Do You Like It Rough? (Calling Out Names)
Last month, I treated you regular Wet Wednesdays readers to a special repost the day before Thanksgiving. It was actually my very first piece of erotic writing, “I Found Love in This Club,” that was published back in 2000 by The Source as part of their then-annual sex package.
In an effort to switch things up, my assignment was to recount how a young man discovered the art of making love since men are typically known for "screwing." To balance things out, there was actually a companion piece written by a talented young writer by the name of Marlee Mickens, who recounted a woman discovering the joys of getting fucked.
Being that Christmas (and my birthday) is at the end of this week and I know how much you guys/gals crave your weekly dose of erotica, I figured I’d share Marlee’s piece with y'all to show the other side of the erotic coin. So without further ado, here’s one woman’s guide to the art of fucking…
I’m in love. Wholly, breathlessly and thoroughly. Couldn’t ask for a more sensitive, intelligent, potential baby-daddy to have in my life. He’s got my back and loves me just as completely. And as emotional, mushy and downright girly as that sounds, don’t get it twisted: if I had to choose between “making love” and “fucking” to describe our sexual relationship, I’d have to say Ishmael and I are undoubtedly fucking.
It’s partly just the cheesy wackness of the expression. Who really says “making love?” It’s the kind of term you hear in love songs and romantic comedies—sounds like something for married couples and virgins. And we are neither.
I must admit, in the beginning—when I still shaved my legs all the way up to my thighs and took long, scented oil baths before I trekked to Ishmael’s crib—we probably made love. That very first time, in the pre-dawn after a late night of clubbing, he turned to me, folded me in his arms, kissed my forehead and…
Well, you know.
I had butterflies in my stomach, my heart was beating maaad fast and I came after like, three strokes.
Actually, when we were still “dating,” (before we started damn near living together), we were always mushy and lovey-dovey. Sex for us included extended foreplay, handholding and lots of eye contact.
And then we rented Fight Club.
I’d had a particularly stressful day at work. And when I collapsed in bed, I didn’t think I’d be awake long enough to kiss Ishmael good night, much less watch some testosterone-filled bloodthirsty flick.
But he insisted.
What, ahem, came afterwards made staying up more than worth it.
It had to be all the hand-to-hand combat. Men beating each other—and even themselves— into a bloody pulp. I usually hate violence in movies, but this time the kicking, shoving and pummeling turned me on.
Fight Club brought out a side of my usually laid-back lover that I had never seen. Usually, Ishmael eats me out slowly, with relish—like I’m a creamy, bite-sized, strawberry-topped cheesecake. This night, there were no gentle kisses on my thighs before going for the main course. He was raw and direct, slurping me up like clams on a half shell.
Any other night, Ishmael licks my nipples so softly that I’ve been known to cry like a baby. This time, he cupped my breasts together with one hand and devoured them.
By the time he entered me, the sheets were flooded, we were covered in sweat. But my baby was just beginning.
Ishmael had nerve to prop my legs up on his shoulders, his hands squeezing my arms tightly, and I could only let my body go and try to keep up. When he pulled out long enough to grab me by my dreadlocks and showed me what he wanted next, I was shocked at his boldness—and more than happy to oblige.
Forget whispering sweet nothings, murmuring I-love-you and nibbling necks. That was making love. This was something else entirely. By the time Ishmael lifted me off the bed, wrapped his arms around my lower back, and effortlessly kept the rhythm going, I was hooked on fucking.
It was furious, intense and explosive. And when I came (for the third time), I did something I’d never done before—I screamed out his name. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been known to moan and whisper a brother’s name in the heat of passion. But I screeched out Ishmael’s name like I was in hard labor with 10-pound triplets.
The next morning, we didn’t really talk about it. But I know he noticed me walking a little funny and I peeped him stretching his back and rolling his neck muscles around. We were spent and worn out but happily so.
We broke up a few weeks later but reconciled within days. Our first few nights back together were all about murmuring “I miss you” and staring into each other’s eyes. But after a week of making love, I realized how much I missed getting’ fucked.
But I couldn’t just say, “Yo, Ishmael, can we fuck tonight?” So instead, I waited until the next time we were scanning the new releases at the local video store.
He glanced over to me and asked, “What do you want to see?”
I looked him dead in his eye and whispered, “I wanna see Fight Club.”
His eyes widened just a little and he smiled, “Oh, word?”
We didn’t even watch the movie. Before the sneak previews were over, he had me on my knees, holding on to the headboard for dear life. needless to say, it was a real blockbuster night.
Even though I love Ishmael to death—we do a lot more fucking than making love these days. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Fin!
Ladies, are you turned on my aggressive men in and out of the bedroom? Does his energy heighten the experience for you? Have you ever called out your lover’s name during sex? Did you mean it or were you merely stroking his ego? Are you someone that believes married couples should only make love and “fucking” should be saved for singles people? Fellas, how turned on are you by a woman that screams your name? Do you prefer a woman that’s aggressive in the bedroom or let’s you take charge? What did you think of Marlee’s piece? How many people want to go out and rent Fight Club now?
Speak your piece…
HOLIDAY MESSAGE
I definitely want to wish everyone a safe and happy holiday (whichever you celebrate). Also, want to extend an open invitation for anyone interested in submitting guest blog for Wet Wednesdays or any other topics the door is always open. Feel free to hit me up at NakedWithSocksOn@gmail.com.
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MissMe83
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BMW2K
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NotLeavingMyName
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Ya Ya
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MsKaos
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Imperfect_Rose
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irizle
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#5
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