What does it feel like to be a woman who pegs, or a man who gets pegged? Erotica icon, Pimenta Cítrica shares a two-sided account of a shared pegging experience.
HER
He blinked twice as his whole face contorted, adjusting to the feeling. I let out a shaky sigh. It felt like time was standing still a little bit. I couldn’t believe it was finally happening, after months of fantasizing about it.
“Are you okay?” He looked at me. Fuck, he looked beautiful. He looked so beautiful we needed a new word for beautiful. His eyes were sparkling earnestly. He had opened himself to me in every way possible.
“Yes.” He whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. I leaned down and captured his lips, tasting his desperation. Delicious and addictive, and we were just getting started.
“I’m gonna go slow, okay?” I warned him, before firmly planting my fists on the mattress and supporting my weight so I could thrust into him with my purple silicon cock.
He moaned low in his throat, the sound ripping from him, inhumanly hot, like he couldn’t help it, like it had slipped from his hands.
I did go slow. I launched forward, glueing our sweaty chests together. The air was a bit stuffy in the room, the rudely orange September sun knocking on the window, making his eyes glow as I thrusted again. He clasped at me, pupils wide, like he couldn’t comprehend the sensations he was experiencing.
There’s something so wonderful, so filthy, so primal, about seeing a man arching against the pillows like that, about seeing him open everything up – legs, ass, heart – and allow himself to be completely vulnerable.
To be fucked and possessed.
“I wanna make you feel good,” I promised, picking up speed with my hips. His nails dug into my back. There it was – that delectable whimper once again. He sounded so fucking desperate, and I wanted him to plunge into that feeling until he didn’t recognize himself anymore.
HIM
I could feel my breath growing shallow. There was barely any air in that room, I was gasping for it. Everything was too much.
Never in my life I would have imagined that one day I would be on my back with my legs spread far wide, letting a woman fuck me up the ass.
Something deep inside of me still was screaming this was wrong, and somehow, it made the whole thing even hotter.
She thrusted again and it was like a kaleidoscope of little colorful stars exploded before my eyes. I felt so full, and yet so open. She was brushing against a delicious spot inside of me and I had never felt anything like it.
Sure, I had played there before, fingered myself, even used a plug once, but this was a different level. It was so intense, the pressure so relentless, and at the same time, not enough.
“M-more,” the mumble left my lips seemingly before my brain could stop it. She smirked at me. She looked so sexy, so powerful.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, please,” I begged, clinging to her. And she gave me what I begged for.
She began thrusting harder and I all but subbed onto her lips. Fuck. How can this feel so good?
I spent so much time trying to be a man, making so much effort to be powerful, covering my tracks, doing everything I could to escape this exact feeling right here, this powerlessness, this pure vulnerability.
Why? It was so fucking liberating.
I surrendered myself completely. To her, to her cock, to my pleasure, to the newfound freedom in lying down and taking it, being taken, relishing in not doing anything but being reduced to a sweaty, incoherent mess, thrusting into the air, my diamond hard cock glistening with pearls of precum.
I looked at her in panic, overwhelmed by sensation, looking for confirmation in her eyes that this was okay, it was welcome. And she smiled at me.
“You look gorgeous,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”
I smiled back.
I did.
Iso
Iso is a writer and filmmaker based in East London. She is passionate about all things erotic and leads a sexy, shame-free life in hope that she can inspire others to do the same. Originally from a Northern seaside town, she is naturally drawn to the best things in life: candyfloss, trashy karaoke bars and heart-shaped sunglasses.
Pimenta Cítrica
Ana aka Pimenta Cítrica (meaning something like citric & spicy in Portuguese) is a Berlin based erotic writer and pleasure activist. Her work consists of creating sex-positive, inclusive, and feminist content for various platforms.
