Posts Tagged ‘ejaculating’
Warning: This story contains some references to Daddy/girl, because that is what we usually call each other while playing. The story before the cut is an explanation and example of the three minute game, something the Body Electric School explores in their workshops, and does not contain the specific Daddy/girl words; the Daddy/girl play is behind the cut.
I returned home from LA, from four days with Rife, and I was ecstatic to see Kristen. She picked me up early, early at the airport on the red eye, and we fell back asleep at home for a few hours, made some lunch, talked about what we’d been doing.
In the afternoon, we returned to the bedroom.
I know when I travel it’s best to come back to her sweet and slow, and even more so when I’ve been off seeing my lover. I was turned on (she felt so good in my arms, under my hands, her feminine curves, her sweet soft skin) and had some ideas, but we needed a way to reconnect playfully, slowly, first.
“Want to play the three minute game?” I asked.
“Okay,” she said brightly, smiling like I’d offered to make her favorite meal for dinner. “But remind me of the rules?”
“Each of us gets a turn, and each turn is three minutes, carefully timed. There are two turns, so—four rounds. The first is, ‘this is what I would like to do to you for my pleasure.’ Then, ‘this is what I would like you to do to me for my pleasure.’”
“Got it.” We’ve played before, but only a few times, and the last time didn’t go so well—she’d asked me for some touch around my chest and we both got uncomfortable and had to stop, but neither of us handled it well. I hoped we wouldn’t do that again.
“You go first,” I said (being a top is useful sometimes).
“Alright … for my pleasure, I would like to sit on your lap, and for you to kiss my face and neck and suck on my nipples.”
“Mmm, I’d love to,” I said. “Take off your shirt.” Part of the point is to respond well—with eagerness, or with suggestions of something else related if you are uncomfortable with what they request.
I shifted up to the head of the bed so I could support my back against the wall, and Kristen curled up over my lap. I set the timer on my phone for three minutes.
At first, I barely made contact. I let her feel my breath and nose and the heat of my skin; I closed my eyes and remembered the contours of her jaw and cheek with the tiny invisible hairs on my face. Then I let my lips touch her, just brushing, gently, gently, as light of a touch as I could manage, as slow as I could tolerate. Feeling her weight on my thighs and the curves of her waist and back and spine in my hand made me want her, but I resisted.
I traced her jaw, cheek, throat with my mouth, kissing now, using the soft insides of my lips, keeping my mouth supple. She made that soft mewling moan that slays me and a shiver ran down my spine. I kept going, working that spot on her neck by her earlobe that she loves, then where her neck and shoulders meet, and down to her collarbone. I kissed along the curves of the tops of her breasts, making my way between the cleft of them, down to one nipple and then the other, sucking them into my mouth, teasing gently with my teeth and tongue, suckling, nibbling.
Just as I was getting into it, drawing her closer to me with my arms around her back, burying my face in her, just as she was starting to drop her head back and thrust her tits forward, the timer went off, and we both laughed.
I shifted my position a little and she sat more on the bed than on my lap. I kissed her lips. She said, “It’s your turn.”
“For my pleasure …” I swallowed. “I would like you to kiss my feet.” We’ve played with this a little. It is only recently that I have admitted how much I like it—to myself and others—enough to actually experiment with the sensation. It makes me nervous to ask for. But that is partly what this game is for, and it’s only three minutes. I can do just about anything for three minutes.
She nodded, looked at me a little coyly, chin down eyes up lips parted, and said, “And suck your toes?”
My breath caught. “Yes,” I think I managed to say. I think it was audible. So nervous. And it’s something that I wanted to feel, so much.
I set the timer again and she slid down the bed on her belly to take my right foot in her hands and deliver a sprinkling of kisses along the top of it. She ran her tongue along the instep, the most sensitive part, and sucked gently with her lips. She tongued the crease between my big toe and second toe before sliding the larger into her mouth.
I groaned. It is so vulnerable and makes me so nervous to give over, to feel her mouth in that way. The sensation is so close to tickling but is ecstatic, and so close to getting my cock sucked but is very different. She worked her mouth over all the crevices she could reach. She sucked and licked, moving her tongue up and down, holding my heel and ankle in her hands.
Then she switched to my other foot.
(It is so hard to write about this! And words like toes and foot seem so inherently unsexy, somehow—but I know the feeling absolutely turns me on. I don’t think I’ve written about it here before. I don’t know if I want to, except that I like to challenge myself to make myself vulnerable, to Kristen and to myself and in this writing project, and this feels very edgy.)
Those three minutes felt like an hour. I lost myself in the sensation, but I didn’t lose my body: moreso the opposite. I felt my whole self down to each toe, where so much stimulation was concentrated. I felt my cock quiver and my nipples harden and my throat go dry as I tried to swallow. I watched her mouth move and lips darken with blood and sensation and she smiled and giggled a little as she showed me what she could do. My eyes rolled back. My wrists went slack. I almost begged for her to stop, almost begged for more. I was overwhelmed and ecstatic and so turned on.
