but then again, its kind like putting a meat suit on and telling a shark not to eat you
We (men) are not fucking sharks!
We are not rabid animals living off of pure instinct
We are capable of rational thinking and understanding.
Just because someone is cooking food doesn’t mean you’re entitled to eat it.
Just because a banker is counting money doesn’t mean you’re being given free money.
Just because a person is naked doesn’t mean you’re entitled to fuck them.
You are not entitled to someone else’s body just because it’s exposed.
What is so fucking difficult about this concept?
Like Saturday evening, when we got out of the shower, and Miss K went to lie down on our bed. I followed and stood beside her, and while we were talking, she flashed me a mischievous smile and picked up the vibrator that was on the nightstand (there is almost always a vibrator on our nightstand). She handed it to me, and I smiled back, already anticipating the thrill of pleasuring her, but she shook her head and said, quite simply, “No. You.”
Never one to argue with an order, I dutifully spread my legs, turned the vibe on, and placed it against my clit. I love it when she watches me, and she was wearing the most delicious smirk. It wasn’t long before I was lost in my own little world of pleasure and delight, and I found myself bending to place by hands on the bed, trying to steady myself.
I was promptly reprimanded. “No, stand up straight,” she said, and I laughed because the notion of practicing any sort of self control while I was well on my way to losing any semblance of it seems absurd. She only had to repeat herself once, however, before I remembered myself and hurried to comply.
For the record, it is no easy feat to maintain good posture whilst fucking oneself. I did a fair bit of wobbling, nearly fell over once or twice, and had to be corrected a few times. But somehow, I managed to keep from collapsing in a happy heap when the first orgasm struck me.
I did something a bit daring, after that. I went rogue. I kept the vibrator in place, as I had not been told to stop yet, and I leaned down to taste her, flicking my tongue back and forth against her clit, delighting in the sound she made - surprised but most certainly pleased.
Usually, unless I’m wearing my strap-on or we’re feeling up to a bit of gymnastics, we take turns pleasing one another. Which is perfectly fine. I do enjoy being able to focus completely on pleasing her. But there is certainly something wonderful about bring able to share one another’s pleasure. Hearing and feeling her arousal building just excited me more, and I experience a long, slow, delightful buildup - lots of little almost-orgasms before I finally burst, lifting my head, for a moment, to scream before lowering it again to moan against her as the aftershocks rippled through me and she followed me over the edge and I lapped up every last drop of her, feeling somehow sated and ravenous, all at once.
Afterwards, she said perhaps she should make me do that every day. It would be a good workout for my legs, after all, and a pony needs strong legs. That thought makes my heart glow in such a manner that if you stuck a lightbulb in my mouth, I have no doubt it would illuminate.