Here's my first shot at a sex scene. Challenge: not allowed to overtly use any explicit sexual terminology

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Untitled

	Practice

	The bed is soft, but small. My knees spill over the sides, threatening to take my feet, my legs, then me with them. My bra is tight, almost stifling. The straps stretch against my fingers when I tug at them, inciting feelings in you the more I fidget. Good feelings. The bed yields against my weight as I roll, gracefully, I hope, off the left side. The white sheets pair a nice compliment with the beige of the room around it. My bra clasps resist little against my experienced fingers. I twist gently, then tug, and the straps come loose. Cool relief spreads across my back, just below my shoulderblades. I trace my fingers up and down my body, focusing around my thighs. Your breath is hot. Even from here, I can feel it. My bra feels light as air as I lift it up and over my head.  My nipples ache, and stand off my breasts like little mountains. My breasts are supple and springy, and my hands need not be firm as I tug at my nipples and squeeze my breasts. They are like balloons, filled with mashed potato. The thought makes me smile. I can see the bulge forming at your groin, straining against the pant leg it is trapped in. Soft, slightly prickly warmth meets my fingers as I slip them beneath the waistband of my panties, blue boyshorts with no lace and no nonsense. I part my lips, and the gelatinous flesh is hot and slippery between them. There is a little spark of pleasure every time my fingers so much as twitch down there, lighting across my body, promising to force out little moans if I continue. The bed is fluffy and inviting, agreeing with a break creak when I lay on it. My fingers slip easily inside and you can barely take it. I can see a vein on your neck, threatening to explode. I beckon, and your mouth kisses mine, then moves lower, to please another pair of lips. Little moans escape me and my muscles gently spasm in response to your tongue’s advance. I must have you within me. You are like a rock, or some sort of diamond. You are as a rocketship, preparing to do what rocketships do best, but whether you end up in all the wonder of space, or trapped in orbit, doomed to mediocrity, only time would tell.  

	We set up your equipment together, my tongue bouncing and caressing a stone, your stone, and my body aching for our union. Your clothing is half gone, thrown aside like the flag of a surrendering nation after a war. You have grown. You push me gently, back down against the mattress. It springs against me, but only a little. Your fingers are like fire inside me, sending waves of warmth up my body to crash against the cap of my skull. You part my legs, the flesh tingling as you touch it. You brush me gently with the tip, and then you are inside me, barreling through like a train. My head is beautiful chaos, a maelstrom of sensation; your thighs pound against mine as though you wanted to hurt me with the force, and then you are gone with a great burst of pleasure and moisture. 

	A hand beneath my stomach flips me over, and I begin to prop myself up on my hands and knees. I am still struggling up when you reenter me. The force is exciting, and another orgasm reaches a point of no return as I stumble forward into new pillows, flinging them in every direction. You feel like a skyscraper inside me. Like the Empire State Building. Your fingers clamp into my buttocks as you explore my insides, leaving red prints where your hands were. My brain is a blur of white as I place a hand against your stomach. I need a break. My lips caress you as I suck you into my mouth, my hand tickling you, gently squeezing. It feels like jumbo jellybeans. I can’t breathe, but I don’t feel that it’s a priority at the moment. I suck you deeper, and I can feel you flex in my throat. I pop you out, and cough a little, but I like it. You stand, a little smile on your face, and lay on your back, cock standing up at attention, looking massive in the moment. 

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oh god