Lawrence and I have plans for this weekend. He wants to watch a movie with me at his place. Have a quiet night in and catch up. I know what that means. I know he means to fuck me and I will probably allow it, if only for research. Or so I can ground myself, instead of the feeling of H and I standing on the edge of the universe flickering in my belly.

Sometimes I can hardly speak around H. I am overwhelmed with our combined energy, and I just lay my head on his chest. Then we spin off through the galaxy. Everything flows by and through us, and he holds me and we ride the storm together. In that moment, I know I am his woman. He is my man. But there is so much else, and we are not always alone with one another. Out in the world many are attracted to us both, and the nature of our relationship is thus that we are free to follow whatever adventure calls us. We are artists, see. Artists of love and sex and all that lies in between. It would be cruel of either one of us to deny the other. Our lives must be like the brush stroke of a fine painter. Lived with passion, flourish and rich color. We are not those to conform to a relationship mold. We will break the boundaries and all the rules in the meantime.

Of course, I want to be loved. Like anyone else I crave it from the bottom of my being. The question becomes in the course of multiple relationships, am I allowing my self to find love again and can I really love any of them when I feel I love all of them?  I may be keeping them all at arm’s length. 

But Lawrence is offering me what I want tonight, a cozy night in with lots of intimacy. Besides, I enjoy his company. Even if we don’t have sex, he is so funny, we never run out of things to laugh about. 

He is making me dinner when I arrive. Something H has never done for me or allowed me to do for him (although I am a very good chef). I pour the wine I brought, and we catch up on the last few months. He knows about H. Not specifically him, but I informed him when he asked me to come over (after not hearing from him for a few months) that I am in an open relationship now. He said he was cool with it and left it at that. He isn’t asking any questions about it either.

He is thicker, more manly than when we were into our affair almost two years ago, and even since I saw him this summer. He has a short beard now which frames his pouty mouth in a charming way that makes me think of kissing, and hair in twists all over his head, pulled back in a little pony tail. He wears black designer sweatpants and those black and white sandals that every guy seems to have a pair of; it is his house and a Sunday night after all.  

After dinner we pretend to watch a movie while we snuggle on the couch.We take it slow, like teenagers. My head leaning on his thighs while he runs his hands lightly over my haunches. It makes me smile to feel him linger on the fattest part, pushing a little with his fingers to check the density of the flesh. Then he slides up to my waist enjoying the dip after my hip bone. He pets me like a cat, and I almost begin to purr. I am trying to not let my hips gyrate, so I do not seem too eager. 

With H, I can be as eager as I like. I wait for him with my ass in the air and my face in the pillow. I do what he wants before he even has to ask me, because we are so in synch, and what he wants is what I want too. But Lawrence is different. For him I must be a present tied with a complicated bow. You know you are going to get it, you know the bow will come off, you just have to put a little effort into it. Dinner was a good effort, and this snuggling is a good effort too. But I am not ready to reward him with my lasciviousness just yet. 

We shift positions to sit next to each other, my legs thrown over him with his  right hand searching for the thickest part of my thigh. He nuzzles into my neck and asks if he can kiss me. So sweet. Yes, I say, and he presses that pouty mouth against mine. His lips are buttery soft, and the kiss feels so innocent, I begin to dream of waterlilies. Then he shifts his kisses to to my throat. He covers me with that mouth and sucks in my flesh. He inhales deeply, every crevice discovered in shoulders and collar bone. He wants my breasts next. But he stops just before pulling my top down to grab around the back of my ass and give it a shake and a slap. He pulls me up to my knees on the couch so he can keep one hand in the split part of me while the other lowers my top to reveal my strawberry nipples directly in line with his mouth. He pulls one in and sucks like he wants to get milk out of it. This makes me sigh, and when he hears that, he knows the present has been unwrapped and I am his. I know it too, but I want to be adored more, so I hold in my greatest reactions, still trying to play virginal. He knows me. Knows how I can truly let go, and how I will take him on the journey with me. He working to get me there. 

Then he makes his way down my stomach and lifts my top off with a single stroke. He spends some time on my belly button, and I am sure he is gearing up to go down on me. I said to myself before I came in tonight, that if he goes down on me, I will fuck him. And he is getting ever closer by the moment. 

He teases me by laying me on the couch and pretending he is going right for it. He doesn’t. He makes another go at sucking on my nipples. Then works his way down again and slides my leggings down a little. Then he roughly flips me over to get the view of my ass being revealed. It seems like he has been thinking of this moment. He slides my pants down and lets out a grunt of satisfaction as the roundness is uncovered. Then surprises me by putting his whole face in it. I squeal! He kisses the entire surface of my bottom, biting a little, licking at places. My face is in the couch letting little Oh Fucks be buried in the cushion. Finally he pulls my leggings off entirely and I am only in a thong and knee high socks. 

