Please stand by

"Hey babe?" he says, looking up from his intense concentration in fingering me.

"mmmm" is all I'm capable of replying.

"I want to fuck you doggy-style, with your bra on, while I'm pulling your hair."

Good thing I don't feel like turning him down, because I'm not really capable of it at this point.

It started after dinner. Jay and I had cuddled on the couch for a while, but he was complaining of being tired, so we changed venues and headed to my bed. The bed is much nicer than what it was when he was still living with me. I bought a new mattress for my birthday, and so my bed is probably the most comfortable place in the house. I couldn't blame him for wanting to relocate.

For once I was hornier than Jay, and as I started kissing him I mentioned the fact that I think he's seeing me too much; he's been far too easily able to keep his hands off of me. He chuckled a bit and allowed as I might have a point, but didn't stop my attempts to entice him.

Soon enough, my clothes were being stripped off - first my jeans and underwear, then my shirt, but not my bra, to my great surprise. Jay has told me repeatedly that he loves playing with my tits, and indeed he was, through the bra, but he usually takes that off too. I asked him about it; he replied that he felt like leaving it on, and that was that. I didn't ask again.

Jay also has this near-obsession with making me cum at least once before he fucks me. Far be it from me to complain. This usually takes the form of fingering. He says that he likes my reaction to it, which usually involves the following: not being able to speak coherently, tensing of muscles, moaning, groaning, toe-curling, and an epileptic-style seizure upon orgasm. It was during this point of the process of foreplay that he made the opening remark to me.

He went over to my dresser to grab a condom, put it on, then flipped me over and informed me that I was to get on all fours. I complied, slowly; I was still a bit caught up in the earlier fun. I'm too tall for that position to be really comfortable for me - everything is too long, not just my legs. I hate to say it, but if you've seen the photos of that statue that's supposedly of Britney Spears giving birth, my position kind of looked like that - you know, with a bra on, and without the whole "pregnant and giving birth" option.

Jay reached up and grabbed a hunk of my hair, making me pull my head up and arch my back, and started trying to fuck me. I hissed a bit; the position was stretching my vulva in less-than-optimal ways, and so the insertion of a hard cock wasn't the most pleasureable thing at that point. Jay pulled harder on my hair and pulled out, and then I heard a soft "well fuck."

I swiveled my head around.

"I hate being a guy."

And why is that, Jay.

"Because orgasm and ejaculation aren't the same thing. My dick is stupid. I guess fulfilling that fantasy was a little too much for it."

The poor boy. He took the condom off and we both watched his deflating dick. I made a remark about having technical difficulties, and cuddled up next to him to reassure him that I was not put out about the matter. I was half-asleep when I felt Jay get up, come back to bed, flip me onto my back, and proceed to fuck me stupid. Apparently the technical difficulties were solved, because we were both rewarded for our patience with a simultaneous orgasm.

And in the morning, he did it again.