I was awash with a kaleidoscopic swirl of hormones that filled me with a peaceful energy, withheld the pending pains and made me fall deeply with a pure form of love for him. I glided behind him to his bedroom and felt I was otherworldly and sent for nothing else than to exchange pleasure and was convinced this euphoria was a new and permanent state of being.

(I was off my dial on sex hormones. I woke the following day struggling to deal with the shift from glorious hormonal dreamscapes to the physics of reality of she who soars so high has to land with an ugly thud. I think the reason I don’t take drugs is I’d become addicted purely to avoid crash landings — I don’t do ‘down’ well, which may be partly why I don’t lose control physically with ease.)

I purred and warbled hearing him say how beautiful and sexy I was, and my eroded emotional shell allowed me to shower him with admiration and play in his field of falling entirely during sex. I became him in a way, wanting to feel how he becomes so utterly bonded in the moment but doesn’t lose his sanity afterwards.

A few memory gaps as it was surprisingly late when we came to, but I remember lying on my back with my legs splayed and bent. He was perpendicular to me with his legs under mine and rubbing his erection against my genitals, more smoothly and quickly as my wetness gushed. I was engulfed in permission to enjoy him after the restrictions of the roleplay and I opened my legs further to encourage his penetration. He entered and we slipped quickly into a tempo that made him iron hard and straight and me the perfectly-shaped vacuum around him. I almost never orgasm through penetration alone and something released inside me and let go, a transitory kind of climax that gave me an overwhelming sense of calm but awakened a deeper and more ferocious hunger for him. A woman in full flight is a scary beast indeed; I would have been terrifying to swaggering and cocky young men if I had discovered these powers earlier in life.

A gap again but I ended up on top riding him with my breasts swinging above his face. He was close to coming but shifted position in preparation and lost momentum. I needed for his pleasure to equal mine and I leaned back to find a new position where he would have deeper penetration. While still thrusting on the way backwards, another orgasm from nowhere hit like a slap to the cunt — I sat bolt upright uncontrollably and somewhere in the midst I wondered what the fuck had happened and who had control of this new and crazy body. I fell back with my head between his feet and with his cock still inside me. I have to warm up and do complementary stretches before doing that to my quadriceps in real life but I felt the back of my head on the bed covers and started laughing like the village idiot. Nothing could hurt me, not even extreme human origami without a warm-up. He became worried and asked if I was all right but I couldn’t explain because nothing made sense.

I eased myself up, thanked him for the surprise and started fucking again to distract him from asking more questions I couldn’t answer. I found a position close to the original with my arms straightened where he also had space to thrust freely. He became pre-orgasm solid again and we fucked with nothing except the sound of my wetness shifting around his cock until he grasped my arms and came. I watched his face crease as he entered his own world for those seconds and adored him for letting go so beautifully.

I slipped by his side, nestled into his chest and swam in the embraces I’m usually wary of — his fleeing after fucking response is delayed compared to other men’s and the intimacy I know is but isn’t real is disconcerting but I let myself keep living his sexuality.

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