The Weekly Mindfuck: Reverse Cowgirl with a View

My initial exposure to reverse cowgirl was porn, of course. Shortly after I started sleeping with my first semi-consistent partner, I devoured the stuff. (Years later, I still do, of course—but I didn't know that then.) My friends, just as naive as me, would all giggle when I told them what I'd been watching. "But why?" they'd say. My response was simple: "To learn." I suppose, to an extent, that's still one of the reasons I love it so much. In the comfort of my bed, my duvet wrapped under my armpits, my head resting on my partner's chest and the laptop cradled in his lap, both of our hands would absently wander and stroke until I'd gasp at something unexpected on the screen.  

"Want to try that?" I'll say, already sitting up and moving the laptop just far enough away, still illuminating us with flickering blue light. I can hear the performers moaning, but the sound is soon drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears, the pounding of my partner's pulse.

It's how I first came across this specific kind of reverse cowgirl. I'd only ever seen—and tried—the kind that looks somewhat akin to the crab walk (only sexier, of course). The guy I was with loved my ass, and I knew he'd love to see it, grab it, feel it while we were fucking. Doggy style was our go-to, but this held the special promise of uninhibited observation. He didn't have to thrust; I didn't have to balance. He grabbed me by the fistfuls and I grabbed him by the angles, manipulating my movements so I rubbed just the right spots. 

"I've never actually tried this," he managed between moans.

I grinned wickedly, as I always do. "Me either, baby."