Teasing My Man

Tonight was the night I was going to give my man a treat. He had a high-stress job, and he worked hard every day. Every night that he came home, which would usually be very late, he would immediately reach for a beer in the fridge, sit down on the couch in front of the TV, and watch whatever was on until he finished his beer and drifted off. I would sit down next to him and stroke his hair. He loved that. He loved the comfort that I could give him every night when he came home exhausted. He loved how I could recharge his batteries so he could face another day, and provide such a wonderful lifestyle for us. I wanted to make him happy in any way I could, and I did.

Tonight, though, was going to be extra special. He told me he was going to be home at 8 o'clock sharp. I knew I could count on that. I didn't have the kind of man who said he would be home one time, only to come home hours later with lame apologies about having some other work to do, or some social event, and that he forgot to call, or that he tried to call but he couldn't reach me. Not my man. When he said he was coming home at 8, that's when he would be home.

So, when it was 8 p.m., I was waiting in our bedroom, wearing a tight-fitting little black dress, with spaghetti straps at the top, and high-heel black shoes. He told me he loved me in that outfit, and every time he saw me in it, his pants bulged just a little to prove it.

I heard the key turn in the lock, heard him step inside, heard him go to the refrigerator, and then walk to the sofa in our living room. I waited for him to turn on the TV. That's when I made my move.

I walked from the bedroom, down the hallway, and into our living room, crossing my legs over each time, slinking along like a cat in heat. He noticed me the moment I entered the room, and he started to smile, because he knew he was in for a treat. He turned off the TV as I strutted in front of him, his eyes glued to me. It was exhilarating to watch him drink in and admire my scantily-clad body. I sat down on the sturdy mahogany coffee table right in front of him, and moved his beer to the side.

"You won't need this to relax," I said.

I crossed my legs in front of him, and looked at his magnificent, handsome face. The face of a dominant man. I was getting wet just looking at him. He had already taken his suit jacket off, leaving only a thin dress shirt and slacks. I could see his strong muscles through the thin cotton of his shirt.

His gaze fell to my feet first, and my black high-heel shoes. Then he slowly looked up towards my calves, my thighs, my hips, my chest, and finally my face. His breathing was getting deeper and deeper. He inhaled deeply through his nose to pick up my scent.

"Hey baby," he said, in a deep bass baritone. "What's the occasion?"

"You," I answered.

I bit my lip in anticipation of the pleasure we were both to receive. I uncrossed my legs, and then rubbed them against each other. I could see the bulge in his pants growing larger, and stronger.

"Me?" he asked.

"You," I said. "You treat me so right. Now I want to treat you right."

He was speechless at that. He leaned back and relaxed, not knowing what I had in store for him.

I smiled wide, and bit down on my finger teasingly, and then I moaned. I was putting on a show for him, and he was loving every second of it. I leaned forward and ran my hands through his hair. He ran his hands through mine. I gently pulled his hands away.

"Nuh uh," I teased. "No touching." I was going to torture him, tease him. We had done it so many times, so quickly. Tonight I wanted to make him wait, watch his desire rise and rise, so that his final release would be that much more powerful.

"That's not fair," he protested. "You can touch me, but I can't touch you."

I put my finger to his lips. "Shhh," I whispered. "I'll decide what's fair."

He sat back again, and let me take control. Most times, he would take control in the bedroom. But tonight, it was my turn. I was going to command him with a little black dress and a smile.

I ran my fingers through my silken hair, which I freshly washed with a vanilla scent, just for tonight. I lifted my hair up and let it fall to my shoulders. He watched my hair bounce, hypnotized by its power. I moaned again for him, and just by moaning, and watching his reactions, I was getting excited myself. I brought my hands down to my thighs. I desperately wanted his hands on my thighs. I wanted his hands all over me. I wanted his naked muscles against my flesh. But I knew what would happen then. The moment he touched me, I would be helpless. And I needed to stay in control for the fun I was going to have, watching him squirm in torture as I teased him.

I stood up. Now, with me standing and him sitting, his handsome face was right in front of my pussy. He moved his head forward to try to kiss my wet pussy over my panties. He started to hike up my dress. I wanted it badly. My pussy was aching for him. But not yet. Now wasn't the right time. I pushed his head back, and he let the back of his head fall into the couch. He looked up at me with childlike delight. I kept rubbing my thighs and moaning. He was thrilled by this unexpected tease I was performing for him.

