His tongue thrust into my mouth so that the kiss mimicked what our bodies were doing, all of us inside each other, over and over, again, until I had to tear my mouth from his and scream my pleasure. It made me fight my body to keep the rhythm going, because I knew there were bigger orgasms waiting if we could just both hold on for a few . . . more . . . thrusts.
J.J. crawled near the head of the bed. She was watching us with something close to the intensity on Nathaniel’s face; in that moment I knew she wasn’t kidding about voyeurism being one of her major kinks. Nathaniel noticed her, too, and we had a moment of looking at each other. It was a moment where one of us could have wanted more privacy, or less.
“I like an audience,” he said.
“I know you do,” I said, and smiled at him, and I kissed him again, so we could do that dance of eager mouths and bodies.
He pulled back enough to say, “Fuck me, Anita, please, fuck me.”
I smiled and sat up straighter, so that I was riding just his hips. He started thrusting harder, deeper, using the extra flexibility he had in his hips to force himself deeper than most men could get with the woman on top. The extra length meant he hit deeper than normal, and I had a moment where it made me close my eyes and stop moving, frozen on top of him, letting his body do all the work. I started moving back and forth this time so that he stayed buried as deep inside me as he and I could manage. My rhythm grew faster, almost frantic, and he stopped moving, letting me move over him, as I’d let him control before, but from one moment to the next the orgasm washed over me, through me, tearing screams from my mouth as fast as I could draw breath. I gave myself over to the frantic dance of my body over him, so that one orgasm spilled into the next, until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began, so it was a long spill of pleasure.
Nathaniel cried out, his body spasming, arms and legs straining, pulling at the ropes that held him down. The muscles in his arms and chest swelled as his body fought against the ropes, and the orgasm spilled his head back, bowing his back, so that his body half rose off the bed as far as the ropes and my body would allow.
He fell back against the bed, and I collapsed on top of him, feeling the frantic beats of our hearts in my chest. It was like I was lying on top of water that held a drumbeat of his heart, the pulse of his body, and between one beat and the next I fell through. The shields that kept us apart from each other vanished, and suddenly I felt my wrists and ankles bound with rope, hair spilling across my face, but it was a rougher texture than Nathaniel’s hair, and curly feels different against your face than straight. I was feeling my hair flung across his face. I felt “my” body inside hers, growing soft, that afterglow of release helping everything be loose and melting, as if some tension that was always there were gone, and I could finally relax deeply and completely.
I don’t know what Nathaniel felt from me in those few moments of intermingling, but I raised my head enough to feel the curly hair brush and then move from my hair, as I looked both up at my own face and down at his at the same time, so it was like being in two places at once, and then I was back inside myself, and Nathaniel blinked up at me. I wondered if I looked as startled as he did. I came back with his feelings and it was just an amazingly happy contentment, and I knew he’d gotten the same from me. I’d been told by Jean-Claude that my thoughts after sex were—not. It was one of the few times my thoughts quieted, calmed; it was the closest I got to meditating. No wonder I liked sex.
We stared at each other. “Wow,” I whispered.
He smiled. “Always,” he whispered back.
I smiled back. “Always.”
It was one of those magical romantic moments, but we weren’t alone in the room, and the other couple hadn’t had their romantic moment yet. J.J. said, “Jason, come here.” She was holding her arms out to him.
He crawled toward her over the bed and put that extra sway into the movement, so he seemed to have more muscles and vertebrae than a human could possibly have.
“Untie me,” Nathaniel said, “want to hold you.”
“I would if my lower body worked right now.”
He smiled, very happy with himself at a job well done.
Jason changed the direction of his crawl and went back to the ropes around Nathaniel’s right ankle. “Get his wrists,” he said.
“I kind of liked the idea of him still tied up while we fucked,” she said.
Jason hesitated in the midst of untying Nathaniel, and then laughed. “You can’t stay tied up forever without muscle cramps, or just getting cold.”
“Oh, okay, that makes sense,” she said.
“You’re thinking something,” Jason said, and I knew he wasn’t talking to either Nathaniel or me.
“Honestly?” she said.
“Yes,” he said.
I turned my head enough on Nathaniel’s chest to be able to watch them. I could only see J.J.’s face and the back of Jason’s body. Whatever he saw in her expression, it was lost to me; I didn’t know her well enough to interpret it.
“What?” Nathaniel whispered.
I whispered back, “Not sure.”
“I’m sorry the group sex is over. I had forgotten how much I fucking love to just watch.”
“Would you rather watch than have sex?” he asked.
“I’m so hot from seeing it all, and what I have done, it’s been amazing, and I want, need, to have sex.”
“Me, too,” Jason said, “but . . .” and he left the sentence unfinished so she could finish it.