At the beginning of that marathon hand job, I tried to move things along for The Pedant by saying hot things in his ear. I started telling him what I’d do to that model I worked with (whom we both find attractive)*. I described the way I’d pin her down using the full weight of my body and then tease her by almost-but-not-quite kissing her until she was begging for it (and I spoke these words with my lips just barely brushing The Pedant’s, to illustrate the kind of teasing I meant). He responded to my narrative with noises, but they felt like acknowledgement noises – the sex-sound equivalent of going “Uh-huh” to encourage someone to continue speaking. He didn’t buck and moan the way he does when I say something that really strikes a chord with him.
And, as you know, later on when he was trying to talk his own way to orgasm, he chose to speak only about the things he and I do together. How much he loves the way I feel and the things we do.
I know it doesn’t necessarily mean that he was feeling so into me at that moment that he couldn’t really think of anyone else. Maybe he’d just rather have heard a story about [model] topping me instead of vice-versa. Maybe he couldn’t get into what I was saying because I’d already told him my attraction to women is extremely fickle and mostly seems to happen during the horndog week of my cycle, which just ended.
But it would be nice if it was the first thing.
(Kinda reminds me of one time with Minx…we’d just had some good sex and were post-coitally snuggling. He had recently told me that he thought he was a switch, so while we snuggled up in our little bubble of bliss and afterglow, I asked him what sorts of dominant things he might want to do – thinking that I might try to indulge him, depending on what he wanted. Minx didn’t realize I was thinking this way, though; he knew I identify solely as dominant. And so he replied “I can’t think about anyone else right now.” D’awwww.)
Another thing about The Pedant’s visit: at one point while riding him I leaned forward and slid one of my hands onto his (up by his head where it was secured) and he immediately meshed our fingers together (which was what I was intending to do, but I was pleasantly surprised that he had the same idea). We stayed like that for a while, fucking while basically holding hands. I only pulled away because leaning forward that much was wreaking hell on my thighs. But it was nice. Sweet. I was hoping to use that hand to sort of pull him through his orgasm the way he almost did on the previous visit, when he was Hitachi-ing me and we were grabbing hold of each other’s wrist like you’d do if you were rescuing someone from falling off a cliff. But of course the orgasm didn’t really happen (jeez, he must’ve felt raw and sore by the time he went home).
That’s all for now.
I see him again the day after tomorrow.
* …Provided we were alone and she was willing and I was having an unusually bi-curious kind of day, obviously.