'Anything worth doing is worth overdoing.'
– Mick Jagger
I have a confession; I like to touch myself after sex. While my body and cunt are still slick and hot and swollen, I like to run my fingers over them to feel what we have done; to feel the traces that our fucking has left on my skin. It's like an immediate reminder that burns the sensations into my bones.
I like to touch where he's touched, feel what he's felt. I like to spread the hot, fresh memories of his body across mine beneath my fingers and recount each movement in slow, easy repetition. I like to eke out every last shiver, every last high, every last touch until I drown.
It's even better after he comes inside me; when my cunt is full of warm, thick spunk and I can feel it sliding through my fingers as I push them deep inside me, deep into where he has just been. I love that after slipping through my sticky folds in this way, I can taste him and me on my fingertips; his cum and mine. It's fucking irresistible.
And I can’t resist it. After we’ve had sex late at night and after we've lain together in the afterglow and can breathe easy again, EA often gets up to turn off the lights or brush his teeth or something like that. In those few moments that I'm alone and just as I fall asleep, my hands move down into my cunt to rub his spunk into my still sensitive flesh, swirling it around my clit and letting it slide between my fingers. It’s mindblowingly hot – the persisting high still dancing through me, the illicit nature of this secret wank, the texture and smell of his cum all over my hands and body – and I often come again almost immediately.
It sometimes feels wrong, to be pleasuring myself in this way so soon after we've fucked, but I think that's why I like it. The sweat has barely dried on my skin; literally moments ago, I was floating in a post-orgasmic haze, folding myself into his arms and closer to his body as I wait to come down. I was sated and I was satisfied.
And yet I still can't resist that little bit more…