True Sex Stories: Doing Porn

Real life sex, as inspired by some really hot porn.

Yesterday, Frank and I watched porn. We were on my bed, naked, from late afternoon to early evening. He stretched out on the mattress with his legs open, and I leaned against him with my back cushioned against his broad chest. He enjoyed my breasts. Cupping them in his large palms, he tweaked the nipples with the fingertips, pinching till they were peaked. My hands were casually in motion between my legs, the digits teasing the pussy lips apart. The index finger crooked into a bend and stroked the sensitive layers of flesh. I used my nails to peel the hood from my clit and made compact circles around the rigid bundle of nerves. I liked when Frank's hands joined mine at the juncture of my legs. The four hands worked together, spreading the viscous wetness over the smooth pubis. One of us fucked my cunt with the glass dildo while I brought my weight against Frank's shoulders. He craned his head forward, and we kissed. The heat of his erection lifted from between my cheeks and climbed to the small of my back.

The laptop sat at the foot of the bed. Out of deference to Frank's preferences, the sex was vanilla: no girls on leashes, no one being tied up, no canings with a birch rod, no piss flowing into an open mouth. Boy/girl pornography operates on a time worn formula. There is perfunctory foreplay, a five or ten minute blowjob, then fucking in the various ways, usually with extended closeups of the cock entering the pussy or the anus. The girl moans her ecstasy - maybe she comes, maybe she fakes it - and the transitions from one position to another are mediated by more cocksucking. The scene ends with her face splashed with semen and a wave goodbye.

This kind of porn doesn't get me off. I like having extended foreplay, lots of kissing and touching between the legs, the girl being eaten for more than thirty seconds, the principals sharing eye contact with each other and not the camera. I don't need images of genitalia filling the screen: I know what's happening below: it has happened to me. I'd rather look at the faces during sex, the masks of pleasure the two lovers wear, the way they kiss, how the lips and tongues are a much desired presence everywhere. I want unalloyed happiness at the thrill of fucking. I want heavy perspiration, the sweat shaking off the bodies as they move. I want the music gone. I want off-camera voices to shut the hell up. I don't need the goddamned interview segment to start. I want to listen to dirty talk during. I want long passages of verbal silence punctuated by the offhand comment, private whispers, a joke. I want to hear the squeak of the bedsprings filling the spaces between words, the slap of flesh, the noises of surprise and delight when that precise spot is touched in exactly that way, just for an instant. I want unfeigned affection, the intensity of being in the moment, a sense of welcome and belonging, the quality of palpable joy. I want laughter. I want her to scream in exultation when she creams for real. I want a come shot inside to close, the semen filling the girl's mouth and her swallowing, the muscles of the throat visibly active as she milks the cock she holds between her lips. I want the sperm injected into her body, the penis all the way within, moving inside her afterwards as it softens, the whiteness spilling out over her thighs when he vacates her at last. I want to bask in the ardor of afterglow, the contentment following the sex, bodies snuggled close, the heaviness of limbs vined together, languorous movements, post-coital conversation.

As it happens, the porn I have, at its best, satisfies only a few of these idiosyncrasies of mine.

After we viewed a scene, Frank and I acted it out. The condom was an unfortunate sop to reality. We laughed watching the porn and laughed again trying to reproduce it. We improvised dialogue while we fucked. (Ours was better anyway.) As the scenes typically ended in a facial despite my preferences, Frank gave me one. His come splattered my forehead and my cheeks. It pasted my eyes shut and ran down the sides of my nose and dribbled from my chin. It got into my hair. Resisting the urge to lick the semen from my lips, I brushed only what covered my eyes away. Looking up at him with a big grin, I moisturized myself with his come, smoothing it over my throat and my arms. I took his shaft in hand and used the hot, thick head to spread the warm, sticky jizz over my face. I touched the glans to a tit and squeezed the last drops over me. His foreskin brushed across the nipple. The smell of him was on me, sinking into the pores. It filled my lungs. I left kisses on his thighs in thanks and rubbed my semen sticky face over his legs. I sucked his cock and his scrotum. Fortunately, Frank has no hangups about his own come. He tilted my face up and kissed me after the come shot, which is another scene you don't see often enough in porn.

Republished with permission from Leah Lays London. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo by John B. Root.