I’m on my bed, warm and drowsy from a hot bath and a glass of wine after a stressful day dealing with parental issues and work stuff. Only one more day of work before I’m officially on vacation, but it feels like forever getting to there.

K has his own key now (well it’s an app to open the garage so he can come in that way, but same difference) so he lets himself in and comes up. The dog comes up with him, bouncing on the bed in his excitement. They are good friends now.

After the dog is banished from the room we lay on the bed and chat awhile in a relaxed fashion, just catching up on each other’s day. Eventually he begins to trail his hand down my body, slowly, teasingly, finally slipping his fingers against the folds of skin between my legs, not yet pressing inside, just…touching. Stroking my labia almost absentmindedly.

My body is already on high alert, though. Truthfully it has been since he walked in the door. I have already felt myself growing slick, felt the faint throb of recognition of his presence that seems to be such a constant when he’s around.

I hear the catch of my breath, loud in the silent room, when he slides his fingers just the slightest bit further between my lips, playing with the wetness he finds there. My head is tucked into his shoulder, but I think I can feel a grin on his lips. He likes the way my body responds to him.

So do I.

I ache though, and arch toward him, press myself along the length of his long lovely body. My nipples graze his chest, not usually a “thing” for me – until tonight, apparently. Sensation zips between nipples and cunt. Hard, aching points. And his fingers plunge into me, parting my lips, spreading me open.

Things get hazy then. I feel his finger – that long, supple, finger deep inside of me, and then he has found the spot. And he is stroking, rubbing, I don’t know what he’s doing, but it feels so good. I am panting, legs spreading: needy greedy cunt.

The sensation stops. His finger is still inside me but…

But that intense exquisite feeling has ebbed away. (Damn it!)

I back down. I breathe. Okay, I get it. Not now.

But then he starts again. And I am leaning into him, leaning and opening and spreading and reaching…oh god it’s so good…

Until he stops.

Wait, what? No. No no no…. I want and I want and please and I am breathing into his skin and begging him silently…please please don’t stop.

I can’t make the words though. I can’t say what I want. Make me cum. Please please make me cum.

Of course he knows. Of course he is taking me there, over and over…and then stopping. Over and over. It is all so…deliberate. He pushes me, drives me, up and up and so damn close…

Only to drop me. Stopping everything.

My breathing is harsh. I’m panting and gasping and rocking against his hand and I think, finallyyes! Yes yes…! And fuck it if I’m not pleading out loud now, begging him. Don’t stop! Please, I want to cum…fuck yes, please, please…!

And it all stops again. I glare up at him. Speechless.

“Well, it wouldn’t be control if I just let you cum any time you want to, now would it?”

Such an asshole! But fuck if I don’t love it. Love him for putting me there. Even while my mind says “I hate you!”

But then…just when I believe that, fine, this is my life now… He thrusts his fingers deep into me again. Hard. Fast. I gasp as he finger fucks me, as my body responds before my brain can catch up. I don’t have time for the build up: I am there, screaming into his neck, cumming so hard my entire body shakes.

We lay there, me panting, him grinning. “Ready to go to dinner?” he says.

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