“Come on hon, we need to get moving!” I paused in the doorway to observe my lover. Ryan was intent on observing himself, stooping slightly to peer into the low hung bathroom mirror to make sure he fitted his inner image of cool before we headed off to the Violent Femmes concert in St Kilda. He straightened up, half turning toward me, one eyebrow cocked in question. “Gorgeous”, I said sliding one hand across his arse, firm and muscled in his tight black jeans. Our movements brought him to rest in front of me, his leather jacket swinging open as he brought one hand up to rest casually on my shoulder. I seized the opportunity, reaching in and tracing the muscles of his chest under the tight black t-shirt, before tweaking the nipple which had perked under my questing fingers. “Are you ready now?”
“Yeah, come on let’s go.” he said, removing my hand firmly, before grasping my shoulders and turning me toward the door, giving me a little smack on the backside for my impudence. In response I headed into the lounge room to get my own jacket, glancing back up toward him with a mischievous twinkle before taking up the song playing loudly in the other room “guess it’s got something to do with luck, but I’ve waited my whole life for just one…”
The tape clicked off and I heard him remove it from the player and return it to the case as I gathered my own jacket from arm of the couch, sliding my arms in and flipping my freshly dyed red hair out from under the collar in a practiced movement. Lazily I reached over the side of the couch toward my shoulder bag, extending one arm to gather up the strap while balancing myself precariously with the other hand and a leg raised partway behind me in counterpoint. The movement raised the hem of my already short dress further, as the jacket caught the underlying cloth. I heard Ryan give a short laugh, then he was right behind me. His hand ran up between my legs, while his other hand pushed me further forward, disrupting my balance so that I now lay sprawled over the arm of the couch, spluttering in protest.
Ignoring my vocal anxieties about not having time, Ryan reached under my skirt, finding a hole in the crutch of my fashionably laddered tights, tearing it further as he pushed aside the dark cloth of my knickers, his long fingers probing for the wetness he already knew would be there. He rubbed and teased my cunt, ignoring my half hearted, muffled arguments, before removing his hands, leaving me free to scramble further forward, since he was blocking my retreat from behind. As I tried to gather myself mentally, more than a little disappointed that we’d stopped, I heard the sound of his zipper working, then the waistband of my tights and undies were gripped on either side of my hips, pulled firmly down over the swell of my buttocks before being yanked past my knees to halt above my booted ankles. Ryan straddled me, parting my buttocks to reveal my wet swollen lips, before positioning his cock at the willing entrance to my cunt. Ignoring a sharp pain in my arm caused by something in my crushed shoulder bag, I wriggled one hand up and under myself to assist in the positioning.
Once inside, Ryan held onto my hips, beginning a long, slow, teasing stroke which soon had me squirming, attempting to push back against him to gain more momentum. Realising what was happening he reached forward with one hand to pin me down, placing one hand firmly on my upper back above and between my shoulder blades. Unwilling to allow him to have it all his own way, but unable to wriggle my hips, I countered his pace by flexing my cunt, squeezing and releasing his cock.
He gave a little growl and released his current hold, his hand coming down across my backside, once, twice. Then he reached further forward, gripping me by one shoulder and varying his rhythm – sliding out slowly while thrusting hard and deep on the forward stroke. The side of my face was sliding too – against the fabric of the couch with every thrust, creating a sensation somewhat akin to rope burn. However, my lop-sided position now allowed me to move my hand back underneath myself, rubbing my clitoris with the flat of my fingertips to hasten matters. Hearing my moans, Ryan paused again for a moment, then moved back to his original position, hands gripping my hips, pulling me hard back against himself, as he thrust forward. It was enough. I came, pulsing and gushing and seconds later he followed suit…
Disengaging carefully Ryan helped me shift myself further onto the couch, and then riffled through a pile of clean washing for a towel. Using one end of the towel he rubbed his groin briskly before handing the other to me. As I swabbed away semen, now trickling from my wet cunt, he re-dressed quickly, then knelt and assisted me to pull up knickers and tights over legs reduced temporarily to jelly. Lifting my chin with his hand he eyed the redness flaring on my cheek, checking that I was ok before pulling me into a hug. Somewhat restored, I hesitantly stood, reaching for the crushed shoulder bag, realising as I did so that the pain in my arm had resulted from laying on my car keys.
Glancing up, I saw Ryan look speculatively at the clock. “We’ve still got an hour and forty-five minutes to get there” he said. “Do you feel like getting a pizza to eat along the way?” I gave him a ‘why are you even bothering to ask me’ look, and handed him the phone, before heading to the bathroom to wash and repair my makeup. I was just finishing when he came back into the bathroom. “Done, ready in 20 minutes.” “Good.” I said and pushed past him to reclaim my shoulder bag for a third time.” “What did you get?” “A large Capricciosa for me and a medium Mexicana for you.” I leaned forward and tweaked his nipple again sharply. “Thanks Ryan, ” I said, grinning up at him. “That’s one of the many things I appreciate about you. You know without asking, I really like it spicy…”
Times change: Back in the early ’90’s listening to the acoustic punk music of The Violent Femmes (whose first album was then already nearly 10 years old) seemed edgy, dirty, and in keeping with the sort of alienated, hormonally charged energies which infused young adult males like Ryan and his mates. Listening to the lyrics of the songs in 2017 provides a different sort of experience for me, summed up rather effectively by this article from Flavorwire.
The sexuality in our relationship was raw, edgy, hot , consensual and for both of us, experimental. Although I was the more sexually experienced of the two, Ryan was far less concerned about propriety than I was. In Ryan’s company I had sex in more places, in more ways and far more often than I ever had before (or since).
above my booted ankles. Straddling my legs, Ryan lifted my buttocks apart to reveal my swollen lips and find passage for his hardened cock. Cunt throbbing, all concerns about time forgotten, I somehow found a way to reach behind and under me to assist his entrance.
Securely inside, Ryan commenced a slow delicious movement of advance and retreat, his hold on my hips preventing me from hastening the end of our play, despite several attempts to do so. At the last attempt he let go one hand and swatted my squirming backside, then bent forward to grip my shoulder varying the rhythm to one of slow retreat and fast, hard plunging; strokes which reached deeply inside my cunt and caused my face to rub against the texture of the couch with each thrust. Using the hand that still lay underneath me I ignored a sharp bruising pain caused by something in the bag underneath me and strained toward my clitoris determined that the rubbing was not to be entirely on his terms. Seconds later I collapsed in a shuddering heap, with my lover reaching a plunging crescendo in the wake of my own pulsating cunt…
Ryan helped me swing my legs sideways, restoring me to an upright position perched gingerly on the edge of the couch, and checking I was ok. He fetched a hand towel from a nearby pile of clean washing, roughly drying his now limp cock before handing it to me to swab away the fluid trickling slowly from my cunt. Swabbing complete, he knelt in front of me and carefully pulled up my knickers and panty hose over legs rendered nerveless by our fast and ferocious encounter. Then he lifted my chin and kissed my reddened cheek gently, before gathering me against his chest for a quick cuddle. Equilibrium restored, I stood up slowly, reaching for my crushed shoulder bag, realising as I extracted the car keys that these were what I had felt digging into my arm as it lay beneath me. Looking up again I caught Ryan looking speculatively at the clock. “We’ve still got an hour and forty five minutes to get there,” he said. “Let’s stop at the Taco place along the way”. At my questioning look he added “It’s going to be a long night in the pit, I’m already hungry, and for some reason,’ he paused and looked directly at me, “I feel like something spicy…”