Saturday Night Living

"Wanna fool around?"

I was lying on the couch; Amy was on top of me. She responded: "I thought you wanted to watch SNL."

I had wanted to, ever since I'd found out that Scarlett Johansson was hosting and Bjork was the musical guest. That's a lot of hotness squeezed into one standard-definition TV screen. How could I resist?

But then the show started, and Scarlett hit the stage for the opening monologue in a black mini-skirtish sort of number with a neckline that was — and I'm sure this was purely coincidence — designed to accentuate her beautiful, um, tracts of land. And then there were the black stockings. Oh, and pumps with four-inch heels. I barely remember the skit (she sung something with an actor doing Sanjaya). Once Scarlett was on stage, all I could think about was doing Amy.

I explained it much more simply to Amy: "I did want to watch it ... until I saw Scarlett. Now I just want to fool around."

"Um ... Okay."

+++
In case you didn't pick it up from her response, Amy wasn't fully on board. Maybe she felt some innate pressure since it was technically still (for the next few minutes, anyway) the anniversary of when we met.

It used to bug me a lot when Amy would "concede" to sex. "Never mind" would be my passive-aggressive reaction. But my thinking has evolved over time such that I've come to terms with this. I now understand that sometimes — sometimes, mind you — it's okay to go ahead and take when the giver is not gung-ho but still willing to go with it.

It's probably not an apt comparison, but there are plenty of other areas in our lives where I happily concede to do things for Amy that I'm not thrilled about. Shopping for clothes for her comes to mind — but not for the reason you might figure. I love shopping for clothes with her. But these days, my job on shopping excursions is de facto babysitter, keeping the kids from bothering her too much so that she can accomplish something. I happily make dinners she likes that I'm not necessarily wild about. I really have no interest in gardening, but I obediently play her weekend worker-bee as she plants and weeds in our yard. (To put it in more sexual terms, her gardening libido is much stronger than mine.¹)

These examples I bring up are, of course, the typical sort of give-and-take concessions that anyone in a healthy relationship regularly performs. So why does sex seem different?

Your response might be: "Well, Denis, sex should be more than an errand, more than a chore." Well, yeah. Ideally sex is an intimate, enthusiastic act that helps people connect on a romantic, or carnal, or — dare I say — spiritual level. But let's face it, for some women (and some men), sex is, on some occasions, an obligatory part of the relationship, performed for the good of the relationship. So while it might be a little pathetic to compare my conceding to weed a flower bed to my wife conceding to fuck me, when you get down to brass tacks, that's just the way it goes sometimes.

I had a good (female) friend once who joked about how, sometimes late at night when her husband was rearin' to go, she'd tell him: "You can do anything you want to me — just don't wake me up." She admitted that there was an underlying truth to the joke: She would occasionally consent to sex when she wasn't really into it. And that was fine. As long as the rest of the relationship is relatively healthy, and as long as it doesn't always seem like drudgery, one-sided sex is perfectly acceptable. (This is probably not a revelation to many of you; for me, guilt-ridden and over-libidoed, it's a relatively new concept for me to struggle with.)

And who knows: Once things get going, maybe she'll like it! In fact, when these circumstances arise, she often does. Which brings me to thought (or "justification," if you prefer) number two: On occasions when I am aware that Amy has agreed to sex with a degree of ambivalence, let it be known that I work my ass off to make sure it's worth her while. Ha — that statement sounds like a distant cousin to that age-old (and hilarious) belief that some men have: "If I could just sleep with that hot lesbian, I could turn her straight!" While I might not succeed every time, my chances of success are much better than those idiots'.

+++
"Did you see if we got a package today?" Amy asked as we tossed the back couch cushions onto the floor so that we could lie side-by-side.

I knew what she was really asking. "You mean, did we get the next movie?" We'd ordered another porn video, but it hadn't arrived yet. The very fact that she was asking indicated to me that she was looking for "assistance," an arousal pick-me-up. "Do you want to watch one of our other ones?" I asked.

"No, that's fine. I just wondered."

