Am I teasing him or is he teasing me?
“May I touch myself, Sir?”
Having to ask permission to masturbate is new (it used to be only for an orgasm.) l love it/hate it: it embarrasses me to have to announce when I am going to masturbate, and that embarrassment in turn arouses me further.
I send him the picture, showing him how wet I am. “Taste yourself,” he says.
I do, savoring my musky sweetness and moaning into the empty room. “May I also cum for you?” I ask.
This elicits a different response. “You will cum for me later, when I am at your house.”
My pussy clenches, and I work one and then two fingers inside, loving the feel of my tight, slick walls, the pliant flesh, the little pulses of excitement.
He hasn’t said to do so, but I bring myself to the edge and back, once, twice, again, imagining that he has demanded this of me, that I tease myself for him, even as he teases me. I even get out the new toy and let it finger-flick me a little, tho I am careful not to get too close to the edge. I tumbled over once without permission; I don’t want to let that happen again.
I send him a photo of my juices coating that as well. And I go about my day, waiting, anticipating.
Later, dinner preparations are under way. I have not forgotten his promise that I will cum for him, but it’s lost in the general hubbub of the evening.
I head upstairs to retrieve something.
He follows close on my heels. At the upstairs landing he grabs me by the shoulder, spins me around to face him, pulls me close, his mouth by my ear.
“You’re going to come for me, my Jade,” he says.
“Now?” I say, thinking of the guests downstairs.
He works his fingers inside my underwear and into the folds of my labia, and then into my cunt. I struggle, but silently, weakly, not wanting to alert those downstairs.
And then I am not struggling, I am opening myself to him, helplessly, greedily, as he knew I would, his slutty slut, letting him finger-fuck me there in the hallway where anyone could see or hear.
“Please,” I whisper, tho if it is please stop or please go on I am not sure. He doesn’t give me the option.
“Cum for me, Jade,” he says. And I do. Of course I do. Clenching, gasping, squeezing, trying not to make too much noise. He clasps we tightly to him as my knees go weak. I feel his chuckle against my hair.
“Good girl,” he says.