I pulled down my dress. "No touching," I repeated. "Don't make me say it a third time," I teased.

"Yes ma'am," he said, with a smile that lit up his eyes. He was playing along now. This was going to be fun.

"You make me so wet," I moaned. "Mmmmm." I bit my finger again, gently.

I looked down to see how turned on he was. His pole was lifted full height, practically breaking his pants in two. Those pants would be off soon enough, before they broke under the strain. But I was going to make him stretch those pants a little more first.

I slipped off the spaghetti straps from my shoulders, letting my dress fall to my ankles. All I had on were my panties and my high-heel black shoes. I wasn't wearing a bra for this special occasion. He gazed at me in my naked splendor, and could not believe his eyes. He was transfixed, speechless, and dumb. His adjusted his hips up, down, to the side. He kept trying to find a comfortable position to sit still, but there was no adjustment that would fix his condition. He was agitated at the sight of me. I was impressed by his self-control. In his eyes was a fire so strong I was surprised he didn't leap from the couch and drag me by my hair to the bedroom, like a caveman. Not that I would have minded if he did that. But he was still in control of himself, just barely.

"You're so good to me," I whispered, as I came close to his ear. "I want to be good to you." I unbuttoned each of the buttons on his shirt, slowly, one by one. I slid the shirt off him. He reached his hands up to grab my breasts. I put his hands back against the couch.

"Naughty, naughty," I said. "You keep your hands to yourself, you bad boy." I took my hands and placed them on his broad shoulders. Then I brought my hands down over his firm, solid chest. Brought my fingers over the ridges of his well-defined six-pack abs. Then, I looked down at the enormous bulge in his pants. It was pulsating. I could practically hear it begging me, "Let me out! Let me out!"

"Okay," I thought. "I'll let you out." I took pity on his poor cock, and on his poor pants that endured a strain no pants were designed to endure. I unhooked my man's belt, unbuttoned the top button, and unzipped the fly. His large cock leaped out at me, piercing through the hole in his boxers.

"Oh," I intoned sympathetically. "Did it miss me?"

"Yes," he said. "It missed you. So much. It wants to say hi."

"Hi," I said to the solid, stiff rod. "I missed you too." I gave it a kiss on the tip, and the cock twitched with joy. My pussy tingled in response.

I got on my knees, placing myself between my man's legs. I grabbed the top of his slacks and boxers, and I started to pull down. He thrust his hips high into the air, to make sure I had no trouble getting his pants off. He was eager for the next phase of pleasure. He smiled broad, the way a man smiles when he thinks he is about to receive oral pleasure. I wanted to give it to him, but I was still going to make him wait. No need to rush into things. And I got a thrill up my leg knowing how much torture he was in, and how great his pleasure would be later.

I placed my hands on his thighs, made a move with my head to go down, and then, I kept my head going down, to the floor, where I could see under the couch.

"Um," he said. "You went too far down. Come back up."

I reached under the couch, and pulled out the scented, strawberry-flavored edible body oil I liked to use on him. I poured some into my hand, put the bottle down, rubbed my hands together, and moaned.

"You planted that there," he accused me. "You sneak."

I smiled with a devilish grin. "Guilty as charged," I admitted. I flashed back to our third date. That was the date when I made him mine. I made sure not to put out on our first two dates. He kept telling me I was beautiful. It was clear that he wanted to see more of me, and see all of me. It took all of my willpower not to submit to him those first two times. But I stayed strong, and only let him kiss me, because I wanted to be sure that he was interested enough to put the time in. I didn't want to be tossed aside.

But on our third date, I wanted to please him, and please myself. After he walked me home, and kissed me, he asked, as usual, "Can I come in?" I answered, "Only if I can give you a handjob." That took him back for a second, since I had been so pure on the first two dates. But I wanted to say something bold, and let him know that, even though I was going to make him wait, I still had an animal inside waiting to come out. "Deal," he said. And he came inside.

And now, I took my time, repeating my performance on that third date. I placed my oiled-up hands around his strong shaft, and stroked up and down.

He looked at me with worshipful eyes. "I love it when you stroke my cock," he said. "You make me so happy."

