I feel her curl up against my back, pressing her bare breasts into my skin. I know she needs her sleep, she hasn’t slept well in weeks. She scratches my skin lightly, those tenuous tiny circles that make me weak and make me hum. She slips her fingers up the back of my neck into my hair, making those circles there, too. I hear myself groan and wish I could ignore her wiles. Her lips touch my skin as she attempts another seduction tonight. I tell myself to order her to sleep. I tell myself to turn to her and gently tell her I can’t do this every night. I tell myself to do anything but lie there, dismissing her. But I do nothing.
She starts to relent, I know she’s feeling rejected. But I still do nothing, I just close my eyes and allow the night to take over. I don’t understand why she seems to need something every single night.
I wake to her hands, still flowing over my skin, but more insistently. She’s worked up, writhing and kissing the back of my neck. I glance at the clock, it’s 1:32 am. I wonder if she’s slept at all, but her fingers and lips and breasts on my back feel so good. Her wanting me. Her pleasuring me. When I turn toward her, those nails begin their journey over my chest and stomach. Her breath on my skin feels heavenly, and I realize she’s achieving her goal. I bend my lips to her, slipping my hand in her hair and dragging her into a deep hard kiss.
She moans into my mouth and my dick responds with a vigor that is unusual at this time of night. I push her hand down to feel, and her reaction is perfect. She wants it, pulling it free and worshiping it with her fingers and grip. She wants to use her lips and tongue, but I’m not done kissing her, so I hold her firmly. She whimpers against my lips and I want to hear it again, so I pinch and twist one of her nipples. God, she’s so sexy when she’s worked up like this, making these noises. I call her a slut and she practically cums just from my words.
I decide to use her, the way she says she wants to be used. I push her hands away and stroke myself, she watches and practically comes apart, again. “You want it, don’t you. But you like watching me touch it.” She moans and wriggles next to me, playing with her nipples and licking her lips.
“Fuck me with your tits, bitch,” I sound ridiculous, but she loves it. She loves every second of it, and slides down on top of me, jacking me off between her heavy breasts. Watching her, feeling her, knowing she’s not going to get any release from this, I think maybe I do like this. I do enjoy having the power. “I’m gonna cum in your face, slut.” I still sound like an ass, but it’s getting easier. And I love turning her on, getting her off, giving her whatever she wants.
As I get close, she’s moaning and whimpering, I love that fucking sound and blow my load. It’s weak, she just sucked me off the night before, but two nights in a row! Maybe we’re getting somewhere. She thanks me. That feels weird, but she’s smiling. She cleans me. She enjoys this. She likes me like this. She wants me like this.
Why should I deny her the pleasure of pleasuring me? If it keeps her here, keeps her interested… I should act however she needs me to act.
I should be however she needs me to be. It’ll only get easier, right?
The kisses have. Those silly full blown kisses she wanted so badly each morning, now I even look forward to it. The way she looks at me after, and hangs onto me, and those noises…
The spanking has. That night I spanked her on the couch and finger fucked her until she was a quivering mess. That was awesome.
The humiliation has. The name calling and telling her what to do has gotten easier every time. I think I’m starting to like the dirty talk. It’s hot.
I don’t mind all the stuff we’re doing, but what if she keeps wanting more? What if I can’t be what she wants? What she needs?
If she needs me to tie her up… if she needs me to beat her until she cries… if she needs me to pleasure her for hours… and then clean her up after?
I’m not that guy. I don’t know if I can be that guy.
Maybe I just need to set the ground rules. She wants rules. She wants structure. She wants defined roles….
I have no idea what really goes on in my husband’s head. This is, of course, a guess. You tell me, Sir. Am I close?