Hollaback Girl.

AAG and I were chatting recently and it got me thinking, remembering, postulating.

There was this one time that I was secretly being fucked and we had to be absolutely silent. Certainly no slappity-slap of skin, not even heavy breathing. Couldn't let the sheets rustle, even. It couldn't be helped (the fucking, I mean). So we proceeded slowly and very very quietly. I couldn't even gasp as he slid delicously inside me. I bit my lips. To avoid creaking the bed, he deliberately ground into me. Not being able to speak his name or give him even a whisper of encouragement. . .I only burned hotter. I'm usually a bit of a dirty talker, egging him on, telling him how much I like it, need it. It's not staged for his benefit; I'm just expressive.

But this was all restraint. All control. Inside I was a frenzied tornado of lust. Outside, however, I barely smiled for fear of the crackling my lips would make over my gums.

Then I whimpered. Barely. His eyes opened wide in alarm. He clamped his hand over my mouth. Now was I not only mute, but masked. He could only see my eyes. Being that controlled sent me over the edge. God, I wanted to yell and holler. I wanted to beg for him to pound me harder. I wanted the bed to creak and bang against the wall. I wanted us to rip each other apart with savage lust.

Instead, we silently and intensely continued to drive ourselves mad.

When I came, I thought the top of my head would blow off.