I watched his cock get even harder, watched the blood pulse through the veins, slowly stroking, delaying the moment when I was going to put it inside me so that we could both achieve ecstasy. I blew on it, making my man tingle.

"Put it in," he begged. "In your mouth."

"Not yet," I said. Was I a bad person that I was enjoying torturing him so much? I would think about that later. Right now, I was just thrilled at the pleasure I was delivering him, in such slow, delayed bits, bit by bit. Like Chinese water torture. This was Chinese handjob torture.

"Mmmm," I moaned, putting my lips right up next to his shaft.

"Please," he said. "Please." He was babbling now. Clearly his brain had left him. How long could I do this before he pinned me to the floor and fucked me for ten hours straight? Well, I was going to find out.

"Wow," I said. "You're so hard. And I'm so wet. I love it when you're inside me." I continued stroking and stroking his cock.

A man has his limits, and my man is no exception. With a move too fast for me to avoid, he lurched forward, and latched his large hands onto my tits, and started rubbing them, holding them tight, like he would never let go.

"Your tits are so soft. So warm," he said.

He kept rubbing, his large hands circling round and round, and the possessiveness in his eyes was frightening and exciting. His eyes were saying one thing, and one thing only: "Mine! All mine!"

If I stayed there any longer, he was going to pin me to the rug and thrust inside me. I wasn't ready for that yet. So I slowly eased myself away from him, and stood up. He stood up with me.

"Sit down honey," I said. "I have more to show you." I could see the vein throbbing in his neck. He looked down at my pussy, and he could see, even though I was still wearing panties, that my juices were leaking down my thigh. He knew he could take me right then and I would be helpless to resist. But he was being a good boy tonight. He was going to play my game some more. As long as he could handle it. He sat back down.

I walked to the side of the coffee table, and slowly took off my panties for him. He inhaled deeply, taking in the full power of my scent, which set his heart racing. He took off his shoes, and socks, and removed his pants from the bottom of his ankles. He was completely naked now, his massive muscular body taking up half the couch, his thick staff pointed straight up. His eyes were glued to me, hungrily. He was taking in every inch of my body, which was completely naked except for a pair of black high-heel shoes.

"I love it when you're wearing only those shoes," he said.

I knew that. He told me all the time how sexy I looked in heels.

Whenever I wear only heels for him, I think back to that night he brought me back to his place after a night of drinking and dancing, took off all of my clothes except for my shoes, bent me over his marble kitchen countertop, and entered me from behind. The cold marble against my nipples, and his hot chest against my back, filled me with ecstasy, and I never wanted to leave. From that day forward, he would get stiff the moment he saw me put on heels. The image of me bending over in front of him, wearing only my heels, was imprinted in his mind forever. That's why the first thing he mentions when I'm in heels, is my ass.

"Your ass," he said. "It's so beautiful."

I turned around and bent over so he could get a full view. I turned my head around back to him and placed one index finger to my lips. "This ass?" I asked innocently.

Like a flash, he immediately stood up and started walking straight toward me. I knew he was going to try to bring me to the marble countertop in the kitchen, to recreate that magic night.

I turned around towards him. "Sit down," I commanded. It was time for us to form new memories of me in heels.

He hesitated. It took everything he had inside of him to obey my orders. Slowly, grudgingly, he sat back down on the couch to watch the show I was putting on for him.

I brought my fingers to my pussy and started rubbing the slick folds. "Mmmm," I moaned. "You make me so wet." Then, my fingers coated with my juices, I brought them up to my mouth. I put two fingers into my mouth and started sucking on them. "Mmmm," I moaned again. "Delicious." My man's jaw dropped. He was staring now, unable to look anywhere else but at me. The building could have been on fire, and he would have continued looking right at me.

Now that I had him mesmerized, and feeling like a sex goddess, I slowly walked towards him. Each step I took broadened his smile wider and wider. He slid down on the couch so I could easily mount him. I stepped right between his open legs, turned away from him so he could see the ass he loved so much, placed my hands down on his powerful thighs, and lowered myself, inch by inch. The tip of his cock touched the outer layer of my pussy. An electric pulse went through my skin.

"Oh god," he said. "Yes."

