Girl on the Net

Dunno about you but here at GOTN HQ it’s been a pretty sweaty week. I have stuck to every chair I’ve sat on, and broken my personal record of ‘number of cold showers in a day.’ At the time of writing, it still has not rained. Please enjoy this perspiration-focused erotica about some seriously sweaty fucking, written because I am desperate to turn this cloyingly-icky-humidity-sweat into lovely, wholesome fucksweat. 

She fucks him and she sweats. Sweats like she’s trying to make him drown in it. She works his body like he’s equipment at the gym – grinding, bouncing, riding, until tendrils of hair at the edge of her forehead stick to it in dark, swirling patterns. She fucks him and she sweats.

He lies beneath her, giving encouraging grunts. A moan here or a sigh there, occasionally placing his delicate hands on her slick-and-sweaty hips. Fingers grasping uselessly, unable to find purchase as the sweat pours off her and makes her whole body too slippery to touch.

She fucks him and she sweats. So that she sweats.

And this kind of sweaty fucking doesn’t feel good the way fucking normally does: it feels better. Like tearing up hills on a bike ride in the middle of summer: perspiration waterfalling down between her breasts. Tickling the skin at the nape of her neck, gushing out in wave after wave, anointing her with evidence of her exertion.

Falling like rain onto his eager, upturned face.

She grinds harder – rides like she’s urging him onwards. Her arms tremble as she grips the rail at the head of the bed. And when she looks up to the ceiling to grit her teeth and ride harder, sweat starts to pool at the corners of her eyes – delicious, stinging evidence of just how hard she’s fucking him.

It doesn’t matter if he notices her efforts. The pleasure of doing this is like that of a solo run or a lonely, speedy hike up a challenging mountain. She fucks him like it’s exercise, because the sweat itself is what she wants. She likes to feel the tension in her muscles as they power through aches and trembles and those moments when you wonder if you might just have to give up. She will not give up until her muscles force her to. This is fucking as an act of will, and it’s the will she’s getting off on.

She enjoys the sensation of pushing her body further and harder: the challenge doesn’t come from fucking him till she comes, but from fucking him till her limbs are sore and her joints ache and her cunt feels bruised and spent.

She fucks him, she sweats, and as she tunes out the sensation of his cock inside her, she can tune in to the feeling of those sweat-droplets tentatively inching their way down her body. Then speeding up, faster and faster, until the droplets turn to rivulets and she can no longer discern where each trickling pathway starts and ends.

He stares up at her, shining and wet and miles away, and admires the firm set of her jaw as she grinds her hips further down onto his cock. He tenses the muscles at the base of his dick to try and hold off from coming: he loves to watch her ride him like this. Enjoys the display of power and stamina and fierce determination – the look on her face is almost one of bloodlust.

She fucks him and she sweats, and as he stares up at the matted wet hair plastered to her face and shoulders, and her tits shining with the proof of her exertions, he cannot help but rear up and lick drops of salty perspiration from her nipples.

She barely notices.

Onwards, harder and faster and more powerful. She yanks ragged breaths from the air and her hands become so wet with sweat that she starts to lose her grip on the rail at the head of the bed. Thighs now so clammy that she can barely grip him between them. The hair on his chest has grown darker and matted, like the hair on her head, as she covers both of them in a thin sheen of her effort. Her sweat. Her power.

She fucks him. Hard. And when she’s finally done with fucking him – not after she’s come or after he’s come, but just when she’s done – she lets out an exhausted sigh and rolls over onto the bed. Spent. Empty. Panting and wet and trembling. Feeling every single atom of each muscle in her limbs singing with victory. Revelling in the rush of power at knowing just how hard she’s worked her body.

He, shellshocked, lies beside her. Turns his head to one side to admire her profile, drinking in the sweat and the mess and the exhaustion and the way the moisture glints off her stomach and tits. She glistens in the sunlight, like a goddess.

Tentatively, he reaches out to stroke her slippery skin, gathering pools of perspiration in his hand. Then, after a murmured – awestruck – “Thank you,” – he wraps that trembling hand around his dick.

This sweaty fucking post was inspired by the Kink of the Week topic ‘exercise’ – click below to see who else is joining in!