You Asked Me What I Want

Sitting next to you, I lean in for a kiss. Soft brushing of lips, my body reaching for your heat. One hand reaching up to run through your hair. Relishing the thickness of it, the softness. My other hand reaches down, lower, brushing against your dick. Rubbing against the hardness, wrapping my fingers around you.

Lingering kisses, soft and slow, your lips against mine, your tongue and mine. Pressing my body against you, feeling your arm around me, your hands gripping me. Rubbing and stroking you; firm and solid in my hand.

Rising up and straddling you, still stroking and squeezing, still kissing, deeper. Your hands on my hips, holding me steady, letting me please you. Pausing to lift off my shirt, to unhook my bra, baring my breasts for you. Sliding my hand down your arm, stroking, caressing, grabbing your hand. Bringing it to my face to feel your skin on mine before licking your thumb, my eyes on yours. Taking it into my mouth, my other hand stroking your dick. Swirling my tongue around your thumb and slowly dragging my teeth against the tip, grazing, before bringing your hand to my breasts. Open invitation, begging to touch and play with them.

Straddling, grinding, rubbing, half naked for you, your hands on my breasts. Your fingers creating a pleasurable agony, teasing and tormenting my nipples. Making me moan and whimper, for it to stop, for it to continue. Your mouth on them, the sensation impeding my hand on you, but the pleasure forcing my body to arch against you and my hips to squirm and writhe on you. My hands reach up for you, my fingers through your hair again, holding you to me, mine.

And though I want more, want your fingers and mouth to move lower, the ache between my legs is growing to a throb, my body responding to you, not yet. Not yet. Gently pushing your hands away, I stand up and remove what remains of my clothing. I kneel for you, looking up at you. I am yours. I belong to you. And oh how I want to please you. Through your pants I kiss your dick before freeing it. I love seeing it, how hard you are for me, how much pull I have over you to be the reason for your arousal. Me. I did this. It's a heady feeling, the power and knowledge of your desire for me. And for a little while, I feel like the goddess you see in me.

My fingers wrap around you again. And I love the duality, that though you are hard and wanting, the skin is soft. The sensation is lovely and I enjoy the touch, so much that I stroke your dick, soft and slow at first, relishing the touch. Watching you lean back to enjoy my worship. Leaning down to flick my tongue over the head of your dick, then slide my tongue down its length, lightest, barest touch down to the base. Pressing my tongue against the shaft, a long slow lick back up to the tip. Pausing to suck at the spot just under the head, releasing long enough to take you into my mouth, only that little bit. Swirling my tongue, grazing with my teeth, as I had your thumb.

I take my time, licking the length of you, planting kisses and nips. My hands and fingers grip you, stroke you, press against you. My eyes looking to you, gauging your reactions - I, too, listen and learn and sense what you like. And I want to please you, need to please you with every fiber of my body, heart, mind, and soul. You are my focus. I need to give this to you, this love and worship. I need you to relax and enjoy every touch, to feel loved and desired. And though I want to speed up, am eager for you, am throbbing and pulsing and swollen and soaked with my need for you, I suppress my wants for yours. And this giving, this act of service, this submission to you, fills me with an intoxicating sense of power and love and my own pleasure and joy in knowing that this is me, giving to you, causing you such pleasure. I must go slow, must linger in touch and taste; my desperation and eagerness cannot be allowed to take away from your enjoyment.

And so, soft and slow, gentle licks and nips and caresses. Taking you into my mouth, shallow at first, and then deeper. Unrushed, my tongue along your length, my teeth grazing the skin. Hand gripping the base of your dick, sucking faster, harder. Taking you into my mouth, pulling back, again and again. Rising intensity, your sounds spurring me faster.

Soon, but not yet, and I pause, pulling off, looking up at you. Adoring you, worshiping you, wanting to make you feel happy and loved and strong. "Please Cory, please cum for me. Cum in my mouth, I need to taste you." Reaching for your hand, bringing it to my head. Need to feel your grip, guiding me to the rhythm you need. Need to feel your power over me, and that my worship is yours, your control over me. That I am yours.

