His fingers slid down my abdomen, then down my leg, well past where I wanted them to be. He rested his hand on my inner thigh, brushing up and down, never quite reaching my now-wet pussy. I was terrified, thinking it through. I had never wanted anyone so badly, for so long - but he had promised not to let me climax. Could I even handle that? What if I lost my shit completely?
His teeth nipped my earlobe. "Normal is dull." His voice was quiet; it always turned me on a bit, but now it slid almost physically into my mind. "How many times have you said that? You wouldn't even like me if I were normal. You wouldn't be interested in me at all."
I hated that he was right. But my annoyance transferred to what he was doing with his hand on my leg. Each stroke up came infinitesimally closer to my lips, to the wetness there that longed to be touched. Further up, but never quite there. Meanwhile his mouth moved down my neck, across my chest. His lips found my breast and then I felt his teeth on my nipple, gently nibbling. "Mmmm" he murmured. "I think this is not quite how you like it, though." He drew more of my breast into his mouth and thrust his tongue roughly over the areola. At the same time the hand that had been stroking my thigh slid confidently upwards into my slick wetness, his strong thumb pushing against my clit. I gasped and almost came then. "Oh yes," he murmured. "There we go." And then he stopped, and simply looked at me.
I reached for him instinctively, my body craving his touch already, the absence of it almost painful. He drew back slightly. "And how is that?"
I couldn't speak. I reached again for him, wanting to touch his erect cock, which I noticed for the first time. It was thick and delicious looking, practically begging me to wrap my hand around it. Daniel grabbed my hand and moved it behind my back. "No."
"But..."
"You don't get to give, here." He looked at me almost gently. "I know you. I know you probably get as much pleasure from pleasing your partner as you receive from him. But we're not doing that tonight. I'm going to take, but you're not going to give. Not willingly."
I think I whimpered. "What - " He put his hand over my mouth. I could smell myself on him, and I wanted more. I didn't care, anymore, what was going to happen. I just wanted his hands on me, his mouth on me. I wanted his cock inside me. I wanted as much of him as I could get and I would do what he asked, so long as he didn't stop.
I think he saw my capitulation then. His hand snaked around to the back of my neck and he pulled me toward him, kissing me hard again, his tongue pushing past my lips, sweeping against mine, exploring my mouth. He lay on top of me, his erection pushing against my thigh, his weight holding me down. His hand grabbed my ass, then slid up and cupped my breast before squeezing it. Then his mouth was sliding down my body again, first to one breast, then the other, then he was trailing his tongue across my stomach, swirling around my belly button, and then lower, lower...
He took forever to get there. I never knew how exquisite kisses on my belly could feel. Exquisite and insufficient. I felt every kiss like a brand and longed for more. His mouth traveled down and then up again, back to my breasts. I almost came from him sucking hard on my nipples, but he knew. He knew every time I was close, and he backed off, kissed my shoulder, my ribs, my belly...
And then finally, after what seemed like hours, his tongue - his surprisingly strong, supple tongue - was running over my clit, licking not quite hard enough, then sliding between my lips into me, then out again, and over my clit, then down again. I couldn't bear it, it was so good, but not enough, just barely not enough. I was panting, twisting, trying to get more pressure, more sensation. Daniel pulled back, grinning. "You ARE having a time of it, aren't you?"
"Please" was all I could say. My dignity-preserving mechanisms were gone. All I wanted was him, in my pussy. I didn't care which parts of him. I needed him more than oxygen, right then. He slid back down, his tongue teasing in and out of me and around my throbbing clit. My nerves started to fail, and I began to lose feeling. Sensing this, he sat back on his heels and looked at me. "Don't give up on me now," he said. "There's plenty more to come." His strong hands pulled me towards him. "I wonder if you can handle me inside you, a little."
"Oh, yes. Yes. Please, please," I hated the pleading tone in my voice but I said it anyway. It was a small price to pay. He pulled my hips partway up his legs, then angled his cock with his hand and pushed into me, careful to avoid my swollen clit. I was so wet there was barely any resistance despite his girth. But I could feel him - oh, how I could feel him, stretching me so beautifully. And oh, how I wanted him to lean forward into me, to push himself all the way in so the root of his cock would rock against my clit and send me over the edge into what would have been an orgasm to end all orgasms. But of course he didn't. He slid in only a few inches, then out, slowly, over and over, those few delicious inches. Despite the limited pressure I could feel every millimetre of every stroke, and I felt my pussy start to clench around him. I love my body, I thought. I was going to come anyway. I would come from just that little bit of him. He was so underestimating the power of my arousal. Everything inside me tightened up, preparing for release. And then his cock was gone, and he was sitting back again, a wondering smile on his face. "You are something else," he said, shaking his head. "That won't do, at all."
I stared at him, too dazed to even whimper. I shook my head. "No" I whispered. "No don't."
"Get up," he said. "Kneel here."
I knew what he wanted. I knew because I'd told him, long ago, that I didn't particularly like giving blow jobs, and it was now apparent that there was no way he'd conveniently forgotten. But I would do it, I would do it gladly just so I could keep him inside me, somehow.
I knelt before him, his cock level with my face. "This is how we have to finish this," he said, almost regretfully. I was torn between the raging, still on-the-edge feeling of almost—orgasm, and the desire to give him pleasure, to let him release. I took his cock in my mouth, sucking him further in than I'd thought myself capable, letting him thrust into me, trying to feel it in my whole body, and failing miserably. He took my face in his hands and part of me rejoiced at the gentleness of that touch, while the rest of me screamed in protest. I wanted him to come. I wanted it to never end. I wanted just to hold him, and damn it, I wanted him to like that and I wanted him to take me in his arms and hold me. But as I heard his breath grow ragged, and as he thrust into my aching mouth, his cock hardening more, I realized that he would never be what I needed. I would always long for him to touch me with love and he would only take joy in my pain. My heart broke then, finally, and tears streamed out of my eyes as my mouth still held his pumping cock.
He moaned in surprise and came hard, as my hot tears slid over his hands, tangible tracks of my despair. I dutifully gulped and swallowed. Then I collapsed, curling into a ball, trying desperately not to cry aloud. My arousal hadn't abated. I still craved touch between my legs, but I no longer wanted to come. That release seemed wrong, now. I was in pain, and I had to stay that way.
After a minute, Daniel gently pulled me up to my knees. He held me by my shoulders. I couldn't look at him. I stared down at the dock and the towel bunched up beneath me. He bent his head, and kissed me gently on my forehead. "Thank you."
Then he said nothing more, and started to get dressed. After a minute or two, I did the same.
We were silent until we were ready to go. He looked at me. I don't know what I looked like, then. A mess, probably, a haunted, tortured mess. He gave me a crooked grin. "Shall we head to the pub then?"
I probably shouldn't have hit him. I had known what I was getting into, and yes, I had wanted it. But that right hook was exactly the kind of satisfying I needed, then. And I knew as it landed that I would survive him. The rueful grin he gave me after, and the knowing look, said that he had never doubted that. He had fully expected the punch. I realized that in his own weird way he loved me, that I was the only person in the world who could have done that for him.
It wasn't what I wanted. But it would have to be enough.