I hated to delay it any longer, but I wanted to drive him into a frenzy. And he wasn't in a frenzy yet. So I lifted up, pressed the back of my ass against his hard, strong cock, and, using my ass only, pushed his cock back up against his rock-hard stomach. My pussy was rubbing against the base of his shaft, and against his balls, while his tip was against his stomach, unsatisfied, and pulsating beneath me. I moved my ass back and forth. He tried to maneuver his cock into me, by grabbing my hips, and thrusting. But I pulled away in time.

"Stay still," I told him. I sat back down, rubbing up against his shaft, teasing myself into a tizzy. I saw his balls moving in their sack, swelling up, getting ready to burst with semen at the first moment his cock gave the order. But, like the rest of him, his balls were disciplined. They were still awaiting his orders before they released. I kept rubbing my ass against him. My pussy was feeling more tender and sensitive as I was rubbing against his shaft. I was torturing myself, along with my man. I wanted to scream for him to take me. But what I really wanted was for him to stop listening to me, to ignore all chivalry and respect and decency, and just pin me down and thrust inside me already. I've been bad, I've been keeping him frustrated, and I needed him to punish me with angry sex.

Back and forth, back and forth. My ass against his shaft. I turned my head to look at his beautiful face. He was staring at me, glassy-eyed. He was paralyzed with lust.

"Mmmm," I moaned, as I licked my lips.

I stood up, turned around to face him, and straddled his powerful legs. I brought my gushing-wet pussy down, down, and, with my hand, pushed his swollen cock down against his stomach. I started rubbing my pussy against his shaft again, only this time I was facing my gorgeous man, who was immobile as a statue. I think I might have short-circuited his brain, he was so still. I pleasured myself against his shaft, rubbing my sensitive clit against it. I wanted him inside me so badly I was going to scream. One hand was on the tip of his cock; my other hand was stroking his chiseled abs. I rocked my hips back and forth and moaned.

A woman has her limits. And I'm no exception. I took his massive, throbbing cock in my hand and slid it into my pussy that needed to be filled. I sat down on his hard cock as it filled me up and made all of the skin on my body tingle with joy. His cock got even harder inside me, and started growing more, stretching me out from the inside.

"Ahhhh," I moaned. The curvature of his cock brushed against my G-spot.

I could almost hear his cock shouting, "I'm home! Finally, I'm home!"

I rode his cock up and down, while my hands were pressed against his muscular chest, and we locked eyes in a lustful stare. His face was pure bliss.

For only ten seconds I rode his cock, and then, I shuddered in orgasm. I came so quickly. In my efforts to please my man, and put on a show for him, and work him into a frenzy, I barely noticed how I was being worked into a frenzy too. I stopped, closed my eyes, and relaxed.

He waited a bit while I did nothing, trying to send me psychic signals to continue riding him. I intentionally did not pick up on the signals, and just straddled him, my pussy still enveloping his cock, waiting to see what he would do. Waiting for him to take charge while I kept pretending that I wanted to be in control. Finally, he waited no longer.

"Keep going," he commanded, now brimming with frustration.

"No," I denied him. My own needs satisfied somewhat, I could resume torturing him, for just a little bit longer at any rate. Until he stops listening to me, pushes me into the carpet and drills into me.

I dismounted him. Straddling was going to be too tempting for him and for me. I got on my knees in front of him, and started stroking his angry, frustrated cock with my hand. It was wet from the oil I first used, and from my juices, and I stroked it as hard as I could, locking eyes with my man. I could see the fire raging out of control in those eyes. I knew my sweet punishment was going to come soon.

"Mmhph," he let out, in a frustrated groan. But he was still being tactful. Still obeying the rules of decency and respect that were keeping us both so frustrated. A little more, I thought, and he would push straight past my "no," and give us both what we wanted.

I kept stroking his cock, staring at him, and moaning. I let go. I leaned back and rubbed my pussy. I rubbed my clit. I was ready to go once again, right now. He had a wide-open view of my pussy, and he was eyeing it ravenously.

He stood up.

"No," I commanded. "Not yet."

But it's as if my words meant nothing at this point.

"Yes!" he shouted. He pounced on me, pinning my shoulders down against the carpet. I couldn't have fought him off if I wanted to. An army couldn't have pulled him off of me.