“I was using it on myself, Sir.”
“Not there, you won’t.” He took it from my hand and placed it on the inside of my knee. “You may use it here…” He dragged it up my thigh slowly, but stopped short of brushing against my labia. He changed direction and trailed it over my hip then along the border where my panties would usually fall. “This is fine. But this…”
My body tensed as he placed the tines below my belly button and began to pull them downward. The prongs skated over my mound, through the neat strip of my pubic hair, so, so close…
“But not here.”
I don’t know why I let myself get my hopes up every time.
Still torturing myself with the massager, I watched the screen, fascinated at the reaction that rippled through me as he pushed the dildo slowly inside me. I watched my toes curl, my calves clench, my thighs tighten, and I could almost feel the shocking cold of the glass inside me. The stretch of my muscles flowed with the movement of his arm; shuddering stomach, arching back, rising breasts. My hands had flown above my head, my fingers had kneaded the duvet, and my mouth had frozen wide open in a guttural exclamation of shocked pleasure.
“I will never cease to be amazed at how fucking gorgeous you are on camera,” Neil said, a little breathless. I turned my head slightly. He sat in the armchair, positioned perfectly so he could split his attention between me and the television with minimal effort. He’d unzipped his jeans, and he stroked his huge cock in his fist as he watched the screen.
I agreed with him, totally. The first time we’d made a video, it had been my idea to film it, so it hadn’t made me too nervous at the time. Watching it, though, had been decidedly different. I’d been painfully shy and embarrassed, until I’d seen what I assumed Neil saw, too: a being of pure sex and lust contained in a body made for limitless pleasure.
That’s what he did to me, what he turned me into. Even now, sitting feet away from me with his cock in his hand, he controlled my desire, stoked it hotter with a stern glance. “You aren’t supposed to be looking at me. You’re supposed to be looking at the screen.”
“Yes, Sir.” I turned my attention back to the television.
“You’re supposed to be remembering how that felt,” he went on. “Do you remember how good it was? How it filled you up?”
I moaned. It was a really big toy; I wished I had it, right now. The feathery touches of the massager weren’t enough. “I remember, Sir.”
“How do you feel, now?”
“Frustrated,” I whined.
“Because you want to come?” he asked?
“Because I want you to touch me, Sir,” I told him, not caring if my honesty would earn me a smack on the ass or not. Either way was fine, just as long as he put his hands on me.
“You’ll get what I see fit to give you,” he said, but he rose from where he sat and came to the couch. “Lie back.”
Couch sex wasn’t always the most comfortable, but I was desperate for him and far from complaining.
It seemed to take him forever to undress. I reached up for him as he lowered himself over me. The video on the screen no longer held my attention once his skin met mine, and his cock brushed against my labia. He sank into my cunt so slow and sweet, a ripple of pleasure moved through my body, contracting my muscles in a steady progression.
We moved together at a leisurely pace, feeling every inch of each other. There was no need to rush, no urge to fulfill that couldn’t be met in its own time. I wriggled my hand between us to stroke my clit, bringing myself to a gentle climax that suffused me with warm, loving energy. Neil shuddered above me, riding the last waves of my orgasm to his own release.
Held above me on his elbows, he kissed me, still moving inside me until he couldn’t take any more.
“Oh! The couch!” I gasped as he pulled out, but he scooped up his T-shirt from the floor and slid it under my butt, saving our upholstery from any potential wet spot. He pulled on his jeans and sat at the end of the sofa.
“What was that for?” I stretched happily and put my feet back in his lap.
“Do I need an excuse to fuck my gorgeous wife?” He picked up one of my feet and gently worked his thumbs into the arch.
“Not an excuse, no.” I moaned as he increased the pressure. “I just thought you might not want to, right now. Because…you know.”
He turned off the television with a frown. “Why? Because El-Mudad isn’t here?”