I need to think of a better name for my Twirtation. I’m trying to think of a really good one, a really juicy one. One immediately springs to mind but I can’t use it. It would be far too obvious who he was.
Remember I said he wanted to play a game? Well, I didn’t exactly agree to the game but it turns out we’ve started playing it anyway. Boyfriend aside, I’m pretty sure we had what can only be described as WhatsApp-sex the other day. What the fuck am I doing?
It was a task you see – one of those daily dominant things he does, that game he wants to play. And today’s task – to write about the other task in great detail. So here we go…
Not so much a task as a treat, I was given instructions. I was to strip to just my pants in bed, close my eyes and use the tip of my fingers to follow the contours of my body. I was to pay attention to every bump, every goosebump, every scar, the texture of my skin… everywhere. But only over my pants. I had a time limit of one minute.
“Describe what you felt, every detail you remember.”
I remember very little in the throes of passion but sure, let me just go ahead and try for you. I closed my eyes again and thought about how it felt when I ran my own hands over my body. This isn’t a game I’ve ever played before. I’m not very good at the whole sex-chat stuff. My mind has all this kink inside but when I try to get it out of my mouth I just giggle. I’m hopeless at it.
I begin to explain…
“My collarbone, my neck – my fingers made me shiver.”
“When I trailed my fingers around the sides and curves of my breasts, my nipples got really hard and I had huge goosebumps.”
“My hip bones are really sensitive. That’s a new thing.”
This conversation continued. I went on to tell him how I’d almost made myself jump when my hands crawled across the front of my pants and down to the warmth in between my legs. How it felt as if I wasn’t ready for it, it was too sensitive to touch. I told him how I stroked the inside of my thighs lightly and slowly, almost getting close to my warmth but not quite. It felt warm, sensitive, more sensitive than usual. I was more sensitive than usual. It was nice to slow things down. It’s been a long time since someone asked me to concentrate on it. In fact, I don’t think anyone has ever asked me to do that before.
“Were you thinking of me touching you as your fingers followed your body?”
A loaded question I felt but one I chose to answer honestly. No, it was me touching myself. It was me touching myself for him, but I wasn’t imagining him touching me. Right answer apparently. He wanted to show me our “connection”. How my left nipple was more sensitive than my right because we were “tapped” into our connection or strings (something I mentioned before). How I’d made myself jump when I touched myself because we were “connected” and that would heighten my sensitivity.
It might sound like a whole load of mumbo-jumbo and I’m not so sure it isn’t just that, but there’s something to be said for slowing things down and doing as you’re told. There’s also something to be said for doing it with a total stranger… It felt good to run my hands all over my body for no one else except myself, to follow my hands as they showed me what felt good, what new places I could titilate and tease.
“Take your panties off. Use your middle finger only, lick it and massage your clit. Slowly. I don’t want you to cum quick. I want you to keep talking to me as you do.”
Multitasking on a brand new level, why is it when someone tells you not to cum, that’s all your body cries out to do? Within seconds of touching my clit I felt as if I could explode. “Harder,” he instructed and the closer I got to my orgasm. When he told me to make my soft strokes longer, just enough to let the tip of my finger slip inside, I nearly lost my mind. Then two fingers. Then three fingers. Then four. This is something I regularly do to myself – I regularly tease my body in bed. Not quite to this level or for this long of course, but not once have I had the kind of reaction I had that night. Not once has my entire body longed to cum. I ached for it. I considered just doing it and not telling him… But that would ruin the game and so far, this game had been a lot of fun. If this is what the dominant / submissive thing is all about, sign me up. Get inside my head, push my boundaries… Please.
“Start using two fingers. I want you to imagine me watching you as you do it.”
I knew what he was doing. He wants to hear me beg him to let me cum. I know he won’t let me cum until I record him that voice message – “Please, please let me cum.” I was adamant I wasn’t going to do it. It’s the second time he’s asked but I’m a non sex-talker. I’d only sound like a moron.
“Don’t cum yet angel, not yet.”
He kept telling me how he had his cock in hand, taking it slow, enjoying my torture too much to let himself go.
“I want to hear you asking me to cum. I want to cum to your voice begging. Or a photo of you as you just came. Imagine me edging with you, over you. You know the rules, now ask me.”
“How come you decide all the rules?”
“Because you are submitting to me.”
I kept bringing myself right to the edge, toying with the idea of letting myself slip over. I could. Just one more stroke and I’d be cumming. I could quite easily… He wouldn’t ever know.
But could I lie? What would be the point of lying? This is a game and I want to play it. Taking a deep breathe, I hit record – “Please, please let me cum. Please!”