Maybe Someday

We fuck for a while, Michelle on her back, me up on my arms above her, kissing her lips and arching down to press my face into her breasts. We fuck until she’s warm and placid and screwing up her face with every thrust. But then she asks me to stop, she’s had enough, it’s too dry this time of the month.

So I come in beside her and gently rub her clit for another fifteen minutes, continuing to kiss her on the lips and breasts and tell her how much I adore her.

Eventually she comes. It’s a breathy orgasm eliciting those delicious half-controlled squeaks of pleasure I love to hear so much. When she’s finished she asks me to turn the fan on her and then just lies there in the afterglow with a dreamy look on her face.

Meanwhile I am attempting to masturbate, but find I cannot get an erection with her lying there. When I am chaste, as I am at the moment, I seem to spend many hours each day with an erection, so why not now?

At first, I think it is because I want her to help me out, want her to be involved in my pleasure, even though it will not result in orgasm for me.

So I say to her, ‘I’d really like it if there was something for me…’ She knows I mean that I would like her to jerk me off, or touch me while I masturbate.

‘And maybe someday, there will be,’ she says, a smug smile on her face. She has no intention of helping me out tonight.

I discuss the fact that I cannot seem to masturbate when she is there, and she suggests it is because the presence of her real body disrupts my fantasy of her. I agree that this might be so.

She replies: ‘well, I’ll happily get out of your way, and you can think about me doing whatever you like.’ She goes to take a shower. This is presumably what she wanted to do all along, when she’d enjoyed her bliss-out. I walked right into that one.

As she is walking out, my eyes trailing her voluptuous bottom across the room, I call her delicious, and generally compliment her on her selfishness, which I find incredibly sexy.

Her response: ‘Hey, you asked for it, you’ll get it.’

That sort of thing is becoming more natural to her, and to me; it is a wonderful experience, to know that her dominant use of me for sex is based on a free and genuine desire, not completely caught up in feelings of obligation to fulfill my own fantasy of submission. I was genuinely asking her to help me out. Now I am amused and entranced by her denial.

But I find when she is gone that I can’t masturbate then, either. I’m actually just not interested. I don’t have blue balls or a sore stomach. And I don’t have a feverish desire to orgasm, or even to edge. In fact, I basically feel like going to sleep.

We had sex, she came, and then it was over.

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