The Monday and Thursday Girl
Mornings we were automatic, and sometimes it seemed unstoppable. She was the first woman to let me fuck her hard. I didn’t even know what that meant until it started happening. I had seen very little porn up until then, with much of it in the novelty category of scat and bondage. I tended to seek out the stuff that was harder to find, or that was considered extreme.
Scat and bondage videos did nothing for me, but there would be moments of softness in those porns. I remember a German scat porn in particular in which a woman, after being defecated and urinated on by three men at once, cleaned herself off and delivered a long, loving, and passionate blowjob to one of those men. It was like a choir of angels rising from a war zone.
Our mornings started with softness. Our return to consciousness intersected at a pulse point. I pressed her body to mine, feeling her heart beat inside that tiny body. She pressed her hand to both sides of my neck and felt the veins pumping blood into my head.
We would kiss, deeply. I snuck in looks, opening my eyes to see hers clamped shut, her mind lost in our tongues digging deeper and deeper into each other’s mouths.
I moved her flat on her back, got on top, on my knees, rubbing my hardening cock across her stomach and teasing her cunt with it. The kisses never stopping. Her hands moved from my neck to my cock. She sweetly squeezed my balls with one hand and traced the outline of my shaft with the other.
The kissing stopped. It had to. I looked at her passioned lips and face, her normally small lips now enormous. My cock and balls in her hands felt vulnerable, but strong. She smiled, laughed a little at the logistics of the moment, and in a deliberately sweet voice whispered “Morning!”
I laughed with her, my cock as hard as could be, ready for the fucking but not before wetting myself with that sweet, wanting mouth.
It always felt like a miracle, my cock rising from the middle of her body, still grasped in her hands. The moment felt like a trophy presentation, it being presented to and raised by the victor in the same moment.
My cock neared her face. I watched as she took just a few seconds to inspect what was about to enter her mouth. She liked looking at it. She kissed the tip sometimes, not always. I would press it against her cheeks and chin sometimes. This usually made her laugh a little but sometimes she continued the gesture, pressing and rubbing it across her face and neck.
The moment when anticipation might have made me burst never quite arrived. I watched her deliver it to her mouth, slowly, taking only the tip at first, then more. She could only take about half and refused to try more. I slowly moved it in and out, thinking we and we alone had invented this act of “face fucking.”
My cock moved back and forth across the roof of her mouth. Bony and coarse it reminded me of the back of her cunt, where I sometimes imagined pulling out with abrasions. That never happened but it felt like it might.
She busily slipped her tongue all around, circling the tip repeatedly, then taking it out, pressing it to her face, and sucking the bottom shaft and kissing my balls. She was fast and hungry but we knew we had to progress. I quickly dove down, turned her body 45°, got on my knees on the floor, and pulled her body toward me.
My tongue drove across her hot, luscious clit and cunt. She writhed and screamed unintelligibly, pressing my head into her, raising her legs into the air. My head screamed inside as cool air blew across my hard cock waving in the air. She would practically pull hair out of my head at these moments. I felt her cunt pulsating and her body gyrate.
Both of us primed I pushed her body back, fully onto the mattress, and began what always seemed like an uncertain path. Would I find her cunt? Would she still want me? Would she be waiting? Did she still want more tongue inside her? Did I need more cocksucking?
The uncertainty never meant anything once we got there. Her opening was small, even narrow. From the moment of entry to being deep inside I could feel every bone in that cage. I entered carefully but once inside nothing could stop us. Her screams and moans aligned precisely with the length of my cock entering her, reaching an almost hoarse grunt when I reached all the way back. With every thrust her head turned from side to side, as if being slapped.
She wrapped her legs around me, tightening her cunt even more, almost clenching me inside her. At those moments I would stop thrusting, my cock all the way inside her, remembering how the back of her cunt felt so much like the back and roof of her mouth. Her tightness wrapped more than my cock. It wrapped my mind, my spirit, my soul.
I kissed her deep, tasting a slight whiff of my cock and the little bit of cum I’d left there earlier. That moment was triumph, feeling the back of her mouth and cunt at once, it’s like we were fucking each other two times at once.
I remember her as tight. Her cunt was tight, the kisses were like pieces of machinery clamping together, her body squeezed me hard and close. Her grip only loosened when my fucking turned to pounding. Her breasts would shake and her hair became a mess as the kissing stopped and we felt nothing but hard cock digging inside her. Her legs, earlier lifted in the air, came to rest on the mattress, surrendered.
As always, she would look at us in the mirror, turning my head so I did the same. In these moments of hard fucking she could look terrified, as could I. But then she would throw a crazed, hungry smile, turning away from the mirror and looking instead at my body, running her fingers across my face and into my mouth.
I never said it out loud but when she turned our faces to the mirror all I could think was “Am I really fucking this woman? I must be. It’s right there in front of me.”
…
Afterwards she would shower. I never did that at her place, but waited for her so we could leave together.
Emerging from the shower she would often utter her immortal words: “I feel fucked!”
Her sex was like the rest of her personality: Tight, determined, and hungry. But that was in the mornings. At night she was a whole other experience.
