Not So Vanilla

Quote from a television show last night: “The cops ought to clamp a boot on your genitals.”  I found it hilarious–and oddly apropos.  Bootjack that cunt! (snort)  Anyway, that’s right, you read it here first: I watched TV last night. An unusual occurrence for me, but now, finally…I can see why everyone else does it.
Television watching leads to hot sex.
When I put forth this theory to A, as I leaned over him, squeezing his cock inside me and thinking of what had brought us to that moment, he looked bewildered, then shook his head and laughed. And okay, it might have sapped some of the sexy hawtness out of what we were doing.  But we bounce back quickly, and a little laughter during sex can be a good thing.  And besides, I was just so excited: an epiphany!  I had to share it.  This is why people watch TV!  “No, Jade,” he said, “only you watch TV and make it into foreplay.”
Oh.  Well then.
Actually this post was going to be about vanilla sex.  Good vanilla sex, because yes, in spite of the lackluster non-event in FL, I think it’s possible to have good vanilla sex.  Maybe not hawt sex, but good. (Some dumb boy on a dating site actually emailed me, “Damn, yer hawt! I’d luv to get to know u.”  So for today “hawt” is my new favorite word.  And for the record, no, Dumb Boy doesn’t get the joy of getting to know Jade.  You gotta have a teensie bit more going on for that to happen.)  Anyway, I am being a little facetious. I do think vanilla sex can be hot and sexy too.  I’m just sayin’: it’s hard for me to have it, even when I try.  I have had it, though, a time or two in my life. And when I stood up from the couch after whatever-it-was that we were watching, stripped off my clothes, dropped them in a pile at A’s feet and said, “I want you to fuck me,” over my shoulder as I sauntered back into the bedroom, I expected to have vanilla sex.
I don’t know why that never happens.
What did happen was this: first he pushed me back on the bed and proceeded to rape me with his mouth. Damn that man can suck pussy. Because, as you know if you have read this post, when he’s down there he is sucking my pussy and I am fucking his mouth, thrusting my clit-cock down his throat.  In my head I am a guy fucking some poor hapless girl’s mouth. She’s helpless, big-eyed and fearful, her hands tied behind her back,  and I am towering over her. The girl last night was this blonde chick from a movie I saw with W & A the other night. My hand was in her hair, holding the short, spiky strands back so I could look into her eyes, which pleaded with me to let her breathe as I shoved my cock into her throat.  I loved the way I held her head tipped so far back she could do nothing but let her mouth fall open to receive me, open her throat, no active licking or sucking on her part, just an open hole to shove my cock into.
Oh wait, I began this by saying that he raped me with his mouth, and here I am describing me doing the same to someone else.  Well, he did, holding me down when I suddenly got squirmy and tried to wriggle away when he was sucking too hard and it was too intense…and of course that was when the switch flipped, when I heard the growl in his throat and felt his hands on my thighs, pinning me, his fingers digging into my tender flesh.  Definitely no longer vanilla.
And I was reminded of another time I have been taken this way…something that seems so totally contradictory to what I think of when I think of cunnilingus…or thought of it, before I met W and he proved to me that it could be something done to me as opposed to done for me…my legs tied open, my hands in…handcuffs, was it?…me pinned back on the couch, his mouth devouring me, yes, taking me.  Raping me with his mouth. He even told me in his mind that was exactly what he was doing…raping the prison bitch…damn.  Did I say hawt yet?
Sometimes I think my dirty fantasies bleed over into A’s brain.  Because no sooner had I come (screaming gasping panting thrashing) then he flipped me around and pushed me to edge of the bed. “I’m going to fuck your mouth like you were fucking mine,” he said. And he turned me upside down and hung my head back and fucked my mouth that way, shoving his cock as deep into my throat as it would go, which is pretty far in that position. I choked and gagged; he pushed…tears and snot and spit and my stomach heaving. He didn’t do it for long, and he actually did it slow, sliding himself deeply, slowly, into my throat, but that is such a mindfuck of a position for me. No control: I might die like that, drowning or choking or gagging to death. And when he let me up I was a ball of submissive “please let me please you,” need. He wiped my tears and I knelt between his legs and took him in my mouth, me in control this time, at least nominally, sliding my hand down his slick, wet shaft with my mouth following, doing all the things that I know please him best.
Okay, so this was pretty vanilla. Until he said, “Remember how you got me off that first time?”
And suddenly it wasn’t vanilla anymore at all. But that’s a tale for another post.