When The Pedant and I got home, he immediately got naked, as usual, to avoid cat-furring his clothes. For some reason I was feeling reticent with him; I wanted to kiss and touch him but I dunno, it felt awkward. But also, kissing might have put a whole huge sexathon in motion and I was too full from dinner to be that active. I suggested we watch something to give our food a chance to digest, and he proposed an episode or two of Sherlock (he’d put the series on my laptop before).
So we lay side by side on my bed, up against each other but not otherwise touching, and watched Sherlock on my laptop. Incidentally, the episode we watched had Sherlock meeting a dominatrix. She took one look at him and said “Look at those cheekbones. I could cut my hand slapping that face” and I made an involuntary rawwwr sound as my toes curled. 😀 Also, it had a few really unreasonable plot elements; it seems to me that Sherlock makes immediate hard-and-fast deductions from clues that could actually mean a number of different things, and yet he’s never shown to be wrong. He’ll see white hairs on someone’s pant leg, for instance, and instantly infer that the person owns a dog – even though a person could get hairs on their clothes from owning a cat, or from visiting a friend who owns a dog or cat. I always bitch about this crap and The Pedant for some reason always tries to defend the show – although this time the plot hole was particularly egregious so I kept arguing and he eventually conceded my point.
When that episode was done, The Pedant asked if I wanted to watch another. I said “in a while” and started making out with him. 😀
Initially, I’d had the idea that I would shake up our usual routine of me getting on top of him and doing all the work; I was going to remain next to him or even pull him on top of me, and get him to make me come before he had his turn. But either he’s too used to our usual routine or our dynamic just really works best when I top him, because lying next to him just felt wrong and I quickly caved in and straddled him.
Things escalated fairly quickly. I do love how quickly he gets into a sexual headspace. If we’re just lying around watching DVDs, I can brush my thumb over one of his nipples and it does nothing; if I kiss him for thirty seconds and then touch his nipples, suddenly he’s moaning and squirming and erect. Or maybe it’s not just the kissing that gets him into the headspace, but the topping – perhaps that’s why side-by-side makeouts kind of fell flat.
The details are already getting a bit cloudy on me but I think I got up to go to the bathroom and when I came back and approached the bed, he reached out and stroked the backs of my legs. I know I got up for some reason…at any rate I ended up sort of lying across him on my belly with my toes still on the floor. I told him, “I’m going to be tying you down later but until then, I want to take advantage of the fact that your hands are free.” And he kept stroking my legs until the position I was in started to feel irritating and I climbed up to straddle him again. Even then, as we continued kissing, he stroked my back and ribcage and the outsides of my bent legs. I don’t know why it never occurs to him to stroke my feet; I’ve asked him for this several times before and he’s seen how crazy it made me when he did it. I had to pointedly say “Can you reach my feet from there?” to get him to touch them.
The Pedant is hilariously bad at multitasking, though; I dislike giving and receiving pleasure at the same time (I’d rather focus on one or the other) but I can do it, most of the time. Whereas any time I touched The Pedant, his arms would fall to his sides as though I’d pushed a button. I didn’t mind; when I stopped touching him, he’d start touching me again.
I chickened out of asking him to make me come first. We were in a groove and I’d gotten really turned on so meh, good enough. I got out the restraints, secured The Pedant’s wrists and ankles to the bedframe (pausing to admire how good he looked, spread out before me like a buffet) and, as usual, began slowly lavishing attention on his mouth, nipples, and cock in random order until he was practically sobbing and we were both in a kind of trance.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I put a condom on him and climbed aboard – once again, no lube required*. His vocalizations alone had gotten me drenched. I have no idea how long I was fucking him before I decided I needed to come. I made a cursory attempt at using the Hitachi while I was still astride The Pedant, but nope, my orgasmic response has been kind of a bastard lately – any deviation from my usual routine of being on my back with my legs out straight seems to confound it. So I ended up tossing a pillow against the footboard and lying back with my legs stretched over The Pedant’s spread thighs. I came twice, harder than I expected to, and lay there giggling and catching my breath for a short while before I got it together enough to attend to The Pedant again.
He’d gone soft**, but a little hand-work fixed that quickly enough and then I resumed fucking him for, god, I don’t know how long. It felt like forever, though, and despite me giving it everything I had (using my mouth and both hands simultaneously to stimulate every sweet spot of his that I know while continuing to thrust up and down) it didn’t seem like he was anywhere close to coming.