We started with gentle kissing. I was thinking momentarily about what it was like to kiss her that first time all those years ago. Either too much time has passed or my brain wasn't up to the task, but I couldn't really recapture that experience in my head. Part of the problem with my failed reverie was that Amy had removed her shirt, and her breasts were now sort of spilling delectably out of her bra. I paid them considerable attention, working along the edge of the bra with tongue and teeth. Then to the neck, then back to her mouth, then an ear ... nice and slow. Amy released the bra's front clasp, and I pulled back the bra with my teeth. Some tonguing of her nipples, and I was starting to hear actual sounds of interest.

She rolled me on my back, sat up, and then laid back on my legs. She kicked in the air as she pulled off her jeans and panties in one motion, and then, lying back, spread wide. There wasn't much I could do with her on top of my legs! Awkwardly, I pulled them out from underneath her (I wondered if this clumsy seduction hearkened back to our first night together!) and removed my own jeans. My dick bobbed and pointed like Dionysus' own divining rod ... right to where my mouth wanted to be.

I sucked and nibbled on her labia, working them open and finding Amy's clit. I began working my tongue flat against her, slow circles, occasionally throwing in more pointed tongue-dances down the length of her slit. I thought she was getting into it when all of a sudden, she said:

"Do you know what I want to see?"

I looked up from between her legs. "What?"

"I want to see that scene from that movie we watched the other night, when he has her tied up."

Her wish; my command. Off I went to retrieve The Masseuse, along with the lube.

Here was an odd situation: I was more interested in playing with Amy than watching the movie. I can't recall her ever being more into the porn than me. Oh, I found ways to amuse myself. Moving slightly to one side, I pushed my dick toward her mouth, and it was willingly accepted and lightly sucked while she watched. She occasionally looked up at me, smiled, and ran her tongue up and down the shaft before returning her focus to the movie.

I went down on her again and then moved into a position where I could tease her clit with the head of my cock. Amy picked right up on this, grabbing the dick herself and "using" me to masturbate. I love it when she does this, when she makes it more about her pleasure than mine. I would occasionally glance at the screen, but 95% of the time, I was watching Amy get into the scene.

At one point, I buried my head in her neck again. I whispered: "Tell me what's happening."

"She's sucking his cock now," Amy said. This was the final shot of the scene: While still tied to her crossbar, Jenna's mouth is fucked until Justin unloads a creamy cumshot on her mouth and chin. Just like the first time she watched this scene, Amy was impressed. She pushed my cock the rest of the way inside her. The scene over, we moved down on the couch and picked up our own tempo.

"So," I asked, "would you like to be tied up like that sometime?"

"Um ... Yeah," she said, as if the thought of it was both revelatory and genuinely arousing.

"I'll make sure that happens sometime soon," I said.

She reached down between us and began masturbating as we fucked.

"Yeah," I whispered, moving up so she could get her hands down there, and so I could watch. "Bring yourself off. I wanna see you come."

She worked herself for awhile as I continued my slow fucking, but then she abandoned that in favor of pulling me back on top of her. I was close to coming already from watching her, and this dramatic move on her part finished me off. I felt my cock pulse five or six times deep inside her.

"You aren't finished!" I announced heroically, and we both laughed as I made my way back down her belly, found her clit, and began a no-nonsense muffing that brought her to a quick and jerky climax.

She sighed. Stretched out on the couch. Accepted my head in the crook of her shoulder. And said: "So .... You wanna go back to watching Saturday Night Live?"

I didn't. I was certain that the show's mediocre quality would interfere with the moment we had just had. (Turns out I was right: I finished watching the episode last night, and it was horrendous.) We went to bed.

At the risk of being too nostalgic over the last 48 hours, I said to her one last time in bed: "I'm really glad you agreed to kiss me that night." She mumbled something affirmative, but she was already falling asleep.

It hadn't been a fireworks-inducing evening, like it might have been in, say, 1991. But really, is that even possible? There's no question that the way we love each other has changed as we've taken on different roles in different chapters of our life together. But there's also no question that the intensity of my love for this woman — and, let's face it, the sheer carnal lust for her — has not abated one iota.

