Normally when something sexy is going to happen, I know. There are always signs that point in the direction.
Not this time.
Last week I shared a post about the Voices in My Head and I quite rightfully received the advice that I should talk to Master T. Of course I knew this, but I really have difficulty asking things for myself. But, I did talk to him. I told him I feel lonely, I feel like I am not good enough. He assured me not to worry, that it’s not me, it’s him.
He really tried to give me some attention, occasionally touching my back or my hand.
Then, Friday night.
There were no signs to tell me that something sexy might happen. We had a drink together, watch some TV together and then went to bed. I was already in bed, my eyes closed when he got into bed, and as he had started doing again, put my night collar around my neck. Sometimes when he does, especially when I am as tired as I was, I lay my head on his tummy waiting for him to fasten the collar. I did so and he ran his hand over my back. I liked it and stayed like that a bit longer. He ran his hand lower, to my buttocks and I decided to stay like that for some more minutes. His warm hand on me was soothing, nice.
“I can’t reach you properly,” he said.
I thought he wanted to touch my buttocks, so I moved my butt a bit closer for him. He tried to get a finger between my legs but could only do so when I moved closer still. His finger entered me and I was quite surprised when I heard how wet I was. I moved my position once more to give him more access..
“Turn on your back.”
I don’t think I ever moved that quickly. No matter how tired I was, what time it was, that we had to get up on time the next morning… nothing else than his touch mattered at that moment. He fingered me, rubbed my clitoris, fingered me again. Soon I asked for permission for a climax. No matter how long nothing happened between us, I immediately was ready to ask for permission again. Permission as granted; my orgasm a fact.
More fingering. More rubbing of my clitoris. More orgasms. Wet ones. Squirty ones. I felt fluids running between my legs and pooling under my back. I wanted more and more and more. I begged for more and more and more.
We kissed. Tongues twirling.
We reconnected. Mouths against each other. Breathing.
We were still us.
Despite many orgasms, my need built. I asked him to push more fingers inside me. He did, and I rubbed my clitoris. Hard. I needed an all-consuming orgasm, but it eluded me. The harder I rubbed, the more it moved away. Frustration wanted to enter my mind, but I pushed it away. I settled with a different kind of orgasm, moved my hand away and enjoyed his fingers inside me.
He pulled his hand away and put my hand on my cunt. I knew what I had to do. Even though it was a long time ago, I know he wanted me to bring myself to a climax. He loves to watch.
After two orgasms at my own hand, he started fingering me again, and again I frigged my clitoris. That huge orgasm was not going to be mine tonight. I didn’t mind.
There was too much that made me happy in that moment. To be touched. To be loved. To be. The wet bed under me made me smile. My tender cunt – probably from no action for too long – made me smile.
I lay in his arms afterwards, breathing hard. My head was against his chest. Listening to his heartbeat was soothing.
I pushed my hand under the covers and even before I reached his crotch, he said: “It’s okay baby.”
I knew what he meant, and yes, he was right. It’s okay. If he doesn’t feel the desire for sex, it’s okay. It will return, all in good time. For that moment I felt loved and safe and I knew all my bad thoughts of earlier the week, all those voices in my head, all of those were lies.
I think I fell asleep with a smile on my face.