*** [HERE’S PART 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jmew7g/she_tells_me_she_doesnt_like_to_make_decisions_in/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf) ***
I stand up, tucking my cock back into my pants, zipping up as I watch you finally catch your breath. The wake of your orgasm fades and you look up at me, your expression softening. You are kneeling there in a puddle of your own cum, panties still halfway pulled to the side, your skirt bunched and twisted around your waist. You look so shy, so small. Or maybe it’s embarrassment? Shame?
I smile down at you warmly, offering my hand to help you up. I’m proud of you, of how far you’ve let yourself come. You take my hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up and closing your eyes as I lean in to kiss you softly, my other hand sliding up your neck, resting on your cheek. You lift up on your tip-toes, briefly chasing my lips as I pull back. You open your eyes slowly to meet mine. “You’re doing great,” I whisper, moving my fingers to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. A self-conscious little smile crosses your lips, as you fall back on your heels, running a finger along the elastic of your panties, moving them back into place.
“Can I take these off?” you ask, laughing and breaking character for a moment. “They’re soaked. Like, really soaked.”
My hand leaves your cheek, one finger lightly running down your body, my eyes following, stopping at the top of your skirt. I turn over my hand, running the back of my fingers over your pussy, before looking down at them coated in your cum. “No,” I smile, making eye contact again. “They’re going to be a good reminder of all the things you’ve done tonight.”
Your expression falls as you shake your head, your laugh trailing off. I can tell you’re frustrated, maybe even a little annoyed at how far I’m taking this. I take a step back, raising my eyebrows. “Do you want to stop?” I ask, matching your frustrated tone.
Your eyes fall to the floor, and you shift your feet nervously. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. I reach out and lift your head until your eyes meet mine, staring at you, waiting to hear more. “Please don’t stop,” you say, barely audible. I nod, briefly stroking your cheek with my thumb as I pull my hand away, taking another step back.
“That’s good, baby,” I say, pointing towards the bed. “Lay down.”
You climb onto the foot of the bed, crawling across our fluffy comforter, arranging the pillows, piling one on top of another, a third one leaning against those two. You recline back, looking at me with soft eyes and a naughty smile. I smile back, pausing a moment to take in the sight, rubbing my cock as it throbs against the fabric of my pants, planning the next few minutes.
“Get up, please,” I say, your expression turning to confusion as I walk over to the side of the bed. “Get up,” I say firmly, pointing to the floor on the other side of the bed.
You stand up, still confused, your hands clasped in front of you again, subconsciously trying to cover yourself as you try to figure out what’s going on. “Thank you,” I say, yanking the comforter off the bed and throwing it on the floor, tossing all but one of the pillows on top of the pile. The bed is bare now, just a white fitted sheet and a single white pillow. I look at you as I walk back over to the foot over the bed, gesturing for you to lay down again.
You crawl back onto the bed, shaking your head in mock disbelief, almost scoffing. You fold the pillow in half and lay back on it, folding your arms across your chest, looking at me defiantly. I meet your eyes with a cold stare, walking over to the light-switch, turning the dial to dim the lights until the room is barely lit. “Is that better?” I ask, walking over to the other corner of the room. I watch your body relax immediately, no longer feeling completely exposed.
“Yes, thank you,” you say, trying to hide your relief.
I reach up and switch on the lamp in the corner of the room, rotating the shade, making it shine down on you like a spotlight. You tense up, first from the surprise, then from embarrassment. “You’re welcome,” I say with a smile, knowing full well you can’t see my face with the light shining into your eyes.
I hear you let you a deep breath. “Jesus,” you whisper, “who the fuck are you?” I can’t tell if you’re talking to me or to yourself.
I take a few steps, picking up the full-length mirror leaning against the wall, carrying it over and leaning it on the wall facing the foot of the bed. “We’re rearranging furniture now?” you ask, your joking tone barely hiding the fact that you’re upset at being put on such brazen display.
“I need you to see what I see,” I say dismissively, adjusting the angle of the mirror until it is pointing directly at you. I walk over to the side of the bed. “Besides,” I say, looking down at you, my eyes running up and down your body, “you should know exactly what you can do.” I lean down and kiss your forehead softly, whispering, “And you should be proud of what you are.”
I stand up again, your big eyes begging me to stop, at the same time badly needing me to keep going. “Are you ready?” I ask, grazing your cheek with the back of my finger. You nod, your expression unchanged. “Good,” I say, booping the tip of your nose playfully, before walking back to the foot of the bed, disappearing in the glare of the lamp.
Your reflection in the mirror catches your eye and you turn your head to look at yourself laying on the bed, legs slightly spread, underwear visibly wet. You notice your skirt, sloppily gathered around your waist, far from the clean little bunch of fabric you had imagined in your mind. It doesn’t look seductive. It doesn’t look cute. It looks dirty. It looks whore-ish. It looks desperate.
Your eyes travel across your smooth tummy, up to the flower-print bra that once matched your soaked panties. It’s still so clean and untouched.
“Why is your skirt around your waist like that?” I ask, my voice bringing you back into the moment. You look up, squinting in the light, trying to make eye contact but unable to see my face.
