Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Great Sex (Inspired by Ryan Lee)
In many ways, great sex can be likened to a great journey. Imagine the wise and mature Odysseus sailing the Aegean Sea, in search of his beloved Ithaca and his beloved Penelope. Imagine brave and young Inman battling his way across the civil-war torn south to his beloved North Carolinian plantation and his beloved Ada. Now, imagine Odysseus fucking Inman and you will have an idea of what constitutes great sex.
Great sex is a place we all seek. At some point in our lives, we finally arrive at the desired destination of great sex and for I arrived at the ripe age of twenty-five. It was then that I had the best sex of my life.
I met Johnny online. Yes, like many, I too searched the net for love and suffered loss. Johnny was a nineteen year old college student at a local all male college. He was shorter, (5'8), compact (a full six-pack complete with a 31 waist), and dreaded (not my first preference, but hey, they worked on him.)
When I met him, he gave me nothing but attitude. He constantly ran his mouth, flapped his jaws, and complained. I laughed at him and shrugged it off because I had no intentions of doing anything more than beating his back up.
And boy did I ever beat it up.
The first time we fucked, it was good, but not great. It was by no means the best sex. But I realized even then that the potential was there. Johnny was a well-endowed auditory bottom. He crooned and moaned and begged while fucking and I loved every single sound. When he called me "daddy," I melted. When he begged me to fuck him harder, I tried to knock his back out. And the harder I hit, the more he wanted.
The second time we fucked, he asked me to slap him in the mouth.
The third time we fucked, he asked me to pull his hair.
The fourth time we fucked, he asked me to hit him harder.
I slapped him playfully, but it was not what he wanted. He asked to be hit and that is exactly what he wanted. Again, I slapped him harder, this time with more force, but he wanted more. I punched him softly, yet he wanted more. I punched his back, his stomach, his thighs, his ass, and still, he wanted more.
This brutal fucking continued for several sessions. He would scream and cry and beg for me to pulverize not only his ass but his body as well. And yes, I loved every minute of it. I would cum loudly, giving into the bestial and guttural sex. It was the after-minutes that I did not love.
I felt horrible about the things I was doing to this "kid." He routinely begged to be demeaned and hurt and I fed into his need for debasement. Worse than that, I was enjoying his debasement. When I confronted Johnny with my concerns, he laughed, told me to get a condom, and then asked me to fuck him inversely (um, not sure if this is the right word, but it consisted of him on bottom, me on top, my head at his feet, and his feet at my head). He wailed in intense pain, and came all over my sheets like never before.
Johnny and I stopped messing around after a month. I met him towards the end of a semester and he ended up flunking out of college. We instant-message each other infrequently on yahoo every now and then. He once asked to move in with me so he could make his way back to Atlanta, but I told him that would be a horrible idea.
The best sex of my life took me to a place I had never been and would never like to return.