Mission Accomplished

For the longest time, I never saw his eyes while he fucked my ass. I won't say it was a choice, necessarily; we were too young to know any better, and the only anal we ever saw was doggie style, plus it just seemed the most convenient. It wouldn't seem like the small vertical shift to go from one hole to the other would make that much difference, but it really did.

And since I love anal, and so does he, that means I never get to look him in the face. All our kisses have to be awkward, turned around like he's pulling my head back, like he's reigning in a horse. It's not tender. I've lost something with him.

It's after school, a lazy autumn afternoon, the light slowly dying through the window of the living room, and he's had a snack and we're sitting, me in my undies and a robe, him still in school clothes, and I know that it's only a matter of time before he puts the plate aside and pulls out his cock. I'm aching for it. My thighs get a particular tightness, like they're struggling not to open. I find my hand always moving back to my belly, not quite in control, like any minute it's going to move lower, and damn Mike, damn men in general, I'm just going to play with myself. If he doesn't get going, it's going to happen. I'm too proud to jump him, even though my ass aches too, aches for the fullness, the sweet need to accept and reject at the same time.

"You ready, sis?" He doesn't always ask. Sometimes he sweeps me up, without asking, taking me because he knows I'm ready, always. I can see in his eyes that he senses something, he's unsure. Maybe I'm not ready. I think for a moment to myself, wondering, doubting. Maybe I don't want it today.

"Can we try it face to face today?" I finally ask, sorting out my internal monologue. If I were trying to get him to do something he didn't want to do, or at least was pretending not to want to do, I might pout a little. I'm a girl, I'm allowed. But this isn't an odd request. I just want to get to see his face for once.

I think back. Surely we've made love face to face recently. But no, all I can remember is anal, nothing but anal. Not that I don't love it, particularly when he switches half way through, pressing lower into my dripping pussy, cleanliness be damned. But it's always from behind.

"Okay," he says, and pulls off his pants. No need for oral, not the first time. I'll get him up again in a bit, maybe try for two. Neither of us has much to do that evening. His cock curves up a little, rock hard, and it wiggles as he stands to take the rest of his clothes off. I just want to watch him; the young muscles, not muscular but fit, certainly, tighten and loosen as he moves. His ass has these two cute dimples in the sides, on the hip, which only show when he's bending over. I don't spend much time looking at his ass though; his cock, then his face, entrance me.

He grins and tilts his head slightly. I'm still dressed. What's wrong with me? Too wrapped up in watching him and thinking. The robe is tossed aside, I shuck my panties first and then reach back to undo the strap of my bra. I'm still not that good at it. Haven't mastered the skill yet. And it doesn't help that my mind is entirely elsewhere, next to him.

Somehow, the bra comes off, and we've come together, kissing, my arms around his chest under his, his hands reaching down. I can feel the tip of his cock pulsing slightly as it presses into my abdomen. There's already wetness there, to match the wetness that has been building in me, the warmth.

Even though he's younger, I let him lay me back on the floor. We could go downstairs or up, but what the hell, it's nice right here. The carpet isn't as soft, but it's fine on my back. I don't have to get on my knees right now, and when I do, we can always move elsewhere. I feel the pile on my back and my ass as he gets to his knees between mine. Then I'm surprised as he lifts my legs.

"What the hell are you doing, goof?" I ask him, giggling as he raises my legs up more.

"Trust me." And I do. Never mind that I know more about sex than he does, that I've been doing it longer, than really, I should be guiding him. He's my guy right now. I'm going to trust him.

I expect him to aim for penetration, but he starts spitting on his fingers, and I know now that he's aiming for anal. This is new. The passage suddenly feels tight, crooked, something which will make it uncomfortable, unpleasant. I want to stop him, to tell him that it's okay, he can flip me over if he wants. I want to beg him to at least use lube if he's going to be strange. But when his fingers gently touch my asshole, then start probing it, the warm wetness that he gathers from his spit and my pussy relax me. I'm going to trust him.

I'm not very flexible, and having my legs up like this for long periods isn't comfortable. It's pressing my lungs up, making it more difficult to draw a complete breath. My knees are on his shoulders now, and he's moving closer, and I'm going to trust him damn it. I'm going to.

There's always a moment of hesitation, right as his cock is about to press through the first, tightest barrier. There's always a moment where my body says, "Hey chick, that's an exit, not an entrance." If it kept up like that, I couldn't stand it, but it lasts a moment. And that moment is simultaneously the best and worst thing. This time, the moment lasts almost too long. I was right. His cock shouldn't go in like that. Not enough lube. Too crooked. Too tight. Too something.

And then I release a tension I didn't even know I had as the head pops in and he's inside me again, and it's like always. Maybe not the best way to get fucked in the ass, but now I can see my guy's face, see the reaction as he loves the tightness. And he can see me, see that instant of doubt, see how the doubt is resolved into wonderful acceptance.

Tomorrow, we're going back to doggie style. My back can't take this shit.

[Editor's Note: for those of you who are screaming, "Put a pillow under your ass, silly!" trust me, I know now.]