicating. Forget the daft bulging muscles and confident strut. It's the small things that are memorable and exciting to a real life woman.

And the 'not so small things.' Goodness, that's a gorgeous penis! She hasn't had first hand experience - wink, wink, nudge, nudge - with that many in her life, but she has, as always, done extensive research. This one is brill!

"So, what do you want to do now?"

Well done, Olivia. A perfectly nonchalant tone. It almost sounded like she wasn't hinting at an energetic monkey shag. If she wasn't currently fondling his wedding vegetables, no one would guess.

"Do you want to go get groceries?" he asks in the equally even tone, and her jaw slacks.

And then she sees his shoulders shaking in laughter and the glimmer in his blue eyes.

She lunges back on the bed, near the headboard, grabs a pillow, and before he can say 'I have enough sense of humour to laugh at myself,' she thumps him on the head. He falls onto her, roaring with laughter. She can't breathe, because she's laughing too, and because he smacked all air out of her.

She manages to place a couple precise hits to his head, before he disarms her. She grabs another pillow, and for a few seconds neither of them acts more than ten years old.

Although, once he rolls her underneath him, his nose somehow presses to her right tit. He catches the nipple between his warm lips, and she chokes on her frolics.

"So, what do you want to do now?" he asks.

"I want you to lie down, and we're going to have a chit chat."

He rolls onto his back readily, and she crawls on top of him. Since this whole time he was jumping around in a Durex - and by the way those men who say it's not comfortable should shut their gobs - she promptly straddles him, and enjoys the purring slash rumbling that it elicits out of him.

She rolls her hips, making him switch to a low, very chuffed groan, and then she leans and curls her fingers into his chest.

"If memory serves me right, I've promised to fulfill a fantasy of yours when we get a chance. I got my research. It's your turn now."

The Prussian blue eyes fly open, and he licks his lips. She continues to slowly rock on his pelvis. That won't get him off, but he won't forget what the two of them were doing here either. His throat bobs, and she sees doubt in his eyes. To think of it, he's right. They've only known each other for so long, and she's asking a very personal question. When asked about a fantasy, he can lie or tell her something common - threesome is statistically most probable, there's always watching or being watched as well - but to answer honestly is to lower one's drawbridge, so to say.

"Handcuffs." His voice is so quiet that she instinctively leans in.

There's even more insecurity in his eyes now, and she kisses him firmly.

"I have a whole closet of supplies," she whispers in his lips, and their eyes meet. She gives him a warm encouraging smile. "Some of that stuff I'd rather not try on a live person, but handcuffs are certainly very much OK."

He gulps visibly again.

"Would you have ones that are large enough?" he asks very quietly, and that's when it dawns on her.

To think of it, based on her previous experience with him, she properly should have known, but somehow her brain - and you call yourself an erotica writer, Olivia - went for the most common assumption. Man, woman, handcuffs. Who gets shackled in this scenario? But no, not in this case of course.

She quickly looks at his wrists, his hands are gently stroking her hips. She's been in love with this gesture of his since night one. And yes, she has handcuffs large enough.