--
¹ Let's stretch the metaphor too far: I'm not a size queen or anything, but my wife has a very large green thumb! [Return]

Big-Titted Muses

God bless grandmas — especially the ones who offer your children an occasional "sleepover." Only one of our two kids was out of the house Saturday night ... but that didn't stop Amy and me from tacitly agreeing that it would be a night of raunch.

One problem: The kid taken off our hands was not the one lately having trouble sleeping. It was past 10:30 before Amy and I were the only conscious humans in the house. The bedtime process exhausted us. I assumed Amy was beyond "recovery" for sex, but she surprised me by asking to be woken up with an episode of The Black Donnellys. ("It is St. Patrick's day, after all," she explained.)

"I'm sorry this evening isn't turning out the way we'd hoped," Amy said after the show. She was stroking my head in her lap.

"What were you hoping for, exactly?" I inquired.

"Oh ... I was thinking we'd watch a porno...."

We stared at a muted television playing some South By Southwest band I had lost interest in. I debated internally whether to reveal my fun secret.

"Well ..." I started, "I do have something on my computer that I've been saving to show you. It's the greatest blowjob I've ever seen filmed."

I always feel weird about revealing to Amy that I've been looking at porn, even though she's totally cool with it. She knows I masturbate a lot, and that I use "educational materials" accordingly. Still, it feels a little ... seedy.

"Okay," she said, sounding genuinely interested. "But ... You shouldn't have that stuff on your computer."

"I know. This is the only thing. I just put it on there for you to see, and then its gone."

"'Cause you don't want someone finding that by accident and being forced to fire you."

"No, you're right. It's gone after tonight. So ... You want to see it?"

"Oh yeah, sure," she said. She went to get a snack while I opened the laptop.

The video is a semi-amateur thing — meaning that the women in it are probably in the industry, either as dancers or as low-level porn actresses, but this is an improvised, small-time, Internet-only cheapie, shot with a single handheld consumer camera in a nondescript bedroom. The cameraman talks way too much, making inane smalltalk and frat-boy comments. Most of the videos I've seen by this guy is ruined by his bullshit logorrhea.

But this one video transcends his blathering.

The stars are two (naturally) large-breasted women. ("So it's a real departure for me!" I explained to Amy.) They spend the first one-third of the video playing with each other's breasts, adeptly incorporating baby oil, hands and mouths. I skipped this part for Amy's viewing and cued it to the point where the male is introduced. The women give his (large and very nice) cock a tandem blowjob. Both women are then fucked in numerous positions while they continue to kiss or play with each other's tits or go down on each other. It concludes with a money shot on their tits.

Pretty basic, vanilla stuff. Except ... Except for that blowjob. You see, these two women have sizzling chemistry. I'm not a huge fan of girl-girl, but what these women essentially do, as the guy is reclined on his back, is have an incendiary makeout session ... and the guy's dick just happens to be perched between their mouths. Their kissing is wet, wild, slow ... almost longing. They savor each other. And ... yeah, there's this huge cock that, almost as a side-effect, gets sucked.

The moment this video becomes worth every penny (even if I did download it for free) is when both men — the one in front of the camera and the one behind — unconsciously cease their nonstop chatter. Suddenly, there is silence, except for the moist sound of lips sucking on lips ... lips sucking on cock ... under-the-breath alto moans. In the span of fifteen seconds, these two lovers instantly own the room, the camera, the cock.

Two minutes later, they break with a nervous giggle; they sense the sea-change. "How's that?" One of them asks. The cameraman/director, clearly caught off guard, is almost speechless, outside of a couple of "Holy fucks." He says that he has filmed probably 1,000 scenes, and this is easily the hottest blowjob he has ever witnessed. I've probably watched that many scenes, and I don't doubt for a minute that he's right.

Amy, watching, clearly agreed. The video is broken up into four files, and this amazing head (later continued with the two women on their knees and shot from the suckee's point of view) happens in the part two. When it ended, I asked Amy: "You wanna keep going?"