I don’t think The Pedant understands that once I’ve orgasmed, anything sexual that we do is for his sake, not mine. It’s an awkward thing because I think any indication that I’m bored and wish he’d just come already would probably put him on the spot and make it even more difficult for him, but what if he’s holding off on purpose somehow because he thinks I’m enjoying myself?***
I murmured in his ear, “I want to feel you come. Can you do that for me?” hoping he’d a) get the message that he didn’t need to hold back on my account and b) take the opportunity to say “Nope, I don’t think I actually can” if he was having an off day. But nope, he didn’t react to my statement whatsoever…I kept sexing him and he kept seeming like he was nowhere close to finished.
I asked “would you like me to keep doing this, or shall I use my hands instead?” no response – either he couldn’t decide or (as usual) the sex had made him go all nonverbal and he was having a hard time stringing sentences together. I waited a minute or two and then prompted him by saying, “Tell me what you want.” After a brief struggle to form words, The Pedant managed to whisper, “I want your lips on my nipples again.” Fuck, it is so hot when he uses his words. I’m pretty sure I clenched around his cock involuntarily.
Interesting, too, that he used the word “lips” instead of “tongue.” Just as an experiment, I tried kissing his nipples instead of licking them as I usually do; I think the kisses actually got a stronger reaction, even though it seems like it would not be as stimulating. Fascinating. And I’m not sure but I think he was trying to moan affirmative “mmm-hmm” noises at me to let me know I was hitting the spot – but he could barely manage it because I had him in such a frenzy so it was as though his regular moans has a tiny, stuttering echo. Hawt.
Now, please bear in mind that I was still fucking The Pedant as I mouthed his nipples, and that we are the same height. My spine was crunched into a boomerang shape and my thighs were killing me from supporting all my weight on them for most of the night, while leaning forward and thrusting hard, no less – I rarely supported any of my weight on my arms, choosing instead to use my hands to grab The Pedant’s throat, stimulate both of his nipples at once as I kissed him, etc. It was a pretty gruelling workout.
Eventually, I got a weird feeling we might be having a condom mishap and reached back to check; sure enough, it had begun to roll up/off to a point where I couldn’t find the rim, and when I dismounted the condom remained hanging out of me. I pulled it out and took that opportunity to stop the sex and administer a hand job instead.
My hand (and more nipple stimulation with my mouth and other hand) got The Pedant off comparatively quickly, and remember how he told me he likes to be tied up so he can’t shy away when stimulation gets too intense? That seems like it may be true. As he approached orgasm he suddenly started struggling against the restraints, cringing his hips backward and trying futilely to bring his spread legs together (“No. You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you,” I murmured in his ear as I continued pistoning my hand on his cock.). He seemed so desperate, so panicked – I would have been alarmed, had he not previously told me that this is his reaction to intense pleasure. As it was, his desperation totally turned me on.
And finally he climaxed, pumping out what felt like a gallon of come and making the most lovely, tortured sounds. I kept on moving my hand on his now-extremely-slippery fading erection (and telling him he was at my mercy) past the point when I usually would – through his orgasm and beyond, slowly tapering off only as his breathing began to settle. I wanted to make sure I’d milked out everything he had.
I went and washed my hands, leaving The Pedant tied down. Then I came back with some tissue and swabbed his cock and belly with it, although there was barely anything there; most of the mess had ended up on the webbing between my thumb and index finger.
Ever since he softly asked to hold me that one time, I’ve held off on untying The Pedant after sex in hopes that he’ll be that adorable and vulnerable again. Sadly, all he ever says anymore is “You should probably let me out now.” Feh.
Once I let him out, The Pedant snuggled up to my side and put his head in the hollow of my shoulder – the way you usually see a woman cuddle up to a man – and instantly fell asleep. I can’t really fall asleep on my back, but I loved the reversal of gender roles so much that I stayed like that for a long while, anyway, petting his shoulder and hair and feeling his head vibrate against my cheek as he ground his teeth in his sleep. Even once I shifted position, he shifted too so that he was still holding me – and at one point when I went to shift again, he clamped his arms around me so I couldn’t. It was so flattering that I didn’t bother to struggle…but my sleep that night wasn’t too great. 😛
*How did it take me so long to realize Minx and I weren’t sexually compatible? With him – at least near the end – I had to use lube every. Time. I’d attributed this to my body and responses changing with age, which is not a crazy theory. But the fact that sex with him felt like a chore should’ve tipped me off.
**I’m not super offended by him having gone flaccid, but I will say I prefer it when my orgasms keep a guy physically turned on. Minx and I had all kinds of sexual issues but he did get and keep a raging hardon just from going down on me, which I loved.
***I wasn’t not enjoying myself, exactly. His cock isn’t big enough to hurt me, and I like making him moan. But the thrusting gets tiring and the whole thing starts seeming a bit repetitive once the edge is off my arousal.