Jordan

My Ass?

We got there. I was drained, and pissed at myself for being drained. I just couldn’t keep up with this guy. I don’t care how much he kept claiming it’s the other way around.

But we did have a whole night ahead. Although in the back of my mind I increasingly cared less and less about competing with him. Sex and relationships for me had always been tests of will. And I had always won.

Other than with Jordan. But why did losing with him, to him, feel so good? Every damned time?

And it was almost like the quicker he conquered me, the better I felt. And the prouder I was. Of losing?

And I was still holding back one big mystery, that I had no idea how to explain.

To him, to me, to anyone.

I had slipped away to try to think through things, with my girl, with Jordan, with life. Just the day before. Even if that did already feel like years ago.

Right after I unloaded in him, which was odd in itself. Because sex almost always left me tired, and worn out. Except with Jordan. With Jordan it almost seemed like a door, with me only halfway brave enough to try to figure out what it was opening onto.

So sure, it was football season, but basketball was still more relaxing to me, so I slipped in the empty gym to shoot a few baskets. May sound cocky, but I was pretty good, so it wasn’t really all that surprising that I was hitting most of them, almost no matter where I shot from.

But then it hit me how strange it was, that almost the more I thought of Jordan, the more perfect my shooting was. With the ball not hitting the rim at all. Just the net.

I even halfway tried to miss one. That was the only thing I failed at.

I was sure he couldn’t have that kind of control over me.

But I was also getting more and more energized, somehow. Even though the fucker had already worked so many loads out of me that day that I almost didn’t dare count them. And even the thought that I knew he was bound to work even more out didn’t feel threatening. At all.

Fuck. I did some lay-ups. They were even easier. And the only thing that seemed clear was that Jordan was a door for me. Not a check-mark fuck. Made me feel even more guilty about checking the box nightly with my girl. Or all those stupid fucks with others along the way.

They all seemed so stupid now.

I knew I needed to get back. So I wondered. Hell. Why not?

I tried one slam dunk. I was good. But never quite that good. Never. Always missed it somehow. And always told myself it didn’t really matter.

But nobody was around, so what did I have to lose?

Naïve me.

I have no idea what happened.

It can’t really have been the easiest basket in my life. But it sure as hell felt like it.

No idea how I cleared the ground that high. No idea how it went in so damned easily.

I almost wondered whether I had acquired wings.

I was way too methodical at sports to want to deal with it. At least not now.

Jordan wasn’t even a basketball player. God help me if he started doing his wrestling moves.

So how could it have anything to do with him?

But I knew it did.

Damn.

Was that good?

Was that terrifying?

As we entered the trailer. Round two.

He had already drained me. Fucking adorable him. And somehow increasingly more adorable with every single fuck.

Wasn’t he supposed to be looking worn out? Even as I almost felt my balls making more cum.

How the hell had he made me feel like I was shooting, even when I wasn’t?

And then his gorgeous little smile, asking me for one little favor.

God that made me happy. I would have said yes. To anything.

And there I was.

Stripped on the bed. On my back. Feeling like a happy slut who was finally going to get the fuck she wanted.

Damn I loved him.

As he went down. No. No. What was he doing?

As I felt him kiss my ass.

I was not gay. I was sure as hell not a bottom.

But oh my god. His lips on my hole. And the fucker was even being gentle.

My damned ass felt like some virgin girl’s lips must feel like when she finally gets a first kiss.

I tried to be calm.

He kissed it more. And more.

Damn. And I knew why he wasn’t sore. no matter how hard I fucked him.

He pushed my arms down. “Just relax.”

Bitch.

I was going crazy.

And then his tongue went in.

I was trying so hard to be calm. I was dying to beg him to fuck me.

God damn. His entire tongue had to have been in there. And still so damned gentle.

My cock gave me away.

He held it down, no matter how bad it wanted to stick straight up.

Yet again, I was surrendering.

He bit me.

Fuck.

Who taught him all this shit?

My cock wanted to shoot. Even if it was empty. From having him bite my ass?

And then he kissed it. Again.

He really wasn’t going to fuck me.

And here I was wanting to be pregnant. With his kid.

I couldn’t. Can you imagine what a gorgeous kid that baby would be?

I didn’t even know how to surrender anymore.

He spread my cheeks further. And further.

The fucker could have fisted me, had he known that was a thing.

Did he know that was a thing?

Fucking virgin. My ass.

And then he went back. To gentle kissing.

I swear my ass had an orgasm.

Just like girls I had fucked.

That can’t be a thing.

And he just kept kissing me. All the way through it.

I was his shameless bitch.

And then he quietly crawled up, beside me.

I was spent. And respent. And spent again.

And he kissed me so so gently.

I was his fucking girl.

And we drifted off to sleep…