"Yes!" she said, enthusiastically.

"You know," I added as I get part three open and running, "if you ever want to set something like this up for me...." She laughed.

We continued watching the whole thing, through all the fucking (both of these women have larger-than-your-usual-pornstar asses — it makes it that much better when they get fucked from behind), right up to the payoff. Just for good measure, the women have one last passionate soulkiss as their cum-covered tits rub together.

(For those interested, I've provided a link to the teaser page for this video in the comments section of this entry.)

The video over, Amy wordlessly popped off the couch and walked around the living room, dining room and kitchen, turning off lights. "After that, you probably want the lights on, though," she considered.

"There's plenty of light," I said, knowing outside ambient light would cast the room in a nice, cool blue wash.

Amy sat down on my lap, straddling me, and began a passionate kiss. Shortly, her top came off. "You get to enjoy my new bra," she said. Few things are hotter than a really well-fitted bra. I played with her covered tits until she popped the front closure and pushed a nipple into my mouth. I'm not sure if it was the focus the video put on my predilection for tit-play or if she was just that turned on, but the she was making tonight about her breasts. She and I shared one of her nipples for awhile, semi-recreating the makeout blowjob we'd seen, with a nipple in place of a cock.

She slid down off my lap, pulled off my pants. So typical of Amy: She never takes my pants off and then my underwear — they always come off together, getting her to the "prize "faster. She rubbed one tit, then the other, up and down my shaft. Finally, her mouth enveloped me, and she primed me with wetness and warmth. She wrapped her breasts around my cock and absorbed my hip thrusts. She seemed to want me to fuck her tits, but she kept coming back to sucking on my dick. At one point, she slowed down and tried her best to re-create a solo version of what the young ladies earlier had accomplished. "I'm imagining you teaming up with someone else as you do that," I suggested.

She stood up, pulled off her pants, straddled me again, pressing her wet cunt against my dick, and sliding up and down. "Am I catching your clit?" I asked her. She moaned in the affirmative. "Use my cock," I encouraged. "Use me to get yourself off." She tried, but what Amy really wanted became obvious when she stood up on the couch and pushed her pussy in my face.

I went to town. So did she, rubbing her cunt all over my mouth, and finally collapsing sideways onto her back — but taking care to keep my mouth in full contact with her clit through the fall. From this position, I brought her to an intense, bucking orgasm.

After a short rest, I asked, "More?" hoping to get to eat her out again.

"More with something else," she said.

I got up on my knees and pushed into her, starting slow and building a rhythm.

"Tell me what else you liked about that video," she ordered.

"I loved their asses," I said. "Nice, big asses, made for fucking."

Amy giggled and kissed me. "How come you never see a video where women are lusting after a man with a big ass?" I had no good answer to that. I was laughing too hard anyway.

I continued: "I have to think it was a good thing that guy didn't fuck 'em in the ass."

"He was huge," Amy said, stating the obvious.

"And I know they're passé, but I loved the one woman's back tattoo," I said. "It's so ... slutty."

Amy laughed. "Don't put too fine a point on it!"

"I'm serious!" I said. Our hips were starting to pick up speed. "You know, you can get temporary tattoos like that," I said, remembering the image of Penelope on her and Odysseus' blog. "You should try one sometime. Then you can be my whore." We both laughed, and things ratcheted up into another gear. I reiterated: "I would fuck my whore." She moaned and pushed back against me harder.

I pulled away and said, "Let's try reverse cowgirl, so I can watch your gorgeous ass."

"I love the way you call it by it's 'official name,'" Amy said with a roll of her eyes.

"What? That's what it's called!"

"I know," she said, straddling my legs, lowering herself onto my cock. "But .... Mmmmmmmmm."

This was a very good position for Amy. She really started getting vocal now. But her thighs weren't holding up; she had to beg off long before either of us wanted her to. Instead, she took up on her hands and knees, on the couch. I took a moment to admire the view before sinking into her once again.

