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You've been circling each other for months. Both attracted, both eager to fuck, but neither one in a rush. You know it's going to happen when the time is right. You eye each other seductively, brush up against each other teasingly, stroke each other surreptitiously. You make promises to each other - "my pussy is drugs", "I will fuck the dogshit out of you".

The anticipation builds, boils, bubbles over until the day comes when it’s time to fuck. You take him home with you, sitting chastely beside him on the ride, envisioning what is about to happen. You let him in, you take off your shoes, you begin to lock up and turn off lights.

Then suddenly he is on you. He’s kissing you hard, hands gripping your hair, deep moans escaping your throat. You’re pushed up against the wall and he is everywhere on you, his hands roaming over your body, pulling clothes away, his hardness pressed up against your softness. You’re gripping him wherever your hands can reach, pulling him closer to you, your head spinning so you don’t quite know what is happening.

And then he has lifted you up, carried you to the bed, thrown you down. He is looking at you devouringly, avariciously. He’s about to eat you alive.

And then he is fucking you. It is not gentle and reverent. Nor is it tender and worshipful. It’s not rough or savage. It’s not intensely teasing. He’s not asking you what you want or making you beg for it.

Instead he takes you in hand and puts you through the paces. Your legs spread wide and flung over his shoulders as he buries his face in your pussy. He’s flipping you over, your body contorted in ways you’ve never imagined. Before you know what’s happening, you’re squatting backwards over his dick, your quads firing as you pump up and down.

Quick as you can say fuck my brains out, he’s spun you around. You’re in a backbend with his dick in your mouth as his hands spread you over and he tongues your pussy from behind. You’re moaning loudly, nearly screaming, but you don’t quite know whether it’s from pleasure or exertion.

The next thing you know you’re in a handstand, straining to hold yourself up as he pounds into you from behind. As the orgasm builds in you, a small part of you gives a prayer of thanks that you haven’t been neglecting your shoulders in your morning workouts.

Your bed is sliding across the room as he flings you and fucks you. He’s giving new meaning to the word manhandle. You feel every muscle in your body as he bends you, twists you, pulls you. Never losing his rhythm as his dick pounds into you relentlessly.

You stop trying to grasp what is happening and you give over to the sensation of being fucked like you’ve never been fucked before. And when it is finally over, you collapse in a heap, panting heavily, your head spinning. Your pussy throbbing, your muscles cramping, the night’s events already a blur. There is only one clear thought in your mind: he put me through the paces.

I’ve never been much of a fan of acrobatic fucks myself. I’ve experienced it once and I liked it, but given the choice I’d much rather be teased and taunted than to be thrown and pounded and twisted like a playground toy. But what say you guys? Are you a fan of acrobatics in the bedroom? Got any good stories to tell? It’s Friday – overshare with me in the comments.