Sunday night sex

Sunday night sex

From my sex diary

Sunday night sex real womans sex diary blogHe keeps giving me new experiences when I thought I was all out… just like this recollection of Sunday night sex.

Emotion has not often been connected to sex for me. It has mostly been sex, for sex’s sake, for the moment, because it was expected, or for a variety of other reasons. There have been times of course in my life I have thought I am having sex because I love this person, but nowadays it all feels so different, more intense, more powerful, not like anything that has happened before it.

And so it was that we came to be snuggled up, curled up together watching Avatar, Sunday night last week, the final relaxation to a long week, before the new one began, I thought. Heavy working week, then a weekend full of different exertions, some pleasurable, some family issues and some personal ‘me’ rants and raves.

I laid across him the whole film, well the first half curled around him then the second half I melted across his lap… he was stroking me, my face, my hair, in that affectionate way he does. Making me feel even more kitten like and I was internally purring, loving the attention, loving the care, the feelings passing between us, contentment, affection, thoughtfulness, love.

The film finally finished and in tune with the high emotive quality of the plot, so our emotions seemed to be aligned. I sat up to straddle him and he pulled me into him, deeply kissing me… the Sunday night sex began…

His hands exploring my body, feeling between my clothes, under my clothes, seeking out my flesh and curves and everything else. At this point the room was dark, I was unaware if everyone had even left and here I was, being rather hastily undressed in the midnight hours, in the fire’s glow and possibly with an audience! He didn’t seem to be concerned as and ever, I trusted to his nature, secure in the knowledge he wouldn’t do anything that would upset me or harm me in any way. Not intentionally non-consensually anyway. Hurting me because I like it comes later 😉

He laid me down flat on the sofa. Climbed over me. My knickers dragged down my legs, not even off properly. His breath hot upon my face, against my neck, his lips hot and wanting, demanding.

I was wearing his favourite dress, I recall. These details fade in the face of the weightier memories of the feelings attached to that night. My dress… black, slinky, only semi-opaque, the sheer transparent panels giving only the faintest nod towards complete modesty. He loves me in that dress. I love his reaction to it, in every way.

The dress… dragged up and around my hips. My sex explored, roughly but with such loving roughness, fingers probing, over, between, inside… feeling for my eager wetness which readily awaited him, as always it does.

His face never left mine. Our flesh needed to meet at all times, rutting like alley animals yet the sensations passing between us were so advanced it was like we became something more than what actually is. Just pure emotion, his hot mouth to my neck, my teeth seeking his lips, our tongues lashing each others and sucking and needing, demanding and the words tumbling from our mouths, like a torrent of water over a mighty fall.

I wanted him so much, I could barely see anything else. The need and feeling flashing before my eyes stopped all other sight.

He was there, at my entrance, insistent, needing, expectant, ready, wilful and forceful. With one rise up to get properly into position he slipped straight into me… hard… and took the remaining breath from me, a talent he has using a variety of methods. I think is one of his favourites though…

We both stopped the words for what seemed like an age… our lips barely touching, all other action and exertion finished for now. This was different to all other times, something closer, not power exchange, no games, no roleplay, just he and I, sharing the sensation, fulfilling the physical realisation of our shared passion, emotion and serene, demandless and free love.

He filled me entirely and took me then, slowly, so softly and tenderly yet completing me in ways I didn’t know I had required, previously. This was new, so unexpected to me, and I loved it. I loved him. I love him.

We stayed in our personal paradise for an age, riding those feelings and tendrils of shared passion.

When finally the climax came… we couldn’t speak for so long. Our Sunday night sex was absolute perfection.




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