“Because you asked me to?” you say, sounding unsure of what exactly I’m asking you.
“No. Why is your skirt around your waist like that?” I repeat in exactly the same tone.
“Because you told me to,” you say, this time much more sure of your answer.
“No,” I say louder, putting emphasis on every word, feigning frustration. “Why. Is. Your. Skirt. Around. Your. Waist. Like. That?”
The silence lingers for a moment as your eyes fall back to your reflection in the mirror. “Because,” you say, hesitating as you take in the image in front of you. Your voice drops to a whisper, sounding as if you’re coming to a realization. “Because I’m a whore.”
I let your words hang in the air, not bothering to acknowledge them. It doesn’t matter if I do. I’ve always known. What matters now is that you know. I watch you make eye contact with yourself in the mirror as several moments pass, the only sound in the room is your shallow breathing. I wonder what you are thinking, lost in your reflection. Shame? Relief? Acceptance?
After almost a minute, I watch you take a deep breath, coming back down to earth, your lips curling into a smile, your eyes half closing. You uncross your arms slowly, still staring at yourself in the mirror. You bend your knees, bringing the bottoms of your feet together, spreading your legs open wide. Both hands slide down your belly, one hand pulling your panties to the side. The other slides between your legs, dragging the tip of your middle finger slowly up your slit, feeling your lips part around your finger as you tease yourself. Your eyes fall closed as you whisper to yourself. “That’s what I am.”
I stand as still as possible, rubbing my cock through my pants, not wanting to interrupt the scene unfolding in front of me, but desperately trying to resist the urge to jump on top of you, pin your wrists to the bed, and drive my cock inside you again and again. I hear myself let out an accidental moan as the thought crosses my mind. The sound reminds you you’re not alone, and you look over in my direction, not totally sure where to find me behind the glare of the lamp. “Are you having fun over there?” you ask with a smile, bringing your finger from your pussy up to your lips, dramatically licking it clean.
“I am,” I whisper, lost in your stare, rapidly realizing I’m losing control of this situation. I glance over at the mirror leaning against the wall. “Do you like what you see?” Your eyes fall back to your reflection as your finger falls back down to your pussy.
“I like what you make me see,” you say, sliding your middle finger deep inside yourself, holding it there, flicking up towards your g-spot in small motions.
“Show me,” I whisper, completely in a trance, watching your eyes close slowly as you throw back your head, arching your back as your push a second finger inside. You pull your fingers out slowly, pushing them firmly back inside as soon as your fingertips come into view. Again and again in a steady motion, the palm of your hand slapping against your clit as your fingers hit their deepest point. Your let out a small moan with every thrust, briefly pushing onto your clit as you curl your fingers toward the ceiling. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Open your eyes,” I say gently as your gaze drops to your reflection, your moans getting deeper, your hand never slowing.
I step out from behind the lamp, leaning against the wall next to the mirror, fully clothed with my arms crossed, staring down at you. Seeing me standing next to your reflection, your hand starts to move faster, your palm slapping loudly on your clit with every stroke, grunting as your fingers curl deeper and deeper. Your other hand lets go of your underwear, sliding up to just below your belly button, and I watch you push down firmly, hungrily moaning as you feel the fingers on your other hand pushing up inside you. You’re close, just waiting to be pushed over the edge.
“What do you see?” I ask, arms still crossed, refusing to touch my painfully-hard cock despite it throbbing with your every move.
Your breathing speeds up, your hips lift off the bed slightly, letting your fingers curl even further, your other hand pushing deeper into your belly to meet them. “I see a man standing over me,” you say in between breaths, “watching me fuck myself.”
I glance over at the mirror, then back at you. “What else do you see?”
You look at your reflection again, your legs spread, hips lifting off the bed with every thrust. You feel it building, every part of you tightens as you fight to keep your hands moving faster and faster. “I see a whore,” you cry, barely able to get the words out.
“A whore for who?” I say quickly.
“A whore for you, baby,” you reply loudly as the first wave hits you.
I take a step towards the bed, raising my voice as I point to the reflection in the mirror. “A whore for who?” I ask again.
You feel the peak hit you just as the words leave your lips. “A whore for anyone,” you cry, keeping your eyes locked on your reflection as your pussy clamps down on your fingers, your hips thrusting up into the air. “A whore for anyone who wants me, anyone, anyone,” you mutter loudly as the orgasm rushes through you. Your voice finally trails off as your hips fall back to the bed, eyes closed, your hand going limp, still buried inside you.
You finally open your eyes to see me standing over you, gently stroking your cheek as you come back to reality. “All that being said,” I whisper, “you’re still mine.”
You nod your head, a gentle smile across your face. “Only yours,” you say, stretching your arms above your head, legs out straight, letting out an exhausted moan.
“Good,” I say, standing up. “Because we’re not finished.”
(To be continued….maybe)
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jo7098/part_2_she_tells_me_she_doesnt_like_to_make
Oh please, there has to be more…. Please tell me there’s more….please….please….. (begging, pouty voice)…