Sometimes Randy and I have plank-offs. Whoever wins gets oral. I’m up to six minutes now. I’m pretty sure I can hold this position at least that long. But it really depends on what’s at stake.

“As long as you need me to,” I say.

Randy’s grin is all devious sexiness. “Good answer, ’cause the longer you hold it, the more you get to come.”

My clit throbs at the mention of coming. Oh, sweet Jesus, Randy’s on a mission tonight. I don’t point out that he’s the winner, so he should probably be the one having all the orgasms. He hasn’t mastered the male multiple O yet, so I’m happy to manage that situation until he does.

Randy lets go of my shorts, which also means his knuckles are no longer pinching my clit. I make a sad sound, which quickly becomes a groan when he fists his extra-hard cock and gives it a stroke.

“I’m pretty sure these shorts are screwed.” He slips a finger through what I imagine is stretched-out material. However, I can’t see it because my head is way lower than my crotch.

“I guess so, since you’re about to screw me while I’m wearing them.”

Randy rubs the head of his cock over my clit. It’s like a jolt of electricity is shooting through my body, and its end point is his incredible penis. I make some kind of unintelligible sound or word, or a sound and word combined. And then his magic cock is gone and the noise I’m making isn’t a happy one.

“I forgot to do something important.” Randy crouches down and grabs my left ass cheek—I assume he may still be fisting his cock with his right hand.

The hot press of his tongue against my clit makes me gasp, but the slow stroke up makes me moan. Then Randy does the one thing guaranteed to make me come fast and hard. He doesn’t swirl his tongue or lick me like I’m an ice cream cone he wants to savor. Oh no. Randy flattens his tongue against my clit and starts sucking. I have no idea why this feels as good as it does, but every time it sends me right over the edge.

He doesn’t stop there, though, because this is Randy Ballistic we’re talking about, and he can go forever when he wants to. Also, he likes to torture me with orgasms sometimes, and tonight seems to be one of those nights. Instead of giving me some time to recover, he keeps sucking. So of course I try to escape his suctioning mouth by dropping my hips.

He releases my clit with a pop, and his beard skims over the sensitive skin. “Nuh-uh, remember what I said about holding this position?”

I give him a bleary-eyed, questioning look, because I can barely remember my own damn name right now.

“The longer you hold it, the more you get to come.”

“I didn’t think you were actually serious.”

“Oh, I’m serious.” To prove how serious he is, he re-suctions his mouth to my clit and resumes sucking until I come again.

I have no idea how long I’ve been holding this position, but my legs are shaking, and I’ve got a serious head rush going on. Randy gets back on his knees between my legs, returning to his previous torture of cock-to-clit rubbing. When I’m close to coming again, he slides low and eases inside. Just the head, though.

At this point the muscles in my thighs are burning, and I feel a calf cramp coming on, but I’m determined to make it through the sexing in this damn position, because if I do, the next time we play this game, and I get whatever I want, I’m going to make him do some kind of acrobatic stunt. Randy uses one hand to keep the crotch of my stretched-out shorts pulled out of the way so he can watch while he eases inside me.

“You look so fucking hot right now, luscious.”

“You should take a picture,” I suggest.

Randy looks around for his phone, but it’s not on the coffee table. “Fuck. My phone is charging.” For a second it seems like he’s debating whether to stop what he’s doing and get it, or fuck it and keep going.

He chooses the latter, which is definitely preferable considering how long I’ve been doing a half-bridge on the couch and also how much I’d like all of his dick inside me, not just the head. Randy smooths his tattooed hand up my thigh and pushes inside.

I groan, partly because it feels good and also because I’m trying to lift my hips farther and my quads feel like they’re on fire. Randy takes a little bit of pressure off when he holds my right hip, but it’s not enough to alleviate the burn, which is becoming an orgasm distraction. Though I have had three already, and he’s only going to have one. This round, anyway.

The biggest issue is that the couch, as comfy as it may be for lying-down sex, isn’t all that practical for acrobatic sex. Randy’s learning this as he tries to pick up thrusting momentum but struggles with the uneven, soft surface.

It’s fine with me. It still feels good, and watching him try to troubleshoot the issue while keeping me in this goddamn position is actually entertaining, even if it is becoming close to unbearably uncomfortable. But I refuse to be the one to break.

His frustration is the first to give out. He grunts his annoyance, hooks his arms under my knees, palms my ass, and leans forward. “Grab my shoulders and hold on tight.”

I do exactly as he asks—it’s whatever he wants tonight—and I’m suddenly in motion. My shoulders hit the back of the couch as Randy’s feet land on the floor.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Changing things up,” he says, like our sex-robatics should be expected.

To a certain degree they are. Randy likes to try new positions, but this is a little over the top. I’m parallel to the seat of the couch rather than laid out on it now, with my shoulders resting where my head would be if I were sitting and, you know, watching TV or something. I let my head drop back so I’m looking at an upside-down version of myself in the mirror on the wall.

I have a very clear view of Randy’s beautifully built, straining muscles as he holds me perpendicular to his body. He’s angling me perfectly so that my boobs don’t impede his view of my shorts in the mirror—they really are horribly stretched out now—and the base of his cock as he pulls out a little and pushes back in.

Well, this explains everything.

“Just can’t help yourself, can you? Always wanting to watch what you’re doing to me.”

He shifts his gaze from his own reflection to mine. “You don’t seem to be minding the view.”

I grab my boob and bite my lip, still keeping my eyes on him. “I love the view.”