The average hetereosexual man doesn't know what it's like to be fucked. Just parse the words slowly: g-e-t f-u-c-k-e-d. Even the words convey some of the vulnerability, uncertainty and, honestly, powerlessness a woman can feel when she is on the receiving end of a penis attached to this larger, stronger creature who is suddenly inside her, a part of her, and yet not equally physically vulnerable.
And women don't know what it's like to fuck someone: to have that power, that tool that can give so much pleasure, that is the source of such independent power, iconography -- an amoral, unstoppable will of it own!! -- and yet insecurity (is it big enough? can I keep this erection?).
Once when I was visiting my lover Ron in Los Angeles, I made a detour to a wonderful shop called the Pleasure Chest, in one of the Russian sections near Hollywood. It was the kind of place a woman could shop unmolested by creeps. I bought some items. I had a plan.
At his place, we went through some hot preliminaries, but I soon took charge. I put him in a hot tub and lovingly bathed him, soaping his cock and rubbing it with a face cloth, washing his balls and anus. Once he was dry, I put him in bed and blindfolded him.
First, I kissed and tongued his entire front, from his ears and neck to his toes, then worked my way up each leg. His beautiful cock looked almost painfully erect, but I cruelly only gave it passing attention, a light kiss here, a brief slip into my warm, wet mouth. Then I made him turn over and get on his knees.
"Bend your head down and raise your ass, baby," I commanded, remembering all the times men had told me the same thing. I caressed the insides of his thighs, his balls and hips, ran my hands strongly up and down his back. Then the KY was on my finger and I eased it into his anus. It was very tight and warm inside. I finger fucked him with one hand as I used the other to tease his balls and cock. Then I slipped in two fingers and he winced, then moaned.
It took me a minute to navigate the contraption. No talking. Just lie there, baby. Soon I had a cock. I would be gentle; it was only a six-inch strap-on, as thick as my first boyfriend's real dick. I lay it at the edge of his anus and he instinctively lurched forward, but I grabbed his hips and made him stay.
(Let me add right now that Ron is one of the most macho guys I've been with: athlete, former Marine vet of Gulf War I, and as a sports writer was always around the heavy duty male culture. He's a big guy, too. But he was willing to play, so...)
Suddenly I was seized by a primal lust and I drove my "cock" straight in. I don't think I was too rough, just going steady and slow but without stopping. I wanted to fuck this man. I was going to fuck this man, and even an atomic bomb going off out the window wouldn't stop me. Then I was in to the hilt and he groaned loudly, "Linda, you're fucking me!"
Indeed I was. I played this way for some time, entranced by being on the other end of the cock, as it were. I imagined so many times I had been fucked and how the boys and men just seemed to lose themselves to the stronger, insatiable will of the penis. True, I didn't have that urge to come, but I had great imagination. I thrust in and out, holding tightly to his ass, aroused by the sight of his body below me. As I fucked him, I tightened and eased my legs and hips, did some kegels, and had my own baby orgasms.
When I was done, I left the dildo in his ass and came around underneath, sucking his cock while I held the toy in one hand and fucked his ass. He lasted about 30 seconds before giving me two huge spurts of semen, then more. I swallowed as fast as I could -- I was on my back -- so I didn't drown in all the tasty man-goo. We both collapsed in a heap of sweaty flesh, the sounds of LA seeping in the windows, my store-bought dick still hard and ready on the bed.