Ride
I found myself in the same position Thursday night at Fusion as I had been some nine months previous with the same person in control of my fate, though under drastically different circumstances.
The last time I had seen Malacro was at the last Summer Camp. I was grieving the recent loss of my father, but not telling most of the people there of my circumstance. I spent a lot of that camp simply sitting and chatting with folks.
As I strolled up the path, I saw a game of Cards Against Humanity was under way at Sadists’ Lair. Also, setup just outside of the game, was a sybian.
I don’t remember how I ended up on the sex toy. I do remember who was at the controls for most of my ride. Malacro let me rest my hands on his thighs as I came multiple times, the sex toy’s controls in his hands. I displaced much of my body weight forward as I put pressure onto my clit, leaning onto the vibrating nub of the sybian.
Malacro was quiet but kind as my orgasms raced through me. I remember being so grateful that I could still feel that good, even as I felt the pain at the loss of my father.
Nine months later, after I finally got Amy to camp Thursday evening, I enjoyed dinner at the Baekry, then rushed back to my cabin, showered, changed, and hurried up to Sadists’ Lair.
Outside the cabin, two sybians were setup side by side. I rode one last September. The other belonged to Malacro. In a message before camp, he informed me that he’d actually bought his own sybian after our shared Summer Camp experience. Of course we just had to have round two.
As before, I was a size queen. I chose the largest attachment. He put it on and I crouched down onto the sex toy.
“Is it okay if I lean on you?”
As he turned up the motor, my hips began to gyrate. I realized if I leaned forward I would soon come, but if I leaned back I could give my clit a break.
My first two orgasms came as a continuous wave. I leaned onto Malacro; my arms rested on his shoulders. Then my hands gripped his back. As orgasm one melted into orgasm two, I relaxed my hands.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m more concerned about my ink.”
For the rest of my orgasms, I rested my arms on his shoulders. My hands gripped together behind him. My forehead touched his. We leaned into each other. It was close, intimate. He was giving me pleasure. I was opening myself up to connection, communicating my pleasure in sound and breath.
At times I screamed or mumbled inexplicable dialogue only I could decipher. Occasionally I giggled as the ecstasy tickled my insides and spread to my fingertips and toes. Sometimes I moaned, guttural and full. Sometimes I whined, high pitch and breathy. But I stayed in close with Malacro. I wanted to keep that intimacy, that connection.
Later, after my thirteen orgasms and many thanks for my ride, I asked him, “So can we do that again sometime?”
“Sure.”
“And next time, may I kiss you?”
Only I, who had already experienced multiple orgasms from this man on two separate occasions, would be so polite as to believe I shouldn’t try to kiss him while riding his sybian without first asking his permission.