Another sample. I wrote this I think yesterday.
He can't make me cum.
He gorgeous. I can spend hours staring at him. I know because I've done it watching him sleep. (Overshare? Creepy? Ok maybe. But I don't care). When he's awake I dare not let him catch me. I lov.. oh! Sorry. I mean I really like him and when he turns his head in profile I just lo.. I mean well the way his nose juts out like it does is quite special. He's not a pretty boy. But he's lovely just the same.
He's not really my type to be truthful. He's ever so slightly overweight. He's a little shorter than I like 'em usually. When I wear the heels he loves so much we are very nearly eye to eye. He cannot dance a single step. He laughs at his own jokes and finds them hysterical even! He talks and tells me stories about electronics and his hobbies and other absolutely dull shit! When I'd rather he just hold me tight. But he also knows what to say to me to make me melt. And he's paying close attention. He knows what I like to drink already. He knows some of my other tastes too. He's so good with his hands. He seems to know how hard to squeeze my ass to make it hurt just the right amount but not quite hard enough to leave a mark. Well not much of a mark anyway. I embarrass myself when my excitement literally drools down my thighs.
But he can't make me cum!
He tries. Boy oh boy does he try! But his fingers are all in the wrong places for me and his timing is all wrong for me too. When I let him think he has talked me into letting his hand up my dress. He rubs my clit in circles, when it should be up and down and often not at all. Merely nearby is so so much better.
When he fucks me his motion is too hurried. He tries too hard to be there for me. He's nervous still. Sweet sweet man. I need to calm him down and help him relax. To help him realize that the trip is the destination. To prove to him that he has already won me and that he does not need to screw me with such rabid enthusiasm and bravado. Well not all the time at least.
We wash dishes together. He offers to help even! Well we start to wash the dishes but sometimes we get distracted. He asks. He literally asks to make love to me. Such a formal man! That I tell you is quite the novelty. One day such formality will wear off I hope and then I'll find myself bent over unceremoniously at his whim. But for the time being the novelty is refreshing and I of course agree and we rush off to the nearest bed or couch or counter top or more unconventional locales. More often than not we are barely undressed. Just enough to get the job done.
But he can't make me cum.
I can feel it nearing. I can hear him grunting and straining himself to make it last trying desperately to have me join him. He's generous to a fault with me. But there are limits to his generosity too! Sometimes it is too frustrating for him and he slaps at my ass or my tits or whatever is convenient. Sometimes even my face. Or best of all he bites me. On my shoulder, my neck my nipples. Sometimes even down there. Sometimes quite hard I might add. Almost never enough to draw blood though. Damn!
But he can't make me cum.
But! Things are changing. The last time he went down on me he watched the fingers of my hand and I joined him at the same time. And he learned! He copied the motion of my fingers and now he gets me under his control with just the slightest pressure of the tip of his finger. He tries new things. Then he observes and makes adjustments. Adjustments for the better.
He sure is a fast learner all right. He hears it when my moans change in pitch. He notices little things. He notices it when and why I bite my lip. He pays attention to what and more importantly when I whisper phrases to his ear I know he prefers. He notices it when my neck and chest flush with blood. He is paying attention noticing subtle and not so subtle signs of my arousal. He's clever like that. He's the kind of clever that is dangerous. The kind of clever that borders on cunning.
One day he'll make me cum just penetrating me. He'll make me cum because he'll get me so wet and he'll angle himself and me too - just so. Angle us so that I'll feel every ridge and bump along the way of his initial plunge. He may take me slowly that first drive or he may make it within me in a blink. I'll never know what mood he's in. He'll be clever enough to never tip his hand. He'll know the value of keeping a secret from me.
But (for the moment at least) he can't make me cum.
He wants me to cum so badly for me of course but also for himself. For his over sized - ego. So he can strut just a bit. And also for more deliciously sinister reasons. That way when he can make my arousal equal or exceed his need, then he'll enjoy that leverage.
But he will one day. And that day is fast approaching. And then there will be no stopping it. On that day and forever more he'll have an advantage over me that will be overwhelming. An advantage that he'll be ruthless enough to exploit. And you might think that I cannot wait for that day to arrive. Like a child wishing for Christmas to hurry up and get here already. But you'd be so very wrong.
No. I indeed CAN wait for that day to arrive. It's not because I fear him having that advantage, that power over me. On the contrary. I welcome that day. But still I'm in no hurry at all. I am not a Child anymore. And I know the exquisite value of expectation. I know that the journey is the adventure.
I don't mind it one bit that he can't make me cum.