I am wanton, wet, and wild with him. I know I should wait for his signal, for his lead, but after so many weeks apart, I find that I can’t bear to keep my hands from his skin, my mouth from his mouth, and my needy pussy from any spot on his body that he allows.
His hands play lightly along my shoulders and arms, moving slowly down my breasts and stomach. Every so often I feel the sharp sting of his pinch, a reminder that he is not all gentle touch and sweet caresses. The more he touches me, the more I crave from him.
Daddy is no fool, he knows exactly where to touch and where to ignore. I can feel his smirk resonating through his entire body as I begin to push my cunt at him, silently begging for attention. Fingers cruelly twist already hard nipples. Hands wrap themselves around my throat and in my hair. No relief is afforded a weeping pussy.
And then he nonchalantly rests his arm across my mound. I grind myself against him, reminding us both that I am always a bitch in heat for him. We both know I won’t find relief this way, but I don’t stop. Sometimes I’m a wild woman, humping and grinding faster and faster. Other times, I’m slow and languid, reveling in the sensations flowing through my body like warm molasses.
I am not allowed to reach a climax this way. Not under my own power, not by simply using a part of him. After all, I’m not in control, but for a few minutes, I grind away.