The timer went off and I breathed out, both a sigh of relief and disappointment that it was over. “For your pleasure, what would you like to do to me?” I asked.
She rose to her hands and knees and crawled forward toward me on the bed. “I would like to suck your cock.”
“Mmmm, gladly,” I said, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Give me just a minute to put it on.” I slid my jeans and briefs off, tossed my tee shirt into the laundry basket, pulled on my cock and harness from the small jersey bag I tend to keep it in, and returned back to the bed. She crawled over me. I barely had time to restart the timer before she had my cock in her mouth, tongue eager again, her lips soft and sucking me down. It’s a big cock, the Maverick, my favorite one, the one I use only with her.
She’s still warming up, but I want to push her. Read More
I had to change o-rings for this one. Thick and dense and contoured and completely stiff, unlike the squeezable Bandit that she’d been sucking off minutes before. I like to fuck her with the same cock she’s just blown: the reminder of it in her mouth, the tug of the harness in similar ways. Shoving my fingers down her throat so I can feel how she sucked it. Filling her up.
Except – I wasn’t. Wasn’t filling her. The cock that is perfect for bjs is not perfect for fucking, it doesn’t give that strain of her pussy against me, doesn’t make her gasp and open practically involuntarily.
I wanted something larger.
So I reached for Randy, new from one of my favorite sex toy stores and as yet untested. I was unsure I could fuck her with it. It is short, maybe too short; seems like cocks are either fat or long, but both of those together and you get into the novelty and/or gay boy ass toys sections. Toys for pussies seem to be either one or the other. The shorter they are, the harder it is for me to get a comfortable thrust. The other extra-thick cock I have – which is shorter and less thick than Randy – I barely even ever try to fuck with, it’s hard to get the angle right without just popping out of her every time I slide out.
But this girl … we know how to fuck. We have all the angles. I know how to get more space to thrust by holding the backs of her thighs, looping my arm around her shin and pushing her knees to her chest, by putting my elbows to the undersides of her knees.
Cock in my fist I pressed it against her, and it occurred to me for the first time that it might not fit. “You might have to get on top of me,” I warned, “Not sure if this is going to work.” But I felt her open and press against me. “Ohh that feels good, I know you can take it, open up for me, let me in.” She moaned and pressed her thighs open.
I slide inside with caution, feeling her swallow me and close up as I pressed all the way in. She brought her legs around my waist, arms around my shoulders, then up under the pillows, pushing the headboard away to press against me harder. I shouldn’t have been worried; we could fuck with this just fine.
Keeping one hand on the cock so I can feel it in and out, so I can know if it comes out, so I can feel her tight against me, and the other hand with my fingers in her mouth, or palm covering her mouth, “quiet girl, it’s early, don’t wake the neighbors,” or hand gripped on her upper arm or behind her head for leverage, she came two, four, I don’t know how many times. My fingers thrum her clit and she comes again, again.
She started squirming, pressing desperate against me with that hungry desire that means she wants more, wants it harder. Soon enough she started asking for it, too, her whine in my ear, getting rhythmic and repeditive, give it to me give it to me, yeah fuck me deep, fuck me deep, fuck me deep and I fumbled a little. “You sure? You okay? It’s kind of big, I don’t want to hurt you – ”
“No, it’s good, it’s so good, give me more, more baby more.”
Alright, fuck it. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding back, unsure of driving this new thing. But here she was begging, she’d already come half a dozen times at least, surely she can handle it.
She came again, harder this time, our eyes catching and breath slowing. Then she asked, “Can I get on top?”
Why not. Try out another angle, make sure it’s a thorough review. (Ah the things I do for my work.)
“You might need more lube … ” I reached for the bottle on my nightstand as she lowered onto my cock with a moan. Okay, maybe not.
“I’m … so … wet,” she managed, before starting to rock back and forth and losing her words.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. I lose myself when she’s on top, and I just love to look at her, watch her, feel her, run my hands along her body, let the pleasure between us rise & fall.
She often squirts like this. Something about the angle. I think we could both feel it building in her, and she pulled up and put her hand on her clit while still riding my cock.
“Want me to … ”
“Do it, baby.”
She rears back, hips bucking against me and pussy tightening so hard that she pushes the cock out, before she gasps, moans hard, squirts all over in a wet gush, soaking my harness and my hips and stomach. I can feel it drip down my sides onto the sheets, my nice new sheets. I knew they would get broken in sometime.
“You know, this is why we have a Throe,” I laughed. That blanket has saved my bed on many occasions, we kind of need one for her house too. Makes it much more fun to watch her and make her squirt, takes away that twinge of “oh no my sheets” that does tend to plague me.
I pull her close, kissing her, god I love it when she does that. So hot. “So, seal of approval?” I ask, referring to the cock.
“Oh god yes.”