This is what I’m talking about! Last night, and the night before that I might add, I was dry, because of the cycle, but I still wanted sex. He wanted sex. So he made a thing of it. It became part of our play.
Wow, you’re really tight.
It’s okay, I’ll just put it in a little.
I really want to fuck you, you know.
I can’t get it in, though I try. I’m just going to have to force it in, don’t I?
You see here, though, that I have no lines? I thought about that. My answer is almost always something only reactive to what he said. Is it? Really? I don’t know. You probably shouldn’t do that. I’m a poor actor, when it comes to acting the scene out. I still don’t see myself important that way.
But I do respond in other ways, very fiercely. His words echo in my body. I shiver, I pulse, I sigh, I rowr, I open up.
I don’t know. I want to hear the words. I need for him to speak to me and make the play true. Maybe it’s just my fantasy that really has no speaking role for me. And that’s okay, and it seems to be just what he wants too. A very uncertain little girl. It’s still negotiating. It might not sound like it, but I do assert what I want by how I respond. He can tell. It’s just not so evident, if I only write down the words.
And when he came… [Insert your preferred deity here], it was incredible. Just. Incredible. Playing with him not being able to actually come inside was what made us both hot. I mean really, I was so tight and dry it was a slow process and there wasn’t a lot of frantic movement. It was perfect. I wasn’t self-conscious about the dryness, like usually, not trying to force myself open up quicker or more. It just worked, dammit. It was beautiful.
After he came, he flipped me right under him, because counter to the popular belief I can still be submissive even when I’m on top, and started to lick me and kept on playing. This time I wasn’t supposed to or allowed to come.
But I did. And he’s promised a proper punishment for me.
I’m so happy.