Unfavorable Contact

Some weeks ago, Ninja closed his door on his visiting friend and turned back to me. We progressed to the bed, and I was thrilled by the need to be quiet, lest it be blatantly obvious what we were doing behind the closed door.

My legs were on his shoulders and his thrusting was divine. I rested my hand on his cheek, feeling his hair and his ears and his cheekbones and jawline, and watching his eyes close ever so slightly with the motions. I looked down at his hips, and that sexy triangle between his hip bones. The light from the window to the right of us blinks in and out as he moves himself against me. The jolt that shoots through me with each SMACK. Pure hotness. His hands ran down my body, behind me, and between my legs, between my ass cheeks. I was gone and relaxed enough that he rubbed me, stimulating me, and pushed one of his fingers inside my ass. I felt a mixture of discomfort and pleasure, but it mixed in with the feeling of his cock inside me and I was A-OK. I was learning to like it. I want to, I want more. He quivered, he came and rested on top of me.

Fast forward to yesterday morning, when we are showering together in the tiny stand-up stall. Or rather, the moment where my legs are spread, one on the floor and one on the wall opposite me at my head's height. His knees are bent and he is coming up at me with such force that I feel his balls slap my inner thigh and buttocks - I can barely stand, that sensation drives me crazy. He tires and turns me around, slipping inside me again while I'm on my tippy toes to make things easier for him. Or try to, anyway. He's like a foot taller than me. Irrelevant that is, however, while he goes again between my legs, pressing against my anus with his finger. Calm, calm, calm down... he continues, slipping inside again with one of his fingers. A few moments and he withdraws, but I think nothing of it while we make love in the water. He tires and neither of us reach orgasm, it being the second time that morning we'd done so.

Later on, he makes a song about playing with my butt while he primps himself in the bathroom. I roll my eyes; he's a very musical fellow and makes songs about many things.

Until... he sings about touching my poop. I dropped my head and could have died in shame, but instead I flopped myself down on his bed. He called me back, I groaned. So embarassed. Expected, probable even, but damn it. Embarassing. He calls me still, telling me sternly to come back. I abide, and he picks my head up and makes me look at him, telling me not to be embarassed.

I'm glad his reaction was understanding and favorable... it would be pretty lame to be anything otherwise... but still. Unfavorable contact is the source of my reserve, and I haven't even experienced his cock before it rears its ugly, poopy head.