He lays on top of me and dry humps against me. I feel that trunk between his legs, fully erect, shielded by the softness of his sweatpants. He is reminding me about his unusual member. And I have to admit, I have forgotten. He threads his arms under my torso and reaches for my throat. He grips lightly, knowing I like it. I almost cannot move under the weight of him, but am so turned on I can’t help but wiggle and moan like the horny slut he knows I am. I can smell him all over me, and oh that dick!. 

He sits up over me and suggests we go into the bedroom. I agree, and walk in ahead of him to give him his favorite view. When we enter he takes off his shirt and we press our bodies together. His chest is smooth like warm marble. He takes off his black sweatpants to reveal his generous hard on. Honestly, I have never seen one quite like it. I have seen bigger ones and smaller ones. I have seen more beautiful and much less attractive. But no other like this one. At the base it must be five inches around. Then it looses two inches in diameter over the next 7 or so inches as you reach the head.  That would be impressive and interesting in itself, but what is really remarkable is the shape of it. You see, it hooks with about a 30 degree angle and points up towards his navel. I have to keep my hand at the base when I give him head so it doesn’t flip up. There is no cock I have seen that could double this one. It is rare indeed, and also has some unexpected benefits about which he is eager to remind me. 

He takes my panties down to my knees and I kick them off the rest of the way. Then he lays me down on his mattress and spreads my legs for me. He inhales and dives into my pussy. His tongue zeroes in on my clit it like a tractor beam. 

I gasp in surprise of how good it feels. I love to swear out loud when I come. But I must hold back a little of that, or so I think with Lawrence. HIs relentless ability to move in circles with his tongue is proving effective. I build to a surprisingly quick light clitoral orgasm. Then he stands next to the bed, waiting for me to offer the favor back. I am too happy to. I take his unique member into my mouth starting with the tip. It is easy to let him slide into my throat because of the shape of his cock, and I almost want him to come in my hand and mouth, I am enjoying it so much. But he wants to fuck now, and I am ready too. 

We go through the usual array. Start in missionary, then doggie, then on my belly with him behind. Then he wants me on top. And this is when his dick begins to really shine. I am riding him and he is smiling at me. Smiling because he knows he is about to cause something extraordinary to happen. You see, his unusual shaped dick and its curve are perfectly suited for g-spot stimulation. I think he only just learned how to activate his super power, because I do not remember having this reaction before. 

I am coming, like I always do, but there is more. It never ends. I am rubbing up and down and back and forth on his dick, and my satisfaction is never complete, there is always more to get. I get on my feet so I am squatting over him just so I can get a better grip on the bed. I need to move faster and more. I am going like this and suddenly I have to pee. I have to pee so badly I need to stop. 

“You’re going to squirt,” he says with confidence.

For some reason this shocks me. Squirt? I have seen it in movies, but never experienced it or really thought about it that much. I don’t think so. I have to get off of him for just a second. In the bathroom, I pee a little, but nothing that should have been so urgent. 

“Get back up here,” he says, putting lube on top of the condom still laying n his back, and I do. He guides me down onto him. “Don’t be afraid. It will feel a little weird at first, but you’ll come so hard,” he says sweetly. 

The head of his dick is making me feel that feeling again. Like I have to pee. I push forward, but the sensation is too strange. It feels like a UTI and I can barely stand it. I want to stop again, but he encourages me to try to stick it out. 

Then he grips my waist and begins to help me in my movements. The pushing up with his arms is giving me lift and I begin to bounce. I feel like I am flying on his dick. His smile is back and it is lightning up the whole bed. Up and up and up I go. The feeling like I have to pee is passing, and I am getting drenched. I can only imagine the saturation Lawrence is experiencing. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, though. He just smiles and bounces me up and down. 

“Come on, girl, come on,” he says slapping my ass, and finally I do. I give him fare warning by repeating that I am going to come about 80 times, and finally I open the floodgates. I shoot out of myself like a cannon that keeps firing. I feel extended, powerful, my pleasure thrusts into everything around me. Is this is what it is like to be a man? 

I have to take him out of me for the end of it, and I ejaculate all over his dick and hips. I am vaguely concerned about drenching the bed, but I am coming way too hard to really get invested. He looks at me with such joy and admiration, I am touched. We look each other in the eyes for the end of it. Then he takes off the condom, sits up on his knees and jacks himself off to coming. I lay down underneath him, and let it rain over me while I roll around in ecstasy. 

We both leap out of bed at the end, and collapse upon each other like a steeple. We are sweating and panting and covered in moisture and the sheets are a damp ball on the soaked mattress. 

“How will you sleep?” I ask in a dulce voice I am not convinced is mine. 

“Let’s get the fan going,” he says. And we strip the bed and turn on his ceiling fan. Then we jump in the shower and soap each other up. We are kissing the whole time. He rubs lotion on me and pats me with a towel, pressing his lips on different parts of me. I do the same in return. 

“When did you learn to do that?” I ask as I am getting ready to go. 

“I can’t reveal my secrets,” he says, looking at me through the corner of his eyes. 

“Ha, ha. Fair enough,” I reply, “but keep that one in the repertoire.”