“This is going to be a little bit of a different approach,” she says, sitting me down in the chair. She kneels on the floor in front of me, then spins slightly to grab a glass of wine off the table and turn back toward me.
I smile, then frown exaggeratedly when I realize the wine is for her, not me. “Silly. This is for me. I’m going to enjoy this.” She sips the wine again, then looks at me. Without breaking the look, she tells me what’s up, finally.
“I am going to watch. Up close and personal. You’ll stop when I say. Go when I say go, all of that. I’m here only to observe. Oh, and of course control,” she says.
I do, and she sits there, alternating between the action and my eyes. Those two things are 100% her attention. Of course there is this build up time, this extraordinarily awkward time where the animal mode isn’t there, and she’s watching. Looking.
I change a bit, squeezing for a tighter grip, praying that things move along quickly. I am over the top self-conscious about the fact that she’s just sitting there, like watching a movie. I don’t like this. I mean, sure, I like this, but I don’t like doing this. I’m not an exhibitionist by default nature. Add to that the up close and personal of her… right… there. And the whole casual observer thing that’s going on with the glass of wine and what-not.
That first flash of feeling floods through me and escapes. I feel it start at my hand, run through me like electricity and out through the top of my head. I close my eyes to wallow in it a bit, to try to get it to keep going. Get this over with.
As soon as my eyes close – the very instant. I hear a small slurp, then “open your eyes,” and a small snicker. I do, and her eyes are locked with mine, even as she has a further sip.
I keep going, looking for more of those surges. More of the flashes of animal. They start to come, more and more frequently now. More and more “loudly” in my mind. Every single time, she somehow knows and now she’s preemptively looking at me, telling me “don’t you dare look away from my eyes…“
It’s like she’s reaching inside of me, twiddling with those feelings now, all through her eyes to mine. It’s only broken by her almost comical breaks for wine sips and to watch me. Watch me move my hand just so. Watch me speed up, slow down.
In my head, I’m starting to make assumptions. I’m making assumptions about her plans, about what happens next here. I’m making assumptions that I need to make a run for the magical cliff.
Wave after wave is zipping through me now, I feel every single cm of my cock as it rides back and forth in my hand. I am slowing, then speeding up, but mostly slowing and making sure I’m traveling every bit up and down, pressing against my body on the downside, teasing the head of my cock on the upside….
I’m running toward the orgasm. Almost making a break for it.
Of course, she knows this. “Stop. Now.”
I do, throbbing. Yelling, pulling myself back into the chair as if I can pull away from the unauthorized orgasm. Somehow, it works. A few more twitches and, in the middle of the twitch, she sips, then tells me “Restart. Now. Right now.”
I haven’t even come down from the edge. I’m convinced it’ll be about 1, 2 and done… but somehow it doesn’t happen.
“Goooooood boy,” she tells me. “That’s right.”
I am speeding up now. I sense the animal taking over. I feel it almost like the devil on the shoulder thing. “Just do it.”
I get just to the edge again. Again she stops me. She doesn’t even give me time to come down this time – it must be a count of only 3 or so, then “Restart. Now. Right now.”
I last about 15 seconds. She stops me again. And again. And again.
I’m gasping. Sweating. She’s calm, enjoying her wine.
I do. I get to the edge, expecting you to stop me once again. “Ruin it. Now.“
“Go,” she says. “Now.”
I look at her with panic in my eyes. I know how dangerous this is. If she deems it not enough, there’s trouble. If it goes too far, there’s trouble. My animal brain is screaming in my ear now.
I run up to that edge, then continue on, just a few…more…
…and pull my hand away.
Then a dribbling, frustrating, aggravating ruined orgasm. She waits about 10 seconds this time…
“Again. Ruin another.”
I literally groan-gasp – I should know better now. I do. Somehow. I pull it off, getting to a second ruined. It takes longer to come this time, about 4-5 seconds after I’ve stopped. I completely think I’ve screwed it up and not gone far enough.
I look at her, she makes this little air kiss and finishes the glass of wine. She leans in and kisses the tip, telling me “Thank you, you’ll need ice. Cage please.”