Rehabilitation... Part 2

One of the things about our relationship that I adore is that we can talk about stuff so easily.

I had texted him about my fear only hours earlier and he had responded by saying that it would be alright and we would sort it out. He is, after all, a sex god :) My response that his sex god status was only as good as my next orgasm suddenly seemed vaguely prophetic.

Lying in the darkness, I tried to analyse the problem. How could I have changed from that 'take me now slut' to this pathetic creature? I came to the conclusion that it was purely and simply fear. I was scared that we would not be able to regain our amazing physical connection due to the mechanics of the procedure I had undergone and I was terrified of getting pregnant again, having to go through that for a second time. The very fact of him entering me unprotected, even with no intention of ejaculating, and my body went into spasms of terror, trying to block him off and stop him.

And so we talked for a while and tried to reassure my flakey cunt. It wasn't long before we were kissing again. For so many years I had forgotten how much I loved to kiss. Before Ruf, it had been such a long time since I repeatedly snogged a partner as part and parcel of making love. His mouth on mine, our tongues intertwining, our drool mixing and exchanging has the most amazing effect on me. Working me up into such a heightened state of arousal as his fingers work their magic on my clit and I know what's coming. The thing I love him to do. 'Finger... fuck.' I hardly need to even finish the second word before he is sliding them into me, finding my gspot effortlessly and taking me to the first orgasm. Arching up into him, pushing against them as I moan and writhe.

His cock is hard inside my palm as I pull him towards me and rub him around my clit, hearing him groan with desire. But he knows he must change things from before, take away the fear. He dons the protective layer that we both hate so much and flips me over onto my knees, pulls the supporting pillows under my belly and does me doggy. I am wet, wet, wet as he slides gently into me. The fear starts to dissipate. This is safe, it feels nice. I like this... just as I always have. The change of angle means that I'm not thinking of stirrups and horror but of previous pleasures. The rhythm of his pumping gets stronger and harder and I realise that I am not broken at all, just a little temperamental. The familiar sensations start to build within me taking me to a place I love to go, panting and moaning, culminating in a scream of satisfied achievement...

But the condom means that he does not get there too.