What I Want p2

Quite a while has passed since my last writing about things with Stacy, which means, of course, that I agreed to the rules. A full listing is really necessary, since they really boil down to one thing: “She’s in control of when and how I orgasm.” Everything else really flows from that. The bit that took the most to get used to, and to be honest, still causes me some conflicted thoughts is referring to my penis as “hers” – meaning that I’m sort of the caretaker, if you will, for her male organ.

Anyway, things progressed slowly at first. A call here or there to come over and be teased, always with the blindfold on and always being sent home aching for release. On a good day, there’d be an email waiting for me when I got home giving me permission, otherwise, I might visit her two or three times before release was granted.

I don’t want you to think she was cruel, we both knew without too much discussion that was the agreement and she loved the control as much as I loved being tormented.

The only hitch in things, which in hindsight was probably a good thing since it kept us in check, was that Stacy was dating a girl and she was inclined to think it might get pretty serious. This of course meant things between her and I could (and likely would) end at anytime and she didn’t want things to get too far out of hand. I suppose for the first few weeks.

One day, about two weeks ago, we were sitting on her couch. I was, as usual, blindfolded, but something seemed different. I picked up on it from the start, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up and to be honest, I’d learned that she talked about the things she wanted to and it wasn’t worth the effort to bring up things she didn’t.

Time slide by as one inane half-hour show slid into another. Finally I hear a sound a soft sound, but distinctly a moan. I felt electrified. From, the short bit of her I’d seen before donning the blindfold, I recalled she was wearing sweatpants. My mind instantly latched onto the fact that she was touching herself and my nose soon confirmed the maddening first hints of her scent. Next my ears picked up the delectable sounds squishy sounds fingers make while fingering. I licked my lips, a million questions running through my brain, wondering if today was a day she’d like me to ask about what she was doing.

She spoke before I did, her voice soft, “Guess happened last night.”

I frowned, “I don’t know..”

A soft sigh, “Guess.”

“You won the lottery?” A half-hearted guess at best.

“Well, the depends on what lottery you’re talking about.” She sounded smug and pleased, letting the last word be followed by a low moan before continuing, “Adia and I talked about..” Another moan caused her to drift off, “Lots of things..”

I could feel the sweat on my brow, confused. I’d always imagined this would mean no more for her and I, but her I was and she was clearing fingering herself. I opted to sit quietly and wait.

The soft squishy sounds grew, not so much louder, but more frequent. My cock ached inside my pants. Another show ended, the news was due up next – twice the absurd backdrop for such happenings as the last time I wrote about things.

Her voice soft and teasing, “Don’t you want to ask anything?”

You better believe I did, but I wasn’t sure what to ask first, “Of course.. I’m just not sure what you’d like me to know.”

A soft intake of breath from her and I knew she was truly enjoying things, “You could start with.. Asking.. about.. what we talked.. about.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Lots of things, but.. in part, being monogamous or being open.”

I swallowed; this clearly wasn’t going to be good for me. “Did you decide anything?”

A deep groan, “Oh, yes.. we did.” Her scent was growing stronger and stronger. I could see her in my mind, sweats and panties, if she was wearing any, pulled down. Her pussy exposed for the entire world, save me, to see. No doubt one had was fingering and the other tweaking her nipples. Oh what I wouldn’t give to see that just one time, even if only for a second.

“We decided, that casual sex with others… messes up things between… girls who are getting’ serious..” A long pause, I knew she was tormenting me. “Guess what else happened last night..”

“I don’t’ know.. You had and Adia and mind-blowing sex?” My cock throbbing gently in my pants. Mentally, I was willing her to touch me.. to tease me, but she didn’t.

“MMMmmm, of course we did, we always do. God, if only you could feel her tongue..” another sharp intake of breath, “licking.. she has this maddening way of doing it..” A groan, “her breath on my thighs.. jesus you have no idea how fucking good she is.”

I could only, mentally, whimper. No, I had no idea, but my hormone over-filled mind was clearly giving it a go. The image of them locked together, writhing on the bed in pleasure and lust, it’s a wonder I didn’t break down and masturbate then and there.

A stroke, pardon the pun, of boldness hit me, “So, does that mean.. this is the last…?” My voice tailed off.

I could just feel the grin on her face and knew that mine was flushed. She took her time coming to an answer, “Well, no.. not exactly.” The squishy sounds faded, “I gave her that story you wrote.”

The silence, save my thumping heart, was deafening. She let it linger, no doubt enjoying my torment.

Finally, I asked, “What did she think?”

I felt the lightest touch of her hand on my jean covered hardness, “MMmm.. so firm, so constrained.. so aching, I imagine.. right?”

My voice soft, she’d hardly ever touched me with her hand, “Yes.. aching..”

The cheshire-grin no doubt on her face, “You can choose, either.. I do this firmer,” her hand petted my cock, “or I’ll tell her what she thought.”

