Straight Man Porn - What Women Want

Jeff hunched over his keyboard, nails clicking like plastic on plastic. Bonnie and Gillian grappled on silk sheets, pillows flying, breasts bouncing just like every other Saturday porn drop. Then Jill walked in, spotted the notebook. She shut his laptop without asking. "Wrong. All wrong." She took his hand, pressed it flat. "Feel that?" Her fingers folded two of his, middle knuckles brushing the heel of her palm the way tongues brush parted lips. "You don't jab the clit like a button. You draw the skin up, light pressure, listen for the catch in breath." Jill stretched out on the couch, guided his wrist lower. The page moved from slapstick fluff to sweat-beaded heat: Bonnie on her back, knees high, Gillian resting between them, mouth open and hungry, tongue flat and slow from the fourchette up, then a teasing circle, matching the rolling hips above her. Two fingers curved in, pads gliding along the front wall until knuckles met heat and pulse, until Bonnie’s thighs shook and her hand dug into Gillian’s hair. Gillian climbed up, slick and heavy, straddling Bonnie’s face. Tongues worked and hips rocked, pussies grazing each other in slow, slick friction, both bodies rolling with the same desperate rhythm. When they came they didn’t scream in unison like wind-up toys; Bonnie gasped, suddenly silent, Gillian swore under her breath, muscles clenching around Bonnie’s fingers like a fist in wet silk.