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Thank you for pausing for a moment and letting me touch you.
Is it me? Or is it because nobody likes to write about ordinary people in ordinary relationships?
(Stop that Mark!)
I mean -- come on...
Living on ice cream gets boring. Doesn't anyone out there have a normal relationship with their lover?
You know, sex two or three times a week - maybe. A few arguments. Making up in a few days. The man complaining because he always has to apologize first. Even if the woman was wrong.
(We're never wrong of course. Knock off the giggles Mark. Mmmmm... Hey! I'm trying to be serious here.)
So, anyway, how come nobody writes about ordinary folks?
Mark and I for example. Sure, we did like to make love a lot at first. Did it almost anywhere we could find a chance of five minutes of more or less privacy. Got 'caught' a few times too. Always after he had already orgasmed though. Mark is a great pressure performer.
(Get your hand away... Mmmmmm... Yes, I know. Go get a towel if it worries you.)
He's also pretty good at realizing when to cover my mouth so I don't scream too loud when we are in public. I never did find out how he learned to do that.
(Male thing he says. I don't believe it. There no such thing unless you consider all men little boys who haven't matured. We know better don't we?)
Anyway, where was I?
Oh. So, for the first few years, we enjoyed a lot of sex together. Mark says I'm pretty good myself. He's ok most of the time.
(Uh! Hey! Damnit, quit chuckling in my ear. Bad enough you're... OK, At least let me finish this.)
What's my favorite position you say? Honestly now. Why ask? Him screwing me. Period. You know, his penis inside me. Use your imagination. As long as the parts connect, where the rest of the body is, is meaningless.
(Hands off Mark! Ummm... Uhhhh... OK, you've made your point...)
Well, sometimes he uses his hands too. Where the hands are can be important. Sometimes. Once-in-a-while.
(Yes, now damnit. Apologize for interrupting me! I'm supposed to be...)
Excuse me folks. Something's cooking and I need to make sure it doesn't burn.
(C'mere! You started this, now finish it!)
Ummm... Now. Back to... Oh yes.
So, as I was saying, there's a place in this world for 'just plain folks'.
Our best times together are when things are just normal. You know, we've both had a usual day, nothing has happened to make it stand out from thousands of other days we've been together.
Mark has, as usual most of the time, left me with the dishes after dinner. Somehow, we never seem to use the dishwasher. I suppose that could be because it's so impersonal.
You know. Bend over and load it, bend over and unload it. Where's the excitement in that?
Standing at the sink gives us a chance to relax together.
(Mark! I thought you were in bed asleep.)
I do the dishes and he walks up behind me, gives me a hug. Fondles me a bit...
I sigh and lean back. He presses into me from behind. I start to get all dreamy and relaxed...
(Sorta like that, yes. Help me out here. I tend to lose track of things. What do you mean you've finished the dishes a lot of the time? Oh, really? Ah... Well...)
He lifts my skirt, rubs his hands along my buttocks...
About then, I bend forward slightly and brace myself... He removes his robe to stand naked. I set the dish that I'm washing down and push myself back into his warn embrace...
(Here? In the chair? How am I supposed to be able to type if I'm sitting on your lap? Oh. That's right, it *is* adjustable.)
He turns on the water so it's warm. I watch dreamily as he lets it flow over his hands before he reaches to caress me. I murmur quietly as he wanders down to hold me firmly before sliding his erection into me.
(Uh! Not so fast. I'm trying to remember this for people. OK, just hug me tight for a while. Slow down!)
His hands are firm yet gentle as he finds his rhythm. Time vanishes. Sometimes I orgasm, sometimes I don't. He steadies me until we both feel ready to move back to the living room.
(What do you mean it's 3 AM? Oh. I did it again? What dishes? Oh, those. Tomorrow. I'm busy. Can't you see that?)