At some point, I found the right spot. "Oh yeah," she panted. "Right there."

I really wanted some talk tonight. "This the way you like to be fucked?" I said.

"Yes!"

"I can tell. Come on, fuck me back." Her rocking became more punctuated. Then I held her ass still while I pulled out, just the tip still in her folds ... and I slammed home.

"Oh God, yes!"

Well, that worked. I tried it again.

"Uhhh. Yes!"

I gathered my strength and fucked her hard with those same long strokes, but faster. And harder. I wanted to hear how loud I could make the hollow clap of my hips hitting her ass. The sound competed with her rhythmic screams. I could tell she was on the verge of new territory. I upped the ante, measuring my palm against her ass, and I came down hard with a slap.

"You know where I'm gonna come?" I hissed.

"Where?"

I slapped her ass again. "I'm gonna come all over your tits."

"Yes, please come on my tits! I love your come on my tits!"

That was the last thing she was able to say. This was just about my highest gear. The only reason I hadn't already come was because I had become momentarily preoccupied with the thought of how incredibly sore my already-wobbly legs were going to be on Monday. Amy brought me back to the moment with sounds I'd never heard before — simultaneously guttural and high-pitched. Was this it? The closest she'd ever been?

Her seeming transcendant state put me over the top. I laughed as I shot my load deep into her: There was no way I was going to pull out of her for the promised breast cumshot. My cock needed to be buried right where it was.

And after we'd come down, our panting the only sound in the room, I realized: I would have been hard-pressed to pull out at all. My hard-on was in a vice grip.

"Jesus, Amy ... You're pussy is holding onto my cock."

This never happens. I mean, she doesn't work to keep those muscles toned. But something had happened.

"I can't relax," she said. Funny, because at that moment, she was probably more relaxed than she'd been in ages. Just ... not her cunt muscles.

We finally were able to disengage, and she fell back into my arms, her eyes closed, her hands searching for my face, her lips devouring mine.

I asked: "Did you actually come?"

"I think so," she said. "If not, it was the closest. For the first time ever, I was able to lose myself and let a door open that I never let open before."

"Damn," I whispered. "Let's work on keeping that door ajar."

"It's funny that, after 16 years together, we're still searching for the ever elusive orgasm-while-fucking," she observed.

"I think it's pretty great," I said, "that we still have a goal like that after 16 years. Most couples have played it all out by then."

We hobbled to the bedroom, leaving all our clothes and the couch pillows all over the living room floor. If we'd tried bending down to pick that stuff up, I doubt we would have been able to get back up again.

Her, Um, Cup Runneth Over.

Against our better judgment, here we were on another late night — it was 1:00 a.m. — with a kid still not sleeping well, and we were starting something. What the hell were we thinking? A night or two in a row like this can ruin Amy, putting her off her game for several days. She really, really needs her sleep. Apparently on Sunday night, she also needed better judgment.

"Think we can each have orgasms in less than ten minutes?" Amy asked. I promised. This would have to be shorter than Friday night, which had put us both at a point of major exhaustion for the rest of the weekend.

So in the name of brevity — and in keeping with my personal vow to make sure she got "Ye Olde Big O" this time (no more of that feinting orgasm bullshit) — I quickly established a good, rhythmic melody on her clit with my tongue. It's empowering to me that, when I want to, I can bring Amy off very quickly. Sure enough, in very little time, her right hand was down by my face, her middle and ring fingers rubbing against her pubic bone in quick circles, not unlike my tongue. There was no equivocation this time when she went up and over the top: Her whole body shuddered, and she "tossed" my head with her involuntary hip thrusts. My neck was gonna be a little sore the next morning. I'll take it, thanks.

I came up and kissed her. She was feeling too tired to go down on me, so she suggested we fuck. "But be warned, my sexual energy isn't very high right now."

"Maybe we shouldn't?" I asked. If she's not gonna be into it...

"No, it's okay," she insisted. "Just ... I need to move down. I'm tired of my head hitting the top of the bed."

