I was curled up under the blanket on M's couch last night watching TV when he slid up along my body with his face an inch away from mine. He dipped down to kiss me softly and said, " You know, I still want to fuck every time I see you. From the moment I'm with you, I can't wait to get you in bed."
When we got into bed M pulled me under him again, and seduced me with whispers in my ear. It's become the surest way for him to not only get me wet, but to make me subdued. It's so difficult to remember what his exact words are, he coaxes, teases, and flatters. He barely touched me, just his warm breathe, the briefest of kisses on my neck and earlobe, a few flickering licks across my skin.
I wriggle and squirm under his body pressed down onto me, and my head swims from the attentive murmurs. I blushed and couldn't meet his eyes. I was crawling out of my skin at the same time I was curling deep into myself. I gasped at his more explicit whispers, and groaned when his words caused my clit to twitch with anticipation.
He told me to reach inside my panties to test if I was wet, and my fingertips brushed against my humming clit and between the folds of my pussy. My fingers slip easily across the slick flesh, and M tells me to bring my hand up to his lips. My lubed fingers glide across his mouth and his tongue peeks out to lick at them.
M asked me if I missed being owned, and I told him I did. I miss the rules, and belonging to someone. That's not to say I'm unhappy with the level of play we have, or that I will push for M to become my 24/7 Dominant. I'm willing to wait and see what amount of play we're comfortable with, I'm happy with what we do now.
He told me to remove my bra and panties, and he pulled off his underwear. I sat up to kiss his face, and the moonlight thru the window illuminated our bodies. He looked down on me as I leaned back on my palms. Cupping my breast in his left hand, and gripping his stiff cock in right, he pressed me down onto my back and entered me smoothly. My breathe caught as he sunk into me deeply, and my cunt shuddered around him involuntarily.
And he kisses me. And he fucks me. Twice. And we talk after as we lay there; his head on my shoulder. We talk about how our sex has never been bad, it's never even been average. I tell him that the odds, just due to sheer volume, should have worked out to us having had a blip here and there. But no. He says that even if it did ever happen, it would be an anomaly, and would no doubt go back to being good. And we laughed at the implausibility of it.
He says we're always pushing our limits, that it makes our sex interesting for him. Then I think he became concerned that maybe my limits weren't really being pushed. He asked me if he did indeed push my limits, and I said yes. He wanted an example, so I told him that when he beat me with the belt that my tolerance is so low that it had really hurt. But I had endured it, and it had added to the experience of following his instructions. The consequences, and his willingness to enforce them, excited me.
Before we drifted off to sleep we noticed that the kitten had been curled up on the corner of the bed all throughout our fucking. M often jokes that the cats think we're "fighting" when we fuck. I said the kitten must have been thinking, disgustedly, "Gawd, they're fighting again!" M cracked that he always wins. When I said that since he thinks I look hot when I cum that even when I win, he wins. His reply was, "Get out of my head."
I gathered his face up in my hands and covered it with kisses, even kissing Stanley, the freckle on M's left eyelid. And I sunk into the pillows, nestled against M's body, sharing our warmth under the covers. And I thought how good this is, how amazing this feels. And I fell asleep smiling.