Sometimes I do wonder if he can read my desires right off my face. It’s fairly common for me to ask permission to touch myself during sex, but vanishingly rarely does he deny me. I’ve been bemoaning to myself the terrible difficulty of loving to be teased, used, and left hanging…when everyone just wants to make you come, over and over, as they watch. It’s a hard life.
This night, when I asked, he said, “No.” I shuddered through the sudden destruction of the orgasm that had been building as he fucked me, feeling almost cold with the absence of arousal. The back dropped out of my mind as much as the bottom dropped out of my stomach, all the desire I’d been feeling to come transmuted into a floaty submission. “Thank you,” I breathed, a stupid smile melting across my face.
“In fact,” he continued, pulling out of me and sitting down on the bed, “if you want me to fuck your pussy again, come over here and suck me off until you come.”
I love sucking the taste of myself off a cock, but so soon after the whiplash of denial, it was going to take me some time. I alternated between indulging myself playing my tongue around the head of his cock and diligently deep-throating, working toward my own orgasm. My head got blissfully empty, as always when my airway is full of cock, but my body didn’t respond, even when I pushed myself to the point of gagging. I pulled off to swallow, and he stroked my hair gently, sending warmth through me. The next time, as he guided my head back down, it clicked, and I came as I gagged, legs spasming across the bed.
“Good girl,” he said, pulling me up off his cock with a few last licks. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
Five seconds ago I wanted nothing more than to keep on sucking his cock, but now I whimpered, “Yes, please,” and allowed myself to be dragged up and off the infernally squeaky bed. He placed my hands on the wall, spread my legs, and dragged my hips up, bending my back into the long curve he likes to see.
He fucked me from behind like that, biting my lips to keep quiet, fighting my body’s tendency to curl forward when I come, struggling to stay high enough on my toes to compensate for the nine-inch difference in our heights. It was amazing, and all too soon over, as he pulled out to sit on the edge of the bed.
Gesturing to the floor at his feet, he told me, “Come over here and suck me until I come. You can come when I do.”
I had hoped for more fucking, really, but I dropped to my knees, so hasty to get my mouth on him that I didn’t notice the discarded clothes bunched up under my dripping cunt. It took a few minutes for the thought to penetrate that I should move them, and longer before I could bring myself to break off the blowjob to shift and pull it from under me.
I looked up at his face to see him smiling. “You’re doing so well, little girl.” Such a gentle hand at the nape of my neck, drawing my mouth back to his cock. “Tell me what you want — ah-ah, tell me around my cock.”
I closed my eyes, still embarrassed to talk dirty even knowing he wouldn’t be able to understand much. Giving up technique in favor of not biting, I garbled, “I want you to come, please, I want to feel your cock throb and feel your come thick and salty, please, I want you to come so I can…”
I don’t know how long it was before he pulled me up, sex-drunk and wobbly-kneed, and tossed me sideways across the bed. He fucked me fast this time, enough to have me panting and fighting off orgasm too soon. Finally, he gripped my hips tightly and drove in hard, coming with a grunt. I managed not to squeeze him out of me in my own overpowering orgasm.
“Thank you,” I said again, in the afterglow, basking in how lucky I am to have lovers who will be so mean to me.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/876myc/its_fun_when_hes_mean