It’s getting harder and harder to remember the sequence of events – The Pedant and I were romping around for like seven hours and I was running on very little sleep so even at the time things probably seemed a bit blurry.
But I think we got to making out again and The Pedant went all passive with his hands flung up next to his head so I went ahead and clipped the cuffs back onto the headboard. I resumed jerking him off and after a short while he whispered “Mistress…you should restrain my legs.”
Which…huh. I appreciate that he was trying to cater to my dominance, but (as with everything else he does in bed) he didn’t think to ask me how I liked it. I do not like being called “mistress,” I find it jarring for someone to act like I’m their dominant when we haven’t discussed it, and if someone is submitting to me I’m really not keen on them couching what they want as something I “should” do. I would have liked it much better had he simply said “Please restrain my legs.”
I let it pass. I clipped the ankle cuffs back onto the bed and kept jerking him off. For a little while I tried teasing his frenulum with my Hitachi, then jamming the Hitachi hard into his taint. “It’s too much!” The Pedant gasped, so I stopped (see how that works, Pedant? One person gives feedback and the other one listens).
So I went back to regular ol’ handjob stuff. Then I got bored and my fingers were gross and pruney from lube so I said “I want you to jerk off while I watch. Which hand do I need to free?”
After a long pause – shyness? Regaining his composure enough to speak? – The Pedant said “the right.”
I unclipped his right hand and spent a while kissing/groping The Pedant while he touched himself. I wish it were a little brighter in the room so I could have seen him better, but I’d opted not to have the bright, glaring ceiling light on, and the Christmas lights wound around my headboard had burned out a few days before. There was only the light of a single fake battery-powered candle to see by. I could just barely make out The Pedant’s hand moving languorously up and down. He jerks off more slowly and delicately than any guy I’ve ever seen, handling his cock with practically just his fingertips. I’ve only seen him touch himself once before, and not to the point of orgasm, but I’d really love to witness that sometime. When I’m the one jerking him off he has me do it slowly the entire time, up to and including climax. This is completely counterintuitive to me. I think one of the reasons I find it so hot is that it seems more…luxurious. I mean I know it’s just him doing the things he needs to do to get off, but it looks more indulgent then when a guy pounds it like he’s trying to get the chore of masturbation over with as fast as possible.
Annnnyhoo. At length, the sight of The Pedant touching himself (however poorly illuminated) got my motor running and I lay down next to him and hauled out the Hitachi, figuring I could have the kind of stimulation I wanted (instead of The Pedant bludgeoning my junk to death) while gazing upon some delightful eye candy – and maybe The Pedant would even get off, too, without me having to spend more effort on it. Win-win-win.
But I’d barely begun with the Hitachi-ing when The Pedant murmured “You can take me bare if you’d like. I couldn’t say no to you right now…” Meaning I could have condomless sex with him like in the good old days.
To be perfectly honest, although I’d craved this at the start of our little liason, I’d since kind of soured on the idea. The way he’d repeatedly hurt my genitals earlier while trying to get me off didn’t exactly make me feel super-intimate with him, y’know? But I have a bad habit of trying to store up sex the way a solar panel stores up energy – like even if I don’t need the sex now, maybe I could somehow use it later. I know it doesn’t work like that but old habits die hard. And come on, when am I gonna find a younger dude with a vasectomy again? It kinda felt like this would be my last chance.
“Have you had any new partners since me?” I asked.
“Yes, but I always use protection with them. All one of them,” he corrected himself, with a self-deprecating little chuckle.
I paused for a moment, thinking it over. “I want you on top,” I said finally. And I set the Hitachi aside and undid The Pedant from the bedframe.
He got on top and used his hand to fumble himself inside me (I think he maybe wasn’t all the way hard at the moment). He was completely in silhouette from my angle. I wished I could see his face. He began to thrust. By then I was less interested in the penetration itself than in hearing and feeling him come, finally. I mean, I’d been working at getting him off for hours by that point. But really, The Pedant’s orgasms were always my favourite thing about going bareback with him. He always came exponentially faster than he did when we used condoms; it made me feel powerful, irresistible, that that simple touch of skin-on-skin would set him off so fast.
I fingered The Pedant’s nipples as he thrust, trying to overwhelm him with pleasurable sensation. “I’ll come if you keep doing that,” he murmured.
“Gosh, that would be terrible,” I said, smirking.
“I don’t want to come just yet.”
“You want this to last?” It genuinely hadn’t occurred to me that he’d want to drag the process out. I figured three or four hours of buildup would have had him champing at the bit…or too chafed to want to continue for long.
“Yes…I love being your slave like this…”
Oh, is that what he was playing at? That we were having intercourse because I wanted to use his cock for my pleasure? Alright then. I mean he was the one who asked for the sex, but whatever. It felt unnatural to hear him call himself a slave, though. I seriously doubt he was actually thinking of himself as one – just pandering to what he thought I wanted. I appreciated the attempt but the execution fell flat for me.
Incidentally, The Pedant was tossing “I love”s around like confetti all night. “I love being inside you” “I love the way your lips feel on me” “I love being your slave like this” etc. I’m fairly certain he still has feelings for me, and still can’t bring himself to say “I love you” outright, so he gushed about how much he loved the sex we were having, instead. I used to do the same thing with him, back in the day. But I don’t have those burgeoning feelings clamoring to be let out anymore. Even when I was enjoying things the other night, I had no urge to say I loved anything. None at all.
Anyway, The Pedant told me he wanted the sex to last a while because he loved being my slave…and then came literally one thrust later, with a sharp cry and full-body, wracking sob-like convulsions. Seems like he hadn’t wanted to come yet, but was just so turned on that he couldn’t help himself. OMFG hot. So very hot. I do not understand how an apparently pretty powerful orgasm can just sneak up on someone like that, but hot.
I rather enjoy postulating that he came because the idea of being my slave actually turns him on a lot, and verbalizing it set him off. But I don’t actually believe this.