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Mirrored Touch

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John makes love to you like he makes love to himself.

Maybe ‘making love’ is a strong term, but it’s the one you like to use. It varies from time to time, but for the most part, John touches you like he touches himself.

You’ve watched plenty of times to notice. Occasionally, after a particularly exhausting job or when you’re not feeling in the mood, you’ll doze off curled in bed, only to awaken hours later by the sound of rustling and labored breathing.

You don’t mind it of course. Everyone masturbates, or should. And while you and John enjoy a healthy sex life, sometimes one of you just isn’t in the mood. Moreso you than John, but it has been known to happen.

It wasn’t until recently that you started to notice how his hand slides down the swell of your hip the same way it slides down his chest, how he cups you first just to feel you, before giving you a firm rub with his palm, even how he starts fucking you slowly, taking his time to savor the feeling.

Of course, there are differences, since there’s only so much he can do to himself. Like how he runs his hands up your spine when you’re bent forward as he lays behind you, buried deep inside. Or when he wraps his hand tightly around your throat, yanking you to his chest so he can fuck you harder, hot breath ghosting across your ear.

Yes, those differences are purely your preference and he obliges wholeheartedly.

Another difference is, he’s silent when he’s touching himself, say for harsh breathing and the occasional sharp inhale. However, when he’s inside you, you can’t get him to shut up, as he mumbles sweet nothings, or filthy promises, depending on what mood he’s in.

But when he’s close to coming, when you’ve already been satisfied and are laying in a shuddering heap trying to catch your breath, he’s back to thinking about himself, pumping hard and fast, chasing his orgasm with complete abandon as you long for that moment right before.

His breathing hitches, his grip tightens, and then he’s coming with a loud moan and erratic jerk of his hips.

The silence that follows is always comfortable, sated, and relaxed.

If he’s been taking care of himself, he cleans up and spoons you, draping his arm around your waist to pull you close. If you’ve had sex, you drape yourself over his chest, pulling him into a lazy, tired kiss.

No matter what, John holds you close and you listen to the sounds of his breathing evening out, until eventually you too are lulled to sleep.