I’m not so vain to assume I have “fans” here, or even that too many people even bother to follow my life, experiences and growth as told through my published stories.

But a few do, and so I hope this new story lands in a very sweet spot for anyone who knows about my new(ish) relationship with Alyssa, and how she seems to have the power to unleash a gymnasium’s worth of butterflies with each new experience we share together.

If you count yourself among those few, I happily dedicate this story to you–and of course to Alyssa, as well. You all make me smile.

As a windy fall brought a new phase to our relationship, not to mention the seasonal drydocking of Alyssa’s beautiful boat, we’ve been spending more time at my home and her apartment.

A few weeks ago she invited me for a “dinner date” at her place, and she even cooked. Although autumn roasts don’t exactly fall in her long list of fortes, I was willing to overlook the dryish short ribs for what came afterwards.

If you’ve read any of the stories about Alyssa I penned here, you may remember that she is incredibly adventurous, passionate and tends to be a “talker” during moments of intimacy, which is both intense and insanely erotic.

She would probably melt me just sitting across from me silent in a mesh teddy, but the way she understands my mind (sometimes beyond what I even understand myself), and is willing to push buttons no one ever dared push, has been exhilarating and outrageously sexy.

I am in love with her and the way she treats me. She makes me wish I could buy back the last 15 years and spend them all with her.

We cleaned up an otherwise lovely dinner and decided to watch television in bed afterwards, which was well understood code for “let’s play with each other with the television on.” Yes, please–my body hummed as I put away the last of the plates and glasses and joined her in her cluttered boudoir.

She has a misplaced French four poster bed in the middle of what could pass for a shore home yard sale. Boxes of “stuff” that she never took to the boat, or took from it but doesn’t have the heart to throw away, and two huge chests of drawers packed with a hilarious clutter of mismatched items like sheer bras and leather boating gloves. Just thinking about her “filing system” makes me smile. She is an original in every sense of the word.

As a bit of a refresher, Alyssa is my first relationship with another woman–after 18 years of marriage to my ex-husband. We’ve been together about a year now, officially, and I can honestly say I’ve never exhausted much energy “looking back” at anything I missed from that previous relationship.

I do admit that it feels odd to have not pleased a man sexually in about three years–something Alyssa often turns into achingly seductive pillow talk, from time to time. It’s only because of the overwhelming desire I have for her that I don’t spend much time missing things like, to be perfectly blunt, being penetrated by a man–vaginally, orally, or even anally.

If you ever saw me, panting, hair in my face, skin glossy with perspiration after one of our playtimes, you would be hard pressed to guess that there is anything I missed. And you’d be right.

Sort of.

With the volume too low to follow the movie she flicked to on the television, Alyssa eased me back onto the pillows in bed and began to kiss my lips, neck…ears. God, she makes me shiver. As she positioned her body over mine, I could feel the heavy smooth glide of her massive breasts moving over my increasingly available flesh, and it made my entire body feel like it was plugged into some unseen power source. I could almost feel our ragged breathing synching up with each nibble or kiss from her pouty, eager lips. As she slipped her fingers between my thighs, I could actually feel how pleased she was with the effect she was having on me, two fingers slipping inside me as easily as if they were buttered.

As Alyssa’s face lowered to my own breasts, I cupped them and offered her my pierced nipples. Her tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, and trapped my metal studs in a way that made me whimper each time she rolled and released them with her tongue. With a confident smirk, she looked into my eyes, her fingers still moving in and out of me, and whispered quite daringly, “Kristi….do you miss cock?”

My mind raced–what did she mean? Was she wondering if I was fulfilled? In this amazing relationship? By her? Was she worried that at some point I would revert back to my former life, chalking everything we had found in one another to “just a phase?” I didn’t know how to verbalize my response. But when she whispered it again–“Kristi…do you miss…COCK?” I could feel her adding a third finger to the gentle pressure inside me, and I couldn’t help but gyrate my hips, fucking her fingers and hand, needy.

Where was this going? Was it a trap? A tease? I didn’t want to offend her by saying yes…or by saying no…considering what we were doing. My mind felt like television static, even as I felt myself become more and more impossibly aroused. “Baby,” I choked out, and kept my hips moving and responding to every thrust.

“Say it, Kristi,” she moaned, moving her fingers faster, curling them inside me, moving them in seductive and aching circles. Barely able to think, I heard my own voice in the room almost as if someone else was talking.

“I miss cock.”

She leaned in, kissed my bellybutton, then my breast. She drew her fingers from my sex and offered them to my lips. I dutifully, if mindlessly, took them in my mouth and sucked. It was hot, but I felt the instant emptiness from her thrusting. I wanted her inside me, but I suddenly worried if I had stepped into a trap. Was she offended? Was it not the answer she wanted to hear?

“Close your eyes, Kristi,” Alyssa whispered as she slid off the bed for a moment. I was confused, but did what I was told. I heard a slide of a drawer, and the gentle rub of flesh and fabric–something. My mind raced but there were no finish lines. The gentle, subtle commotion continued as I heard her instruct me, “roll over and keep your ass in the air.” I did. I was exploding inside. What was happening right now?

I felt the sag in the mattress as she climbed back into bed with me, behind me now. I wanted to open my eyes, but she cautioned me against it. Adding, “say it again, Kristi.” I knew Alyssa well enough to know what she wanted me to say, but I didn’t exactly know why. Nonetheless, I did as she instructed.

“Alyssa,” my voice wavered. “I miss cock.”

And that’s when I felt the first pressure. The teasing, dull familiar pressure of a cockhead gliding up and down my pussy until it was lubricated enough for penetration. Fuck, what was happening? My mind connected the dots as fast as it was able, and then I felt it. All of it. Deep.

While my eyes were closed, Alyssa had slid on a strap-on harness and pressed it inside me with a slow, careful, deliberate thrust. I almost screamed. I could feel its length, thickness. It stretched me. Considerably. It filled me in a way I hadn’t experienced for years and years, and I needed her. It. Everything. I felt Alyssa’s hands slide to my hips.

“Say it again, Kristi.”

Oh, fuck.

“God, Alyssa, I MISS COCK.”

With that, she thrusted hard and deep and fast. Alyssa is barely five feet tall, but the power and passion she harnessed with every slam of that thick, latex cock inside me felt like I was being manhandled by a man–and it was making me need to explode.

She was relentless. Moaning herself even as my moans turned to screams of pleasure. Until she matched my responses with a perfectly timed, “cum on my cock, Kristi. Say it–tell me how much you love cock.”

I don’t actually remember saying it again, I just remember screaming “FUCKKK” again and again as I felt my body spraying hot squirt all over Alyssa’s “cock” and thighs as she reached under me and gently slapped my clitoris over and over until I was spent, convulsing, eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Collapsing with my face buried in a nest of pillows as I ugly cried and cried from my own involuntary reactions to her–fucking. I have never referred to what we did as that until this night, this moment. Alyssa–FUCKED me.

Even with the dildo portion of the strap on still halfway inside me, suddenly Alyssa’s fingers and hands turned gentle and loving, stroking my back, my hair. She leaned in and kissed my scalp and whispered, “I love you, Kristi.”

That might have felt even better than the amazing sex we just shared.

God, I love this woman. And I hope you loved sharing this experience with me.


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