[Apologies for not calling this post “KAOS”. I was fully intending to, so as to both reference soaking and Donkey Kong Country 3, but DKC3 has nothing at all to do with this. With that out of the way, however…]
The following is a true story:
It wasn’t late. Maybe about seven, or eight. Perhaps it was later. I seem to remember it being dark outside, but then again, maybe it was winter. In any case, the room was bathed in light – probably through the efforts of several very valiant bulbs.
By this point I’d gotten past the sort of mental/physical block that had prevented me from ejaculating during sex. For a few months now – following the initial horny, experimental period – I’d been coming inside her practically every time we had sex. Although we were both content with the fact that what felt good was the journey, rather than the destination (and the fact that she had more orgasms than me), we both enjoyed it when I climaxed.
Our “post game” reviews usually got around to the subject. Rebecca would describe what my penis was doing as “pulsating” and refer to herself as being “full of cum”, an image I found both disgusting and delightful in equal measure. In any case, that’s what I was doing now, and I’d had a lock fitted on my door, so when we were at my place, we were – to all intents and purposes – free to do so.
And that’s what we were doing.
Although I’d penetrated her a few minutes ago, and we were very much in flagrante delicto at this point, there wasn’t a lot of movement going on. My dick was rock hard – you could have hung a towel off it by this point – and her inner pussy muscles enveloping every millimetre, contracting around my breadth so well that I could feel every pulse, her heartbeat channelling through my shaft as I lay atop her. Beads of sweat were dripping from my forehead, a few running down her cleavage as she moaned and sighed.
Neither of us were moving.
It wasn’t as if this was a regular occurrence. I was usually quite energetic during sex and, by this point, I’d usually be merrily thrusting away. But, at that very moment, I was just caught up in enjoying the feeling.
Enjoying the feeling. My head spiralled backwards. Three very powerful words. I’d heard Esque using them a year or so prior – also to describe sex sans movement – and that was what I was doing. Lying there, completely inside her, bathed in sweat and light and heat… and enjoying the feeling.
I can’t believe this, a tiny voice somewhere in my brain said. (Even after a few months, the fact that I was having sex at all was difficult to believe.) I can’t believe how good this feels. Even though I’m not moving, I’m making love, I’m making love, I’m making…
Silently, swiftly, and even without the accompanying hip thrust that soft porn would have us believe happens every time, I came. Rope after rope of warm, thick cum shot deep inside her, and although she made no sound, the glint in her gaze – for we had been staring into each other’s eyes throughout this whole adventure – told me that she had felt it too.
Latter-day internet knowledge tells me that this is a process known as ‘soaking’. I did, however, manage to finish without anyone jumping on the bed in close proximity. This may well be a skill that I wasn’t aware I had up until now.
Let’s add it to my CV and watch the offers come flooding in.
[Partially inspired by GOTN’s filthy post around the same topic. Go read that too.]