Categories
Lovers USAmerican Lovers Sex

Sex with The Madman

You ever have one of those stupid relationships where you put up with having sex so few times that you can remember all of them? An apology to my clit.

Yeah, I know that’s not stupid for everyone, but probably if you’re not into hot sex stories you don’t want to be reading this one. 

For me, that’s just fucking dumb. Just the utter idiocy of me choosing to be with someone that has a low or non-existent sex drive, or if that person and I have compatibility or initiation issues then still choosing being with them: for me also stupid.

The times I have stuck around even though? It’s because they were hot. So hot. So very, very hot.

The Madman was the ultimate expression of this folly and hotness. Sweet fucking Jesus he was hot.

Hot in both looks and personality. In his vulnerability, his invincibility, and his insanity. We were sweet as honey, and explosive as TNT.

Weapons drawn, voices raised.

He stands shorter than I am, a couple inches. About 5’7”. He has thick, brown hair, huge, anime-large green eyes, thick lips, and a nose that gives away his half Ashkenazi, half Sephardic heritage. His skin is olive tinged from the latter. Usually a few day’s growth on his face. Hair always a mess. Body taught and proportional, wiry yet soft from motocross and rock climbing and building houses and weed smoking blood sugar swings throughout. Thick bodyhair. Pale skin at his core. Beautiful, beautiful man.

Born and raised on the Westside of Los Angeles. If anyone in Hollywood could play him, it’d be Hugh Jackman.

The Madman is armed to the teeth. Guns everywhere. For more on this please read my book Down and Out in California:

“The Madman has a fascination with guns. I clean the house, trying to keep the suspect trim from grinding into the carpet. I often find guns I’ve never seen tucked in new places, under the mattress, in a drawer, behind the dresser. Always loaded, safety off. 

“What’s the point of them, otherwise?” he’ll say. They don’t really bother me. I feel protected. Especially once when we go out shooting and I see his facility with them. I watch him pull the skeet and assemble a gun from parts, shoot the clay and then disassemble the gun before the pieces hit the ground. He never stands and aims, all his practices involve running drills. I’m well aware that guns and marijuana are not a legal combination.”

He does illegal things fearlessly, drives fast, talks big game, takes huge physical risks like motocross and other extreme sports, and can build a house start to finish. In short, he’s smoking hot.

He is sweet and kind and ever-so gentle with me most of the time. The Madman has an anxiety disorder that manifests his panic attacks as rage attacks. He loses control and sight of what he is doing, and flies into a blind rage. He stops short of hurting me, but not my stuff. 

And so, hot, wild, full of drama and abuse cycles – and unfortunately, very little sex. But what of it there was? 

Fucking hot. Such hot sex stories run through my mind from that ill-fated tryst.

Hot Sex Stories

-Hot Sex Story I-

We’re at Burning Man in the back of his trailer, in the king size bed. We’ve been making out for hours. Gingerly touching me, my face, my body. Soft, perfect kisses. Intense looks. Deep presence. Slowly, sweetly stripping me. 

He jumps up and runs water over his rough hands to clean them, then comes back with a sheepish grin on his face. 

“I didn’t want to touch her with dusty hands.” he explains, softly placing his hand over my mound. He slides himself next to me, propping himself up on an elbow, shaking his head to move his hair out of his eyes. “Hi.” he says, beaming at me.

“Hi.” I reply as I look back at the love streaming out of his face. 

He delicately runs his finger from top to bottom of my pussy like he is stroking a flower petal. Softly, softly gathering juice as he pushes ever-so-slightly between my lips at the bottom, slowly bringing it up my lips to my clit. 

My lips slowly part as he repeats this a few times before sliding a little further inside my lips and massaging them around my clit in tiny, detailed, slow circles. I tremble with anticipation and attention. The Madman continues his circles of my clit allowing them to widen slightly and only deepening as my lips part to let him further access to my clit. 

In no time, I am aching for his cock

“I want you desperately.” I tell him. He smiles and continues staring in my eyes while circling my clit gently with his finger. My cunt throbs. I lose track of time, I’m soaking.

I feel my orgasm coming like a drop of rain in a pond, rippling out through my body and a cable wheel pulling weight. The wheel tightens, the cables lose slack, and there’s another drip in the pond and another, and another, and then a pause foretelling the coming rainstorm. The wheel loosens as he continues his precise, gentle, loving circling of my clitoris. 

