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.”