I did her one better: I stood up next to the bed, grabbed her legs, and yanked her all the way across, until her hips were on the mattress edge. Her legs up in the air, my cock pushed into her.

"Easy, easy," she coaxed. I was a little excited ... carrying enough sexual energy for the both of us, I suppose. The position was great, because two feet behind me was a wall. I could brace my feet against that, giving me fantastic leverage as I fucked her.

And then I found ... The Angle. That one slight tweak to my position that sent my cock up and against her g-spot. I had flipped a switch: She was ON now, fucking me back. Even throwing in a few "Oh-yes-yes" breaths along the way. This ride had suddenly gotten good and bumpy and a helluva lot of fun.

Shortly, my legs locked, my butt stiffened, and it was my turn to shudder, a rock thrown in the middle of me, rippling outward until even my toes and fingertips were tingling.

Short, but very intense.

"That was ..." she started.

"Nice," I said.

"Yeah, that works...."

+++
The next night: Amy is lying on top of me, on the couch. We're watching an episode of The Black Donnellys and waiting for our caffeine fix out in the kitchen to finish steeping.

"The only problem with the IUD," she says, apropos of nothing, "is that with you not wearing a condom ... You're all free and everything, and coming everywhere. And for the rest of that night, and all the next day, I'm ..."

Oh God, I thought. She's not going to discuss this out loud, is she? We can usually talk about anything, but this kind of thing ... Well, it kind of kills the romance. Ya know? An ex-girlfriend — the one that introduced me to Amy, as a matter of fact — would talk quite openly about bodily functions and fluids, even sometimes in the midst of sex. This is the definition of buzzkill — look it up in the dictionary. I guess I should be grateful that at least Amy had the wherewithal to wait 24 hours or so before bringing up "the juice."

Still, I had to head her off. While she lingered to find just the right word to finish her thought, I offered up something innocuous:

"You're ... dabbing?" I suggested.

"Yeah!" she agreed.

Okay. We avoided that one. Now, moving on....

Well, no. She kept going.

"I'm walking around, and I'm just ... all soupy."

This conversation isn't happening. This conversation isn't happening. I'm not here.

"I wish there was a way to get all this out ..."

Think happy thoughts. Ummmmm ... Baseball season is almost here! ... Ummmmm ...

"What I need," she continues, "is some ... post-coital ... soup ..."

Aw, hell. I can't resist: "... Removal?"

"Yes!" she exclaims. "Someone should invent a way to remove it."

Really, where is this going?

"We could start a business!" She's on a roll now. "Post-coital soup removal!"

"No way."

"We'd make millions!"

I don't want to encourage this. Really. And she senses my ambivalence.

"Well," she says, sensing my ambivalence (transmitted through my uninterrupted focus on the television screen — though for the life of me, I have no idea what I was looking at, I was just trying to make this conversation go away), "at least it'd be a great band name."

"Now, that is a great idea!" I concede. And what we do is just call ourselves 'PCSR' —and let everyone try to figure out what it stands for."

So, there you go. Maybe we can get Hole to open for us.

Just Needed A Warm-Up

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When in Rome....

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Saturday Night's Theme: "NOW."

"I'm so glad you have a penis," she said as we were turning off the lights and going to bed.

I chuckled, quietly, so as not to wake any little ones up. It was 2 a.m., and after the night we had just had, the last thing we needed was to have to get anyone back asleep. I groped in my head for the meaning of Amy's words: Did she mean she's glad I wasn't a woman? That it's nice to have a man around who can do the "man" things?

So, without another option, I responded with a vague, "Oh, you do, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, starting down the hall to our bedroom. "I really needed a penis tonight."

Technically true, but not really the way she felt emotionally. Tonight, what my wife needed was a cock.

+++

The evening hadn't started out looking particularly promising, sexually speaking. During dinner, in a quick moment alone in the kitchen, I had asked Amy if she had some fun in mind for later. Asking this sort of question has become more typical in the last year or so. There have been many nights where signals were crossed and a misunderstanding has ruined the evening. (More on that in a later post.) It's probably less romantic to essentially ask, So ... We gonna fuck or what? But in the long run, we've found that a little clarification makes everyone happier.

