I know some of you this will interest more than some. It starts with doctor talk but ends up in tease and denial. I promise.
So, Wonderboy has to go to the clinic to get his sperm tested. The thing is to do it he has to stay unejaculatory for three whole days. At first when I heard this I exclaimed, that he could do it while I was away. I’m gonna fly to good old Germany in a week or so. Wonderboy protested slightly, so I dropped it. But as the days went by, while cuddling, I’d remark on it tugging on his chest hair or playing with his lips. I want you to fuck me. Oooh, but I forgot. You can’t come. And then I’d let out a rawr and a laugh and grind myself against him.
Finally he asked, What’s so enticing about it? What makes you so crazy about it?
I don’t know, I had to admit. It just does.
Restricting his ability to come by any means has always been a really huge turn on for me. But before it’s always been only for play. He’s sometimes not been supposed to come, but he’s come anyway, and that’s been hot.
So, why is it so hot now, when I know that he has to control himself? It’s in fact not a play at all. He’s not allowed to come or the tests won’t show up right.
It’s incredibly hot. So masculine and forceful. He has to be able to stop himself from coming. It makes me feel so desirable. If he’d do it for me? Such a sacrifice would not go unrecogniced. I would kiss his cock through the fabric of his briefs, like I did yesterday when he was too tired to play. I would kiss the lines of the cock, breath on it, press my nose against it, follow it’s mound, press it in my mouth with the fabric and all. And when it would be good and hard, I’d say.
Ooooh, but you can’t come. Poor baby.