“Babygirl, we’re going to try something different tonight. Get off the bed and face away from me.”
I freely admit I prefer the comfort of knowing what’s coming, knowing what to expect. It’s a big reason why I prefer rules and tasks with guidance. I can’t second guess if I know what I’m supposed to do. He was asking for something different from me. I was nervous.
Standing, naked, in front of him, unable to see his face – I trembled. Anticipation. Curiosity. The slightest bit of fear. It all welled up inside.
From the first gentle stroke of his palm on my shoulder, my bones melted away.
“Don’t move.”
I’m a wiggler, a writher, someone who’s entire body reacts to desire and eroticism. Standing still would be difficult.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, as I waited for the gentle, soothing strokes molding my body to become fierce and rough.
It never happened.
He cupped my breasts, gently tweaking my nipples until they became taut and tight.
I moaned.
His hands stroked the roundness of my ass, lightly squeezing and spreading my flesh.
My knees trembled.
He wrapped his hands around my throat, moving them slowly down my collarbone and chest.
I whimpered.
“Touch your clit.”
One finger sank deep into my slit. I was soaked, dripping wet.
His hands kept up their slow, gentle assault on my body and senses. My clit swelled and tightened. I bent forward at the waist, unable to hold my body up a moment longer. I gripped the side of the bed, moaning at each circling swipe from my own touch.
“Please? Daddy? Please, pleeeeeease canIcum, canIcum, oh my God!”
“Yes, babygirl.”
His whispered acquiescence sent me over the edge. My body spasmed. My knees knocked. I screeched as my body twisted and turned.
He gripped my hips tight, keeping me bent over as pleasure wracked my body.
“Stand up, girl.”
Pressed against his chest, as his hands tortured my body and mind so tenderly and sweetly. I gasped, struggling to breathe as desire overwhelmed every sense.
“Touch your clit again.”
I whimpered even as my hand moved swiftly to do his bidding.
Still soaked. Wetter than before. And more sensitive.
Two, three circles and swipes later…
“OhGodDaddy! PleasecanIcum?!?!”
“Yesssss.”
I splintered and shattered while cradled in strong warm arms. My knees gave out. He held me up, forcing me to ride out the lightning bolts pinging through my body. My thighs trembled. My head swam. My body convulsed.
“You are my good girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.” The words were barely audible. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome, babygirl. Now you may go to bed.”
I sank into the bed, boneless and exhausted, senses still reeling from his gentle control over my body.
Welcome to Masturbation Monday! Would you believe that I’ve had permission to masturbate as often as I’d like – when I want – as long as I tell John Brownstone…and I forgot?! Oh, well, I’m going to have to make up for lost time. Until then, I hope you were just as turned on by this particular experience as I was. It was the perfect way to get ready for bed. I slept like a rock! Now, go forth and read the smutty, smutty goodness from other writers and bloggers. And if nothing else, you have got to check out this week’s prompt. It is so freaking hot.
I have to keep you on your toes.
And you do it so well. 😉
Never Tire Of Sexual Writing-PLEASE! Amazing
Me neither, Fred. Me. Neither. 😉
Wonderful, different is most definitely good and very hot!
Yeah, I’m a bigger fan of “different” than I used to be, lol. 🙂
This sounds like a really fun bedtime routine 😉 Grrr! LOL.
Right? It was definitely a good night. 😉
[…] When I bent over the bed, waiting for our evening routine to begin, I honestly thought he would spank my ass a few times, tickle my feet to torture me, and then tell me it was time for bed. That’s what we do. Well, most of the time. […]