Amy indicated that she was, in fact, thinking about that, but everything would depend on how she felt after getting kids to bed. This activity often does her in. The kids are young enough that the bedtime routines are deliberate and exhausting. Often, by the time the last parent (usually Amy) emerges from the last bedroom, even a big cup of tea won't save her.

It looked like this was going to be the case on this night as I read books in bed to our oldest while Amy lay on the other side, eyes closed, seemingly slipping away. When we got back out to the living room, I made a last-ditch offer: Maybe we could get directly into bed, or maybe we could watch some porn in the living room and see if any interest developed. She surprised me with a third option: "Let's watch Last Tango in Paris and see how I feel in awhile. Maybe I'll wake up."

Last Tango is a film we've had "in waiting" for awhile -- waiting for a night we were both in the mood to watch it. I wasn't convinced that this was the night.

"Are you sure that's the one you want to watch?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," she said. "it's sexy, right?"

"Yeah, but ..." I trailed off.

I wasn't sure "sexy" was the word I'd have chosen. I hadn't seen Last Tango, but I knew it had a lot of sex ... some very famous scenes that I knew a little about, including the infamous "butter scene." Yes, there was sex ... but this was a pretty dark film. It's not like it was pornography.

But we watched it while I gave Amy a foot massage. Watching a 1970s art film requires adjustment when you've grown accustomed to the pace of current TV shows and movies. Even the first sex scene in this one feels laborious. Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider have met after both arriving to look at an apartment for rent at the same time. By the end of that visit, they've had some spontaneous sex on the apartment floor. There's a natural awkwardness to the scene -- this is cinema verité after all. Honestly, I didn't find it particularly arousing. Which probably speaks volumes about how my viewing likes/dislikes have been molded by watching so much traditional porn.

Amy must have felt differently. Not long after that scene, she abruptly announced from the other end of the couch: "Okay, I think I'm a little tired. Turn it off and come here."

I settled in on top of her, on top of The World's Softest Pajamas™ (a Christmas present from a long-distance relative, though chosen by me), and began some gentle kissing and nibbling on her lips, neck, earlobes. It was "kissing with out motive." A sort of warm-up. But very quickly, Amy began quietly moaning. The kissing became more intense faster than I would have expected. Her mouth became more aggressive, her tongue probing my teeth and tongue with strength and urgency. Her hips began to grind. After a few minutes, as "kiss" moved closer to "devour," I felt her hands move slowly underneath me, down the front of her World's Softest Pajamas™ top, unbuttoning. Her arms were back around me, she pulled me in even closer and sighed into my mouth.

I worked my way down to between her breasts, sucking and biting the flesh. Again, the response was more vocal than I usually get. Enveloping the nipple with my mouth stepped it up another notch. Amy's into this tonight.

I absolutely love her tits, can never lavish them with enough praise, lips, tongue, tweaks. I worked them for awhile as her hip-grinding got more intense, and the moans had turned to words: "Yes ... God, that feels good ... Bite my nipples ... Bite harder ... Now the other one...."

I live for these kinds of demands from Amy. She knows this. She probably also knows I'd love her to do it more. I'm usually the aggressor, the dirty-talker. She enjoys hearing it but doesn't always feel comfortable talking herself. That wasn't a problem on this night.

"I need you to fuck me now," she said, and my lips smiled even as they continued to tease her tits. This was going to be nice, I thought. But even taking the time for that thought pissed off my newly impatient lover. She said it again, this time with a tone to make sure I understood she wasn't messing around: "I need you to fuck me now." And she pushed me away so she could get her World's Softest Pajamas™ bottoms the fuck off her body.

This is when it occurred to me that the Brando-Schneider quick-and-dirty scene had flipped a switch for her. She wanted a hard fuck with minimum foreplay. Usually she wants a good bout of pussy-eating, suck on my cock a bit, a liberal amount of lube added to her natural wetness. But it was clear this night that I had better get my jeans off only as far as I needed to get my cock out.