Your fingers curl and grip my hair, and my mouth returns to your dick, swallowing you. Your hand pushing me down, the speed you need, the intensity and rhythm that will bring you over the edge. Your groans and growls and snarls elicit my own moans, any finesse I had fading to the raw fucking, my mouth, my face, a hole for you to use, to fill. And I need you to fill me, just as much as you need this. Your throbbing fills my mouth, and you cum in me, hot and filling me. I have never spilled a drop, but I struggle to swallow all of it. I keep sucking and moving up and down your dick until I am certain that you have finished, licking until I am sure that I have cleaned all of it off of you. The salty aftertaste fills me with a sense of pride, that this tangible result of your need and pleasure and desire. Contentment that this part of you is inside me, mine.

I kneel and wait until you recover and undress. You pull me to you, on top of you, straddling you once more. Your hand reaches between my legs, where I am soaked and swollen for you. You rub labia, and I arch towards you, desiring more contact, more pressure. But no, you control my pleasure, my body. You tease, enjoying my whimpers. Your finger slides between, touching my clit, and I buck against that light touch. More, please. Your other hand rests on my hip, a firm grip, stilling me. Not yet, you want to enjoy my wetness, my rising desperation, my whines and whimpers.

Rubbing, slowly, making me shiver, your teasing bringing a flush to my cheeks. Finally a finger slips inside, then another, your fingers filling me. The grip on my hips lightens, urging me, allowing me to grind against your hand. fucking it, moaning in need and the humiliation of this desperation and your amusement. Your hands bring me to the edge, and withdraw, in spite of my frustrated growls and whimpers.

Both hands grip me, one slick with me, pulling me down against you. Hard against me, you urge me to grind against you. To slide my clit over you, my need soaking your dick. With this implicit permission, I hump against you, my frenzied need overriding the blushing humiliation. Sweet misery, the shivering pleasure rising white hot up my back, tingles and heat spreading through my body, my breasts, my nipples hardening.

"Please, Cory. Please." Breathless begging, struggling to hold back. I need to hear you say it, need to submit my wants to you.

"Words, kitten. Please what?"

Groaning frustration, because words become hard, the haze filling my body, my mind, a fog of pleasure where my only awareness is this feeling and you. Nothing else exists.

"Please, I wanna cum. Please."

"Good girl. Cum for me, kitten."

And I'm no longer holding back, no longer straining to fight against the need, the building heat and tingling pleasure. It consumes me, like fire, and I writhe on top of you, senseless sounds and thrashing, shuddering.

You lift me from you, enough to slide inside of me, thrusting up into me, hard and deep. So close to my orgasm, it drives me into another, spasming and arching and moaning cries. Your hands pull me faster, riding you hard, and my hips move with you, grinding and gyrating. More, I need more of you, I need you into the deepest parts of me, to fill me over and over again and soothe the ache.

"Cum for me kitten, be a good girl." Growling commands and my body responds, whether I wish it to or not. My hips move to your rhythm, fucking you, unable to stop until you order it. I feel the rippling pleasure through my body again, and I cannot hold my shivering body upright against it. I collapse on you, huddled against you and shaking. You don't stop, driving into me, pulling me down on you, forcing me again and again, my squirming and shuddering, my whimpers and whispered cries of your name against your chest, pleasing you, spurring you harder, faster, deeper. Though I feel that I cannot again, you prove me wrong, and I need this, need you, to satisfy the need for friction and pressure and heat, pressing and pounding against my cervix. The need to be filled completely, to feel whole.

And I am lost, pleasure and haze taking me until I am a sobbing mess. I cannot, there is no more, but you know my body, it is yours. I have no control; you own me, possess me, guiding me higher and deeper into this space where there is nothing but you inside me, your hands on me, the need consuming me. This is all that I am, all there is - you using me, pleasuring me to pleasure you, my submission of my body and soul. Those hands draw me up, grip my wrists, pulling me. My legs are trembling, my stomach tight, but i buck, grind and slide and rise and fall against you, focusing my being on what you now need. I cannot keep my eyes open, so lost in the heady haze. Keeping pace, drawing your growls and snarls. Your hands restraining my hands, my arms, pinning them to my side, forcing me to arch and undulate, working myself hard against you until you growl and snarl and cum inside me.

Releasing me, your hands caressing my body, lovingly over my skin. I am spent, or so I think, and you let me rest, cradling me against you. I float, shuddering and trembling and raspy breath against you. Content and safe and satisfied in your embrace, I huddle in the darkness behind my closed eyes, desiring to stay here, in this state, relishing your hands on me.

And though I think that I am done, though I am a wet trembling mess, you disagree. You aren't done with me, and never will be.