One time we stopped at a house to pick up furniture. It was the home of former family members (long story). They were not home, but gave us a key and told us to go and get the pieces. We had been groping in the car for the entire trip out to their house. By the time we got there, we were aching for each other. Before I knew it Jack had me undressed and pinned to the floor of the dining room/living room. It was naughty which just added to the ecstasy. We fucked so hard we had rug burns and I thought for sure we damaged the rug. We knew that the uptight occupants would have been shocked to find us in flagrante delicto. I am sure the place smelled of sex for a long time afterwards. On the way home we were still so crazed that we had to pull over the car, in a subdivision still under construction, and have each other again in the front seat. The memory gives me goosebumps. Back then, each and every time we fucked (which for the first years was pretty much daily) I remember being both surprised and delighted at the size of his cock. He wasn’t only long enough to hit bottom, he was thick enough to fill me perfectly.

More later

I open my eyes. It is late morning and the sounds of smaller footsteps drum over our heads. I look over through a cloud of hair and he is awake, shirtless and on his side. He is laying on his bent arm, watching me with his bedroom eyes again. Glinting blue and black, willing me awake. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Hi.” When he looks at me like this, it always gives me a jolt at the center of my chest, and up my spine.

I smile, stretch and take inventory. He waits, knowing it will take me a few moments to fully spin up. I can feel that my cheeks under me are still pink. My stomach, arm, thigh and shoulder muscles are tight. My wrists feel as if there is still something holding them. I am not sore, but sensitive. I am enjoying the feeling. I flex and stretch to fully delight in it. I think of how I earned every bit of it and my usual morning arousal heightens. I rub my legs together, arch a little and the sense of need rises. My tight boy-cut panties appear to be trying to escape on their own. My legs are as usual uncovered, and when I throw aside the light sheet over my torso, my lacy tank has climbed up to become a flimsy bra holding back hardening nipples. He looks at me, smiles that sly little crooked grin and says “Oh, Hi!” I turn towards him and find my voice. “Hi,” I exhale.

We calculate the amount of time we have until the smaller footsteps will come skipping towards our room. We are hidden behind bookshelves, buying us time to duck and cover. We waste none of this time.

Some women are aggressive in bed, and like to be in control. Other women (or, excitingly sometimes the same women) want to be controlled in bed. While both schools of thought have their advantages, my preference runs toward the latter. How do you know which way your lover leans? Try this: Hand her a pair of handcuffs and tell her to put them on.

If she refuses, she’s unwilling to spontaneously lose control with you. Deal with it.

If she locks herself in with her hands cuffed in front of her body, she’s likely to be up for some play, but won’t be ready to completely let go. Be prepared to invest some time building trust to the point where she can really cut loose with you.

If she puts them on with her hands restrained behind her back, congratulations! You’ve found a woman who’s willing to give herself to you unreservedly. Marry her, quick, if you haven’t already.