I'm so wet it's dripped down my thighs. As if he'd been a tease, playing my edge, keeping me overwhelmed and eager.
It's possible that's what he was trying to do, but I doubt it. I think he wanted to fuck me, and the rest was only mildly interesting. He could have taken me to orgasm, but it wasn't on his mind. Then again, my evaluation could be completely unfair. He's hard to read. When I meet his eyes, he smiles a closed-mouth smile that seems reflexive. It doesn't reach his eyes. What goes on in there? Anything?
Earlier in the evening we played a card game involving bluffing. The cards were different verminous creatures: rats, stink bugs, warty toads. "This is an angry cockroach," one might say, passing the next player a card face down. True or false? We tried to guess. I couldn't read him, but he saw through me a good percentage of the time. I haven't practiced bluffing.
I like to be approached with more than confidence. I want a man to be demanding. Tell me what you want from me, and if I agree, take it.
I liked tonight's sensual kisses and tentative caresses, I really did. Since I didn't want to risk fucking without privacy, there was no need for more intensity. I thought about asking for more - oh god I wanted fingers inside me if I couldn't have cock - but I didn't want to get more than I could return. If my orgasm wasn't paramount to him, if sex was to be an exchange of equal pleasures rather than a mutual enjoyment of everything... well, I'm not sure I care to rack up any debts.
And now I'm in bed, still aroused.... time to log off.