One Trick Pony
I am not a one trick pony. I do not go for vanilla, no frills sex. I do not practice once a week, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am style shagging. I do not turn off the lights and lay there taking it in one stagnant position. I do not get poked while dressed from the waist up. I do not settle for nothing special.
Luckily for me, my lover and I have recently taken it upon ourselves to test drive every sexual position imaginable in the course of an evening’s fucking. It’s a phase we’re going through and it resembles speed dating–only it’s speed sexing. And instead of ringing a bell, reaching a screaming orgasm cues the change to the next position.
It’s insane how much territory we cover in a night–I go down on her, tongue on clit and fuck her with my fingers; she returns the favor with fervor; I strap it on and fuck her missionary position while deep tongue kissing; I flip her over and slam into her doggie style, pulling her hair; she climbs on top and rides me, facing forward so I can squeeze her nipples, then turning around so I can claw her back; I lose the strap-on and we luxuriate in a long session of sixty-nine; then we go out with a bang, grinding against each other lesbian-style until we are one wet slippery mess.
When we find our favorite position perhaps we’ll tone down the sexual calisthenics. The only hindrance to that plan is that we’re addicted to the variety–probably because, again, I’m not a one trick pony. And neither is my lover. We simply ride the bucking bronco of desire until it throws us over, exhausted yet sated, onto our backs.