Playing fair. Sort of.

I want someone watching me while I thrash about with a vibrator between my legs, but not allowed to join in. I want him to see what I’m capable of without his input; I want my pleasure and occasional frustration and orgasm to turn him on to a painful degree. Whenever I open my eyes, I can see him clearly struggling with my command, his expression a combination of agony, passion and glee.

But then I want him to take over. He’s not allowed to play himself, but he does get to get a little of his own back. He doesn’t suffer from failing coordination as my orgasm approaches, so he can be ruthless – or cruel and teasing – and keep me guessing, and coming. And coming. And coming until I’m crying, laughing and almost blacking out from the sheer intensity.


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