Image by the always fantastic Stuart F Taylor

This week’s guest author lives on a narrowboat, and is writing about fucking on a narrowboat. Because there isn’t easy access to a computer, Sara drafted this post in an email and sent it on to me for editing. I couldn’t bear to edit too much of it, because I think the breathless, raw tone adds a lot to the eroticism of the writing. The confined space, the eagerness to fuck, and the pure and simple pleasure of the experience. Enjoy!

Fucking on a narrowboat

I wake suddenly. I always do that. And he’s there, drinking a beer and reading a book.

There’s not much space on a narrowboat, so in a way we’re always intimate. But I sit up and glance at him, without words, and he knows.

Eye contact is enough.

I sit up straighter, looking at his posture and his eyes. He puts his book down, and right then I know what will happen.

He doesn’t even ask me to take off all my clothes – it’s cold on the boat in the winter – he just gestures and I stand up from my bunk.

Then bend over.

He quietly undoes my belt, letting my combats fall to the floor. I’m passive, as if I’m waiting patiently, but inside I’m eager. This passivity, it’s just me holding back my need. I can feel him against my back and I want to buck towards him, pressing myself back against him.

But I’m a good girl so I stay as still as I can.

The tip of his cock slides around my vulva. We generally don’t need lube – I’m wet enough. Eager enough.

I think about begging, but don’t.

It hurts when he first goes in, but I’m used to pain. And then suddenly he’s all the way in.

It doesn’t take long for either of us to come. I can do it just by thinking about it and using my muscles down there. I could do it now whilst writing this, if I wanted to.

I adore the feeling of him inside me.

Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t own me. I’m a fairly independent person. People get freaked out when I say he is twice my age, but who cares about an age gap? We get along and read books, listen to Radio 4 and debate things. And we fuck, like this, on the boat.

My alcohol counsellor kept saying I should find someone my own age, but I’m older than I look. I’m an atheist, but hey – it’s possible I’ve lived many lives before. And besides, we get along. We enjoy each other.

So there’s my life. The sex is amazing. And I love these times I get to let go – to relinquish my control.

To let someone use me, but I’m also using them in return.

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