I mean, I just can’t. As much as I talk in regular life--and it’s a lot--during sex I’m not a big conversationalist.
But what I do say—what I am during sex—is honest.
Whether it’s telling someone how I really feel about them, or hissing, “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come,” or saying everything with only the expression on my face, communication just seems deeper and more significant when there’s fucking attached.
The other day, Kelly was lying on his stomach across my bed. I was kneeling next to him and massaging his lower back and then, because they were there, his asscheeks. Kelly’s ass is smooth and firm (Thanks, swimming!) and as I was kneading his glutes my fingers accidentally slipped down toward his balls and stroked the soft, downy blond hair there.
I couldn’t help it. I said it. “Baby, I love the hair on your butt.”
“Aw, stop making fun...”
“No, I mean, technically it’s the hair at the top of your inner thighs; is that better?” I raked my fingers lightly across it, right where his balls hang.
Then, to prove I was serious, I kissed it. Then I licked it. Then he flipped me onto my back and pinned me down and I don’t think he cared about semantics anymore.
But I do. I love that boy's downysoft butt hair.