the place I go when I sing

"How many times do you think you could make her come, in an hour?" I was in bed with anarchist boyfriend talking about the latest fantasy about the new girlfriend. 

The idea was that we three would go out to dinner then back to her place, where he would fuck her while I read and wrote at her kitchen table.

"Three," he said.  I imagined them in the bedroom, trying to be quiet, trying to make the best use of their hour, excited and happy.

"How would you make her come?" I asked.

"With my dick, rubbing up against her clit, pushing in and out of her hole," he said.  "And with my tongue."

"How about the third time?" I asked.

"With my fingers," he said.

"Would you like me there in the kitchen, so nearby?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. 

"How often would you want to get your dick sucked by her and to fuck her?" I asked.

"Ten times a week," he said.

"You'd want to go every day?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah," he said.

"How often would you want to get your dick sucked by me and to fuck me?" I asked.

"Twenty times a week," he said.

"Would you become a hornier person from having her?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"How would you lick her pussy?" I asked.

"First I would lick her lips.  Then I would push my tongue between her lips and lick her clit..."

He was touching my nipples all this time, and it felt incredible.  We lay close in the bed, our bodies pressed together.

"When you fucked her, would you wear a condom?" I asked.

"No," he said.  "I would want my sperm to go up inside her."

I thought about that.  It's a fantasy--he doesn't need a condom.

"Would you tell her your loved her?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I only love you," he said.  I was surprised when he said that.

"Would she give you better blow jobs than mine?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"But what if she gave you better blow jobs than mine?" I asked.  "Would you lie to me?"

"No," he said.

"What if her blow jobs made you love her?" I asked.

"They wouldn't," he said.

Then he wiggled up on the bed.  "Are you trying to get me to blow you now?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

I had been touching his dick and playing with his balls.  Caressing his hip then back to his dick, his balls, squeezing them, back to his hip.

I smelled him there.  "You smell good," I said.

"What do I smell like?" he asked.

"Like love," I said.

"Suck my dick," he said.  "Please."

"There's a little bit of precome," I said.  "It's slippery."  I rubbed the precome up and down.

Then I licked his dick and sucked at it.  I blew him and stopped.  He touched my nipples and I put spit on my hand and rubbed the head of his dick with my palm.  "That feels so good," he said.

I blew him and gagged.  The slippery spit moved to the front of my mouth.

"Do you want to come?" I asked him.  "Do you want me to make you come?"

"Yes," he said.  "I want you to swallow my come."

Eventually he did come in my mouth.  I moved myself up and down on his dick as it spasmed in my mouth.  I swallowed.  His beautiful semen was in me.

"Do you like those big tits?" I asked as he rubbed my nipples.

"Yeah," he said.

"Are they pretty for you?" I asked.

"They're beautiful for me," he said.

I was rubbing my clit, which felt plump and slippery. 

"What do you want me to say when I come?" I asked.

"I want you to say my name," he said.  "Look at me."

I said his name.  I chanted it and asked it as if I was begging, as if he was the one who was going to make me come.

Eventually the waves pounded inside me and I said his name as I came.  Then language was lost and I couldn't look at him anywhere.  I went somewhere else, but still with him, like to the place I go when I sing.