He called me upstairs; told me to meet him in the bedroom.
First he had me talk dirty to him while stroking his cock, then, pushing my head down, he told me stories:
He is fucking her. I'm under her licking her and licking him as they fuck. In another one I'm tied up in the corner in a chair watching, not allowed to participate. Or we are both kneeling at his feet sucking his cock by turns. Or he's left me at the party to retire to a bedroom with her. I can only imagine what's going on.
With each one of his imaginary scenarios I feel the stab of jealousy or ecstasy or longing, feeling pleasure or pain as he wants me to feel it. The less I am a participant in his fantasy the stabbier the emotional pain gets. I know I can watch him fuck someone else and not be jealous. Been there, done that. But could I watch them cuddle afterward, and not be a part of that, relegated to being furniture in the room, or to only being a clean up service, to see him stroke her and look at her the way he looks at me and still feel happy? Could I see them go off to a room without me and not feel like crying? I don't know.
As I listen to him tell me these things I get more and more aroused. His cock in my mouth is good. I suck hard. He tells me to get on top of him and ride, and as I do he calls out other girls' names, commanding them to fuck him.
How does that make you feel, he asks? I shake my head, squint my eyes down against any tears that want to fall, but I ride like crazy. I'm on the edge of coming. I beg him to let me come. Do you like that story, he asks again, does it make you hot?
"Yes, Master". I do like it. I do want that. I want all of it, the humiliation of hearing all the things he doesn't want to do to me.
This is the opposite of compersion. This is the pricking of jealousies, teasing them apart, picking at them until they are exposed enough to stop responding with anything but simple desire. For some reason it never makes me angry. I don't own him, he owns me. I don't get to tell him what to do, that is the very essence of the fantasy for me. It always makes me hot. Sometimes it edges more toward humiliation, and other times it is just the pleasure of sharing in an experience with a third person together. He takes me emotionally, up, down, all over the place as he desires.
He pinches and smacks me and we come furiously, at the same moment (because he commands me to come as he does), and after a few minutes rest he tells me to suck him again. He gets hard almost immediately and rolls me over to fuck me from behind. Ohhhh that is fucking good fucking.
Mexico! I may get back to blogging eventually, but for now there is laundry to do, food to restock in the kitchen, things to put away......
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