He gives me my instructions: I’m to have my bath, and once I’ve toweled off I’m to get dressed in a tight little T-shirt, a black thong and stilettos. When I’ve readied myself, he orders me into the kitchen and, with firm hands, bends me over the counter. I know he’s intending to fuck me, and I wait, warm, while anticipation clenches in my stomach.
But it turns out to be a false start. So much of this is still new for him too, and this time focusing so much on exercising domliness renders him less than hard, throwing both of us off our game.
He heads to the bedroom, no doubt revising his plan, and I’m to follow. I’m feeling slightly snappish: after my bath I put lotion on my feet as usual, but the order for the stilettos came after the lotion, and I’ve been worrying about the lotion wrecking the shoes, so I ditch the heels. I retire to the bedroom and now spanks are on the menu. Mood or no mood, I’m at least fairly confident that his hand on my ass will get me in a better frame of mind, as well as wet. I can take it a little harder now, and he gets a few nicely stinging ones in.
Once I’m good and warm, and he’s good and hard, the pounding can begin. One: from behind, with my ass in the air, knees together, and chest pushed down into the bed. Two: on my right side with right leg straight down; I start with my left knee lifted a little toward my chest; after a bit I straighten the left leg and hold my ankle up approximating the splits. Three: on my back with my ankles on his shoulders; then I grasp my feet and stretch my legs up straight almost to the wall behind the head of the bed (thanks, yoga); finally I wrap my legs around his hips and draw him into me.
Thinking to encourage him further with a bit of dirty talk, I demand, “Give me that fuck now.” Given the circumstances, it’s a bit redundant, but he manages to give it to me harder. A little too hard, actually.
I rapidly recant: “OK, maybe not quite so much of a fuck!” and we both dissolve into laughter.