My addled mind raced. Of course it meant that if she was willing to do this that things weren’t going to be over. I mean, I couldn’t see a downside to picking the stroking and the implied orgasm – the first directly by her hand. That’s exactly what gave me pause, we’d done a question and answer game before, but in the past the right answer hadn’t been so clear. Was there something about her reply that was worth my hearing over the stroking? Clearly, that was hidden, or perhaps not so hidden, implication. The possibilities there flooded my mind, though I knew from past conversations, Adia was extremely unlikely to be interested in the things we did.

What if it was that I asked what she said, that something better could happen and if I didn’t ask, it wouldn’t? Would Stacy do that? Of course she would and, no doubt, taunt me with it. Or would she set this up thinking I’d have to know what Adia had said and pass up what would the first, and possibly only, hand job offer to be made?

Her hand rested lightly on my aching cock, “Well? Made up your mind?”

“You’re cruel.”

“You love it. Choose.”

With, a mental curse, a throb and dull ache, a lick of the lips and quick prayer, “As always, the touching.. is up to you, it’s not for me to choose. So, tell me.. what she said.” With parting squeeze her hand left my crotch and I couldn’t help by whimper.

“Interesting choice, but you’re right, it is mine and before I give you the answer, why don’t you let me see it.”

I could have choked, it was the rarest of things for this to be asked for. A few fumbles later and I was sitting bare from the waist down, pants around my ankles, cock sticking out into the air, ever so glad to be free.

“Mmm.. so hard and wanting, but not to be touched. Anyway, enough torment. I’d actually sent her the link to your story a few days ago, but hadn’t had time to ask if she’d read it. Last night, before the serious talk, I asked her what she thought.” The light touch of her fingernail grazed my cheek. “Now sit still.” The nail traced my lips and I set as still as I could, the touch itching, making me want to lick my lips. “She thought it was sort of funny.” Her nail giving goose bumps as it slide down my neck. “We talked about it.” Her finger tips sliding over my shirt, “She said she wasn’t really into such things, kinky stuff like that. She has her own.. little set of insatiable and naughty desires you know.” Finger tips found my hard nipple, pinching lightly at first and then harder, “I asked what she thought if I’d done something like that, her knowing it’s just a play thing and nothing serious.” The pinch grew slowly into a twist, “She gave it some thought, especially in light of serious talk, and later said she’d probably be ok with it.”

I could feel her breath, her lips right next to my ear. She twisted the other way, making me moan and flex my hips. My voice so soft, “Please tell me you’re not kidding.”

I swear I could feel her lips on my ear, “Whose hard cock is that begging for attention?”

I swallowed, uncharted territory, “Yours..”

“Do you think my cock deserves attention?”

“If you’d wish it have some..”

“Ask.”

My lips and mouth so dry, “May I give your cock some attention?”

“Yes, but slowly.”

My mind reeled as I slowly stroked my cock, uncharted territory indeed. Up and down my hand moved, hips flexing and moving in time.

“How long as it been since my cock spurted?”

As if either of us didn’t know, “Four days.” Which isn’t a very long time, but short enough to really miss the last orgasm and for the body to still want and expect another one.

Her fingers slid to my other nipple, tweaking it and making me gasp. Her tongue traced the edge of my ear, “Easy, go slower.”

Whimpering in frustration, I slowed my increasing stroking. The need to orgasm growing ever stronger and the urge to ask, to beg, growing. “Please..”

A harder pinch, “Please what?”

“Please.. may your cock orgasm..?” I felt so foolish. The words seeming so stilted.

“That’s up to you.”

Confusion, “Up to me?” As if there was any doubt what I’d pick.

Of course, with her, there’s always a hitch, “You can choose to.. or you can choose something else.”

“Please, no choices. Please, just tell me I can.” A twinge of desperation filling me.

Her smiling voice as her hand left my gently stinging nipple and grasped my stroking hand. The idle thought of what the hell was I going to make of this later fluttered into my head to be chased off by the growing sense of impending orgasm growing in my balls.

“Here’s the choice: Either you can spurt here and now, with me watching.. and you cleaning up any mess made or you can stop now and, you see, Adia would like to meet you. She doesn’t know you wrote the story and is curious to meet the boytoy, but you need to agree to that.”

Silence while I digested that.

“One more little note to influence things, I promise, if you choose to meet Adia, you won’t ever forget the evening.” Oh how the lingering promise of something unknown, but impishly good is maddening appealing.

“When would I meet her?”

“Tomorrow evening.”

Of course, by now, you probably know my mind. She’d manipulated me like a fiddle player who’d beat Johnny and his fiddle made of gold. The rest of the night was anticlimactic, in more ways that one. We got dressed and talked, with the blindfold off and my face beat red the whole time. My cock truly aching in my pants and mind reeling what had happened and what I’d agreed to.

Curiosity killed the cat and, worse still, made the horny man choose on the manipulative promise of an unforgettable evening over gratification. Later it would dawn on me that the promise hadn’t been for a good unforgettable, just unforgettable.

Only the most restless of sleeps visited me that night.