Random memories: Foreplay?!

He was lying on the floor at my feet, we were watching TV.

He had a gorgeous arse and beautiful legs. I was distracted by the muscles of his thighs, and the crease where his legs met his arse.

I idly started to pat his arse with my foot, just stroking him gently. He shifted back a little to give me better access. I squeezed my foot between his thighs and he opened his legs for me. I kicked him gently in the crotch, no force, more of a pat than a kick, then ran my toes between his arse cheeks.

He moved slowly, rising up onto his knees, offering himself.

I used my toes to awkwardly pull down his boxer briefs, several tries, and I could finally slide them down to his knees. I rubbed my foot around his balls, slid it between his legs and against his cock, bounced my foot against him.

I reached forward and stroked his pretty arse, my fingers travelling down his arse crack. I pressed my thumb against his hole, not pushing in just yet.

He baulked and pulled away, turned to face me.

“Sometimes I’d like a little foreplay, you know?”

I looked at him and started to laugh. I thought he was joking.

He looked back at me. He wasn’t.


Loves: 16
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  1. That’s some nice sex you were having there. Way to go, buddy!

    Sometimes, though, you’ve gotta give them a little foreplay. Make sure they’re rarin’ to go first.

    1. “That’s some nice sex you were having there. Way to go, buddy!”

      *eye roll*

      “Sometimes, though, you’ve gotta give them a little foreplay. Make sure they’re rarin’ to go first.”

      Pfffttt… they should just be rarin’ to go *anytime I want*. What sort of rubbish submissive isn’t?!!


    1. *laugh* Bless him, the sensitive little sweetheart. He wanted some wooing and seduction: cuddling, kissing, maybe some flowers and dinner first.

      That was the first time that a boy had huffed at me for being too direct. It makes me laugh even now, but he made a fair point.

      Sometimes ‘gimme’ just isn’t enough. Who knew?


        1. I have such a bad memory that I can’t remember what happened after that, except I *do* recall that his bringing it up right then ruined the mood for me.

          Most likely we ended up having a little talk about it.

          See how boring that was?! I usually end stories at a certain point for a reason *laugh*.

          Reader: “What happened then?!!”
          Me: “Eh, nothin’.”


      1. I was the rose, you were the thorn. Clearly.

        And whilst I have no memory of that night, it sounds like something I’d say.

  2. I’m not sure how he managed to say that instead of leaning back into your thumb. Mmmmm your fingers in my mouth and behind. Okay, I’ll stop now before you think I’m some sort of crazed pervert. Unless you’re into those kind of things. ;)

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