When I was having an affair with my best friend’s dad, he liked to have his dick inside me even when we weren’t actively having sex. Isn’t that weird? He said he liked the idea of me being “full.”
He’d have me sit on his lap at the desk in his lake house facing away from him, towards the large monitor on his desk. He’d make me try to write papers that way, for as long as I could stand it. I wasn’t supposed to move my hips at all or ride him, but the impulse once he was inside me was almost uncontrollable. I couldn’t stand not to.
“Just a few lines,” he’d say.
“I literally can’t make my brain function right now.”
It was the truth. How could I make any sense of Schopenhauer with my cloudy sex brain. It was like trying to write high — I didn’t have the clarity or the desire to do anything but give in to temptation.
I’d wiggle a little bit and pretend it was an accident, or that I was just adjusting. The sensation made it difficult for him too. I’d take his hands in mine and trail them along my thighs, or use them to cup my breasts, my hands on his. This was cheating too, but he was more lenient about it. And it worked him up to the point where he’d start moving his hips too and we could finally start having sex the way my whole body was screaming for us too.
When he was more stern he’d lift me off of his lap and slap my ass before making me start all over. I loved it.
He fantasized about holding me like this while I gave oral to another guy. Something about feeling like I was his and he could do whatever he wanted to with me, even have me pleasure someone else. I couldn’t deny that the idea did something pleasing to me when I visualized it, but I was young then and we had enough new stuff to try. Now I wish I’d let him.
Another time he guided my rhythm the entire time by pinching my nipples as I rode him this way. Pinching and pulling them away from my body to signal me to move forward, or relaxing his fingers so I could move back.
One day I showed up and he had a present for me. A rectangular box with a little bow wrapped around it.
I smiled. This was sweet.
“What is it?”
“I bought you a gift. Something for us to do tonight.” A sex toy?
When I unwrapped it I was confused. It was a puzzle. Not even a very difficult one, just a 50-piece one of a photo of Degas’ Trefl Dancers in Blue, my favorite.
I searched his face, trying to figure out what was going on. Was he injured? Were we not hooking up this weekend?
“You’re going to do this puzzle while you sit in my lap like a good girl.”
I groaned. I don’t think he understood how difficult this was going to be for me.
“I bought you an easy one, you’re smart, it won’t take you long. And then you’ll get a reward.” He could be so cheesy.
“I’ll try. But I won’t be able to finish it.”
We stripped and he sat down at a chair in front of the dinning room table, the puzzle spread out in front of him. he pulled me towards him by my hips and slid a hand between my legs, slowly tracing the outline of my clit, warming me up. “I love watching you try not to enjoy yourself,” it was a mumble, he was focused on my lady parts. Pulling me closer he kissed the top area outside my labia with a soft peck and then slid his tongue in between my lips. I couldn’t receive oral standing up, my knees always buckled so he left it at that, turning me around so I could slowly lower myself onto him.
This was always the worst part. Any girl will tell you one of the best parts of sex is the very first time a guy’s cock goes into you. That first insertion. When you remember exactly how fucking great sex feels.
I immediately wanted to bounce or grind or otherwise do anything to cause friction, but I knew I was in this for the long haul tonight. So I sat there, perched on his lap, trying to ignore every biological impulse that millions of years of evolution has put in my body, working on a damn puzzle.
I managed to put at least three pieces together with each corner piece before I turned around to gauge Steve’s facial expression. The slight movement triggered me, I realized felt very slippery, this whole anticipation thing was working. He stared back at me, focused. He wasn’t breaking.
I hated this. I could smell him when I was this close — he always smelled intoxicating, not like a spray or anything just manly — like soap and sweat. I was so close to scratching my inch, he was already there, just thrust a few times, use one of those big masculine hands to help a girl out. Come on.
I tried to do the puzzle faster. Lining up the edge pieces that went along with the corners so I had a skeleton. It’s a small puzzle, not much left. You know, except the other 35 pieces. I focused on the dancer’s faces, there were only so many pieces with the face and hair on them and it was easy to see how they went together specifically. He moved his hands from my hips to my ass and just moved them around, rubbing and grabbing as the fancy struck him. I squirmed.
I stood up slowly, feeling how slick his dick was as it came out of me.
I obliged, grabbing the sides of the table. He spanked me.
“Sit back down now. Try not to move, Adrienne.”
The hard part again. I grabbed his cock and guided it into me again as I sat. I needed to finish this.
Despite knowing what his answer would be, I urged him anyway, “Can we please finish after? I want to fuck you so bad.”
“You’re almost done, and besides, I’m enjoying the view.” His hands were rubbing my ass again. I couldn’t help but move a little. He didn’t stop me this time. He was losing control too. He always got off on spanking me. I could goad him into finishing me off.
“You know how fucking sexy I think you are when you’re slapping my ass. You can feel how wet you make me.”
His breathing became slower, more deliberate. I started to move slightly, and again, he didn’t stop me. He silently let me continue my dirty talk persuasion.
“You have no idea how fucking bad I want you to fuck me right now. I need you.” I never felt confident that my dirty talk was actually sexy but I just said whatever came into my head and he seemed to like it, so I kept going.
“Come on, fuck me.” With that last urge, he finally broke.
I took his hands and mine and placed one on my breast, making him grab me and the other between my legs, forcing his middle finger to rub my clit. He started moving underneath me, inching forward and back.
He lifted me up and I swept all those puzzle pieces off the table and climbed on, laying on my back. He grabbed me legs and pulled me forward so that my butt was on the very edge of the table. Holding my legs far apart he again entered me, this time with purpose, pumping hard.
I reached down and rubbed myself as he thrusted into me. The pleasure was already spreading through my body — maybe there was something to this delayed gratification thing. He groaned, he enjoyed watching me touch myself and being able to pleasure himself with my body while he did.
I could feel him pulsing inside me as he picked up speed, the anticipation of his imminent orgasm put me over the edge. I stretched one hand on the table behind my head as I moaned and arched my back as far as I could on the hard table, finally giving into my body. Steve dropped my legs and bent down, resting his elbows on either side of me so he could feel my body underneath his as he came. With a final thrust I felt him cum, making an extremely pleasurable sound as he did, his mouth pressed just below my ear, breathing heat onto my neck.
Afterwards we put the puzzle pieces back in the box and I forgot about it until I got a package with no return address on it a few weeks later. It was the completed puzzle, framed. Something to hang on my dorm room wall and feel a twinge of excitement from every time I look at it.