Wonderboy was licking my cunt and fucking me with his fingers. He had already come in me and now it was my turn. He had put clothespins on my nipples again, because I asked and was slapping my thigh gently while he licked me. The orgasm seemed very distant, and every time it got closer, it was because Wonderboy spoke to me.
I like to hurt you.
I love to torture you.
You can’t come, you know. I won’t allow it.
I will have to punish you, if you do.
I’ll put clothespins all over your body.
This made me think about something I just read. How could he know? But obviously he didn’t know. His desires just followed the path they wanted to take. More clothespins. More places in me to pinch and hurt. More pain and more control. It made me gasp from delight.
I am more in tune with my masochism, when he pleasures me than I am at any other given moment. Through the discussions we keep having while he licks my cunt, he has come to know a whole new me. He has seen and felt without a doubt what describing hurting me or enjoying hurting me does to me. He has experienced first hand, how I get closer and closer to coming just by thinking about pain.
Why is he left out? Why is it not the same, when he actually hurts me? Why can’t I ask for the same things when he’s making love to me?
Afterwards he said his orgasm had been somewhat butched, and I consoled him a bit. He then went on to say that he’d felt empty somehow and then when I asked for the clothespins, when his part was over… He had been so envious. Hurt.
Why didn’t I ask for them before? He would’ve loved to fuck me, while I wore them. It would’ve been arousing to him as well.
The things is, I wanted them on earlier. I thought about asking for them. But I didn’t want to make him stop the fucking. He seemed to be so turned on. I was also afraid they’d hurt too much. I was lying on my stomach and he was fucking me fiercely from behind. I thought about my tits grinding against the bed with the clothespins. The thought was too terrifying.
I told this to Wonderboy and he exclaimed, I could’ve fucked you in another position! It would’ve been so hot!
Next time then, I said and felt a little disappointed myself. Why hadn’t I asked for the clothespins? Why hadn’t I asked for what I wanted, yet again? When I decided to not say anything, not ask for anything, I also decided that I wouldn’t come while we fucked. I decided that he couldn’t fulfill me, because it didn’t occur to him how it would be done. I decided to leave him out.
And why did I do this? Because I thought he didn’t need anything else. I thought he only wanted to fuck me from behind and be done with it. Because I didn’t think it was important enough to say out loud what I needed.
Please fuck me slower, more sensually.
Please handle myt butt somehow, but don’t slap it. Be rough with it.
Please hold onto my tummy and pull me against you while you fuck me.
Please, could you put the clothespins on me.
Please talk to me, while you fuck me and tell me how you’ll use me and hurt me and make me come.
Maybe next time I’ll actually say these things. Until then…