Pants yanked barely below my ass, I was back over her again. I started to guide my cock in, but she pulled my hand away and took it herself. Clearly I was taking too long. She spread her lips with one hand and stuffed me in with the other, wrapping her legs around me and using her calves to push me in as deep as possible.

"Yesssssssss," she sighed. Funny, I was thinking the same thing.

She was steaming hot inside, unbelievably wet and ready for this. I started pumping into her pretty hard, but not hard enough. "Come on," she said, still sounding impatient. "Harder." Harder is what she got. She clawed at my t-shirt, and quickly it was gone. I continued to fuck her as hard as I could, and she continued to talk. "Yes ... I love it when you fuck me this way ... Fuck my pussy hard ... God, your cock feels so good in my cunt...."

For once, I was struck dumb. After all those times where I was the one saying the filthy things to get her going, here she was the total aggressor ... and I didn't know what to say! We laughed about this the next day, how the roles had flipped, and I felt out of my league. But even as I dealt with an unusual awkwardness, I loved having that "burden" lifted from me for one fun fuck session. It was clear that I had one responsibility: To give Amy the cock that she craved. No lover, no husband, no person. Just a dick to be stuck in her as hard and as often as she wanted.

She pushed me off.

"Now you're going to fuck me from behind."

Damn.

I slapped her ass more than usual as I pummeled her cunt, and she screamed out each time with an abandon that I remembered from many years ago. I finally found some words as I watched my cock disappearing in and out of her.

"You like getting fucked like this?" I hissed.

"I love it," she said when she turned her head from the couch pillow.

"Then come on ... Fuck me back. Fuck back into my cock." My words were almost drowned out by the hammering sound of her ass slamming against my crotch. I reached up and grabbed her hair -- something I don't normally do -- and she hissed a "Yes!" and leaned her head back to let me grab. I reached under and grabbed her tits. "I love your tits swaying as I fuck you so hard." She screamed a little louder.

This was all too much. I was on the verge.

"Holy shit," I said, "I'm going to come real soo-- Oh, fuck!" And boom, like that, I was there, filling her cunt with several spurts of cum. She let out a long moan as she felt it.

"I want to finish you," I said as I slowly pulled my still-hard dick out of her sopping pussy.

"Of course," she said. Oh, that's right, I thought. This is the new Aggressive Amy. "But you need to get a towel."

Another difference: Normally at this point, she would have retired to the bathroom to "clean up." Tonight, she wanted hers and she wasn't going anywhere 'til she got it. An opportunity for me to indulge in something I love to do but don't get enough chance to do: Eat out her cum-filled pussy.

I was torn as I went down on her ... I wanted to keep up the "aggression" theme of the night with an enthusiastic, fast gobble, but I also wanted to savor it. I think I struck a balance, enjoying a nice creamy meal while bringing her off with shivers and screams.

Amy's pussy lips feel so different when I go down on her after a hard fuck. They feel .... unhinged. They move in ways they don't normally move. That sensation, along with the taste of my semen, actually had me hard again. Another rarity, to bounce back so quick at my age. I was tempted to "press my luck" and try fucking her again, but all her body language indicated that she was sated. And this was, after all, all about Amy tonight.

"Okay," she sighed. "Now I'm awake. Let's watch some more of the movie."

We watched another half-hour. Didn't make it to the "butter scene." Damn, if we had before our fuck, there might have been some ass action on top of everything else! Of course, that part of the movie is still coming up whenever we do get around to finishing it....

+++

Nights like Saturday night fill me with hope. Amy and I have come a long way in regards to communicating about sex. She continues to be open to trying new things to please me ... and when she does, she seems to get into it. It is still a challenge for her to vocalize any kinks that would really get her off, but when she "takes charge" like she did on Saturday, I feel like we're a step closer. This night, combined with the (relatively recent) night of anal we had, tells me that even after all these years together, we can still find new things to try.

I love the fact that my lover for the last 15 years can still get me so fucking horny, just at the thought of her. I am truly a lucky man.