לפני 13 שנים. 21 באוקטובר 2011 בשעה 6:27
Continuing the series of re-posting vintage pieces that I wrote in the past, originally published here or elsewhere. The following is a classic piece, written about 3 years ago.
"Give me one," he says to me. I am lying spread across the bed, arms and legs secured akimbo, a warm muffler as a blindfold across my eyes.
He is half-sitting and half-lying on and over me, stroking my skin, pinching me and flicking me, mini-slapping me with various pervertible slapping devices (beer mat, bookmark, bouncy rubber cat toy) to the sound of me yelping in pain and then sighing with ecstasy alternately.
Every so often he leans over me, his face so close to mine i can sense the warmth of him. I lift my head, hoping to catch his lips with mine in a warm and passionate kiss -- and every so often he indulges me. But not always. This is, after all, his game. He makes the rules.
And how I love how he does so.
He pinches my clit, until I scream in ecstatic agony -- and give him my orgasm, right into his palm.
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"Give me one," he demands from me. I'm free-standing, the requirement is that i stand upright and allow him to toy with me as he pleases.
But of course. Could it ever be any other way? 8-)
There are the basic assumptive roles into which we naturally and easily slide -- catalyzed by our opening ceremony, which sets the scene very effectively for who and what we are when we are together. This is a role-play of sorts, but one that goes beyond any role-play of teacher and naughty schoolgirl, or of adult male returning to her home the young, naive and inexperienced babysitter.
His hand contracts, and his fingers slide further inside me. I struggle to remain upright, eventually grasping onto the bookcase frame nearby as the alternative is to allow my knees to buckle. I look at him, my eyes pleading for clemency, and his acquiescent nod acknowledges the reality of the situation, and permits my frame-graspage.
I lose control, and come, screaming my ecstasy, and gushing what feels like gallons of come down my leg and onto the rug. And collapse into his warm embrace.
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I love how he demands that I *give* him my orgasm. I give him my submission, and I give him my love -- and I do so with all my heart, love, trust, warmth and being. But to give him my orgasm? Huh? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? That he gives me one?
Orgasms are usually perceived as something that we take from our partners. Furthermore, there is no requirement for love or even any feeling that transcends beyond base animal attraction and lust in order to achieve that particular brand of ecstasy.
And yet, here he is, and he turns it on his head for me. "Give me your orgasm." He sees it as a gift to him, and I find this fascinating, unusual and absolutely amazing.
To him, the fact that i experience the overwhelming sweep of bliss that streams through me like a light-sabre, then shudder as if undergoing (a very delightful form of) electro-therapy and then (eventually) collapse against him, limp and sated, breathless and panting, is all evidence that I have given him a gift? So much the better.
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Later, he presents me with a healthy and highly inviting erection -- a result of some dedicated and willing attention from my mouth and tongue -- and demands that I clamber astride it. He didn't have to demand. I'd have done it anyway. However, he is in control, therefore the instruction must come from him.
It's how we like doing That Thing It Is That We Do.
Agreeably, I situate myself above him and slide him into me. He grasps my arms, dictating my every move, moving me up and down faster and faster, hitting my G-spot as he himself drifts off before my eyes onto a cloud of ecstatic joy. He looks into my eyes, and whispers to me.
"I love how your cunt feels around me."
I nod, I smile my special smile at him, my eyes never leaving his.
"I'm going to take mine now."
"I give it to you with all my heart, my mind, my soul and my cunt."
"I love you, my kitten."
"I love you, Don Gato."
He comes, his all-but-silent "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...!" echoing around the room, belying its near-silence.
I love being with him, I love fucking him, I love him fucking me, I love how he tells me how he loves my cunt and how it feels to be inside it, I love how he touches me when i sit at his feet, I love the way his skin feels on mine...
I will always give him whatever he wishes. Orgasms and otherwise.
