He looked at me with an intensity I’d not seen for a while. Animalistic hunger in his eyes as he leant down to kiss me. He saw the change in me. I went straight into a softer, more submissive headspace and let him take total charge.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” His hand glided between my thighs; I was the wettest I’d ever been and I needed him to hurt me more.
I have a strange relationship to pain in that I’m scared of it but crave it. A bit like when I used to do the couch to 5K running program… I’d love the idea of going for a run, hate the thing itself but love the way I felt afterwards. Actually, scratch that, I never craved going for a run. I’m not that much of a masochist!
Anticipation doesn’t always make pleasure more intense… I’m far too impatient. I want it NOW. Take orgasm denial, for example… Get me revved up in the moment, tease me, edge me. Great. Decide I’ve got to wait until later? It doesn’t do anything for me.
On Friday night, we played and we played hard. TSH kept hitting the same damn spot, over and over.
He spooned round me, holding me tight against his chest until I woke up. I opened my eyes, his hard cock pressing insistently at the base of my spine, just nestling against my buttocks.
I stretched and he pounced, “I’m going to fuck you now.”
As he leant back over, I couldn’t resist smacking his arse. It was in reach and in my eyeline. He stiffened slightly and turned back to glare at me, one eyebrow slightly raised. I grinned back, giving him a wide-eyed look of innocence. We both knew it wouldn’t cut it, but it was fun anyway. Continue reading “Lazy Fucks”