And then my clit sings, the thunder rolls, the lightning flashes, and the rain falls in torrents, clattering on the surface of the water, the wheel catches gear and pulls the cable taut and I explode into the most powerful orgasm I have ever had, screaming and screaming his name.

All the while, he smiles, looking me, kissing my face. Neck. I listlessly grab for his cock.

“Please, give it to me.” I beg him.

“You want me inside here?” he asks, every so gently dipping his finger inside me just the tip.

“Yes.” I beg.

“No, you’re sure?” he asks like he can’t believe it. I’ve never wanted anyone’s cock more in my life at this moment. I don’t tell him that. 

The condom is on and he’s about to enter and he says “I know this sounds stupid but I can’t. My back is killing me. I have broken vertebrae and they’ve been really acting up. I can’t move that way.” 

I’m very disappointed but I forgive him and we cuddle for another day afterwards. 

-Hot Sex Story II-

It’s months and visits into our long distance relationship before The Madman finally puts his cock inside me. I’ve been waiting for it.

We’re helping a friend of his kick. His friend insists it’s just the flu, but both of us know better. We put him in a room with a plastic mattress cover and many changes of sheets, bring him soup, and let him sweat it out. He does, and it goes fine.

The Madman is grateful to me for letting this happen at my house and when he feels love and gratitude he feels intimate. 

We cook for each other, feed each other. He tells me stories and secrets, holds me, kisses me. Tells me he misses me when I get back from the bathroom. He is utterly and totally co-dependent.

I have my period, so haven’t been as forward as usual with trying to sleep with him, as I don’t want to be the first time he actually penetrates me to be when I’m bleeding.

But it is.

We’re lying naked together, face to face. Staring into each other’s eyes and smiling and laughing. I throw a leg over him and he looks at me, eyes flared, and pushes me to the mattress and into me in one sudden motion, no communication. 

It’s awkward, and I’m not ready, I feel stretched and yet super turned on. I’ve wanted him inside me for so long.

“I don’t think we should be doing this without a condom, period or not.” I say. I know he wants a baby. He doesn’t really get too specific about who he wants a baby with. He wouldn’t put his dick in me if he didn’t want a baby with me, though. Even though I don’t want a baby it turns me on.

He withdraws. “You’re right. I just wanted to see if we fit. We do.”

“We do.” I acknowledge.

-Hot Sex Story III-

It’s almost a year later and he’s in my bed. Stroking my cunt softly, specifically, riding each contour. Circling my clit. Pressing his hips into me, closer, and closer. 

When he switches from his finger to his cock I don’t notice at first. When I do I am gasping. He uses it as a dainty paintbrush, caressing me into frenzy. I come twice as he rubs my clit, smiling at me, eyes locked in intense care. The third time he leaves the tip of his rock hard, straining, circumcised half Sephardic, half Ashkenazi cock pressed into my clit and just pulses, and I come again, rollicking orgasm that takes me from ankles to wrists around and through meridians I haven’t ridden.

I kiss him, thirstily. He smiles and laughs, humming into my mouth.

And then he continues the precision, gently, slowly, entering me, following every fold, never fighting me, polishing himself inside me ever so slightly, slowly, carefully, exactly. He finds all the spot inside me that trigger pleasure and holds on them, pressing them, moving against them. His movements are often almost imperceptible.

I’m coming over and over and over. The Madman shows no interest in anything but using his dick to slowly, slowly, paint my insides with pleasure. It lasts hours, this exploratory mining of my pussy with his dick. And then, all of a sudden…..

“Ok. No more sex.” he says, getting up. 

I’m on the verge of tears, angry for all the times that sex hasn’t been what it was this time. But that’s the thing about madmen – they’re mad. They may be the best hot sex stories in the world, but that bestness is so fleeting, and trying to chase it is enough to drive one mad as well.


For more about The Madman please read my book, Down and Out in California:

But wait there’s more!

This is him too.


DON’T LET THE CENSORS SEPARATE US! PLEASE SCROLL DOWN, ENTER YOUR E-MAIL, AND HIT “EMBARK”. IT’LL SUBSCRIBE YOU TO A TWICE MONTHLY POST ALERT.

Incoming Transmission!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.