On a quiet Saturday morning, I sit between your legs and start stroking you. Never one to argue with some attention, you settle in and relax a bit.
“How long since your last O,” I ask. You look at me with a bit of suspicion and reply, “I’m not sure.”
I start stroking harder and then softer, keeping you right on the edge. I edge you once, twice and then it starts blurring together as one edge runs right into another.
I watch you starting to lose control, worried that you will cum without permission and making frustrated noises. You look down and growl at my smirk which just makes me completely start laughing.
And at that point, you know. You can try to keep control. You can fight the waves and the rush. You debate the punishment for stopping me versus the punishment for cumming without permission and know that one is in your future.
I watch you unraveling as I continue edging you. And then I push you over the edge. No warning. Your body tenses and convulses with pleasure and I watch the feelings course through you. And, I continue.
The expression on your face changes immediately. “No,” escapes from your lips followed by you clamping your mouth shut. You know again. You look down at your cock like it is betraying you, muttering, “Go to sleep already.”
I continue with firm strokes and push you to a second O…and grin.