A few years ago I dated this girl, we’ll call her Em. Em was lovely, a theater girl, southern belle through and through with porcelain skin speckled with freckles, glacial blue eyes, ruby lips and sandy brown with a hint of strawberry blonde, wavy hair. Kind, funny and mischievous, we had great chemistry. Her outgoing and me the mellow ambivert, it was a good match that brought out the best in both of us. Our physical charge was also electric, with one issue- she was a hard core prude, at least one way.

You see, I found out quickly that soon after we started dating we could hardly keep our hands off each other, in the heat of the moment all good things building to crescendo, she stop. She didn’t want to sleep together in the fullest sense until if and when we got married. I respected that. As we grew in our relationship, our physicality progressed, but really only in one direction- her direction. Feeling up her boobs- which were fabulous, medium sized with medium but shapely, dark pink nipples, one of which was slightly distorted in shape but I loved anyway- turned into a hand slipping down her pants, evolved to fingering her to orgasm, usually multiple per each indulgence. Which quickly progressed to her stripping her pants off and pulling my head between her legs. I loved it, I loved doing it for her- bringing her to climax with my fingers, under my tongue with my big lips, l loved doing her and what I could do for her.

On the flip side, she only ever grabbed my cock a handful of times, and never to orgasm with a hand job. In the heat of several moments, as she’d voraciously strip me down to my boxers, begin to kiss my hips and pull at them, hinting, teasing, a hope always welling up in me, it always ended up the same way- she’d pull herself away, mount me and dry hump me, usually with her underwear back on, and mine always. It was what she was willing to give, and though disappointed, I settled. I loved her and what we had, despite desiring more. So, to the title. One especially vigorous night, after a great time out and several drinks we got back to her place and she was the most feral I’d ever scene her. She push me onto the bed, pulled up her dress and mounted me, driving and grinding her hips, grunting, moaning and whimpering as id never heard her. It was sensational, except I had jeans on. She kept going, her intensity building and while my desire was peaked, arousal at an all time high, the zipper in my jeans grating against my brought pain for the first time into an intimate experience for me. The adrenaline, the passion and the drive brought us both to completion regardless. A while later, after post coitus cuddling having changed into lounge wear, when the urge to pee became too great I made my way to the bathroom. As I removed myself from my boxers, my cock stuck to the fabric momentarily which I thought, was probably just a little residual cum. A burning soon followed and I glanced down, seeing what can only be described as a rug burn, first layer of flesh burned away by friction, on the side of my cock, weeping a bit and raw though not bloody. It fucking hurt. A few days later it scabbed over and though it healed, I still have a dark scar in reminder.