Pedant time.

The Pedant crashed here the other night. This was a convenience thing: I live closer to his work than he does, and he had a late shift and an early shift in a row.

I had texted him to ask if he wanted to stay over on Friday night for fun (early shift that day for him, late shift the next day) but also said he was welcome to “stay over on Thursday unmolested.” He said yes to Thursday but didn’t mention the other part at all. Disappointing but oh well.

Unfortunately, by Thursday I was kinda dying to fuck him. But I didn’t want to make any moves because that was not the nature of our deal. I want him to feel safe here. Really, I figured even asking him “Hey, how ’bout a quickie?” would make him roll his eyes and feel like he can’t ever be here without me being all over him, or like I can’t ever have him over without having an ulterior motive, or something.

I sure was hoping he’d end up initiating something, though. And if he didn’t I figured I’d probably sleep on the couch because being in the same bed with him would make me insane.

He arrived at like 10:30 and let himself in with his keys. I was lying naked on the couch, both because I’m usually naked at home anyway and because I was sorta hoping to entice him. The Pedant did his usual thing of methodically undressing while chatting about his day. I didn’t feel any sexual tension radiating from him, but perhaps that’s only because I was watching him from a bit of a distance? But I know he’s somewhat able to turn it on and off and be “all business” when he needs to be, so…meh.

Once he’d gotten down to just his boxer briefs, he paused in the undressing process. For like, a really long time. And just chatted with me, standing there in my hallway. Possibly he’d gotten distracted by the talking and just forgotten to keep undressing for a bit, as he sometimes does. But I think it’s more likely he was planning to leave his underwear on as a clear boundary – a barrier to me touching him. He did need to get up for work in about seven hours, after all.

So okay, fair enough. I would refrain from sexual stuff. But damned if I would deny myself the comfort of being in his arms. I’d had a really rough week and his hugs are quite marvelous at melting away my stress.

I got up from the couch, then, and strode over and put my arms around him and kissed him hello on the cheek. Not in a particularly seductive way or anything. But he did the sharp-intake-of-breath thing that he always does these days when he knows we’re going to fuck. Like he’s so supercharged with sexual tension that the slightest touch melts him completely. It was that fast; my lips touched his cheek and I had him, just like that.

And it’s such a total, delicious power trip that I can do that to him that I can never resist taking it further. I kissed his cheek again, glided my lips down his skin and kissed his neck, caressed his back with my hands. And his arms went slack and he moaned and whimpered and the front of his boxers was tented out and he was just gloriously, beautifully helpless.

But I’d told him that he could stay here “unmolested” and as much as he seemed to be interested in sex at that moment, I kind of needed to hear him say it.I wanted his consent to be even more explicit. “Tell me what you want,” I murmured. I continued running my hands lightly over his back, his stomach, his arms. I would not touch his nipples or cock; that would be too definite a sexual overture. I would await permission for that. In the meantime, I simply petted the somewhat less erogenous areas of his body, and waited. But he didn’t say anything, either because he didn’t get what I was driving at or because I’d driven the capacity for English out of his head, or both.

“I promised you that I would let you sleep tonight. So if you want me to fuck you, you need to ask me,” I said, gliding my fingers over his shoulderblades.

He remained silent for a while, except for all the gasping and shuddering at my touch. Finally he put his lips to my ear and whispered “I want you to spread-eagle me on your bed and run me through your hands like you did last time.* And I want you to slip a toy inside me because I know how much you love to see that.**”

It occurred to me then, for the first time, that The Pedant has never (I’m pretty sure) used the word “fucking” in regards to us (“play” is the word he uses). Interesting. Usually I’m prissier about words, sexually, than my partners are. The word “pussy” makes me cringe. In the past, a partner referring to fucking me did, too, although at some point I got over that. I’ve never been the partner with the more offensive mouth before. I hope The Pedant isn’t put off by it.

We made out in my hallway for a while longer and then I backed him into the bedroom and closed the door and we kept going. I allowed myself to touch him everywhere now, having gotten permission to do sexual things to him, and the way I fingered his nipples was making him swoon so hard that he reached out blindly and gripped the edge of one of my dressers for support. I pulled his boxers down and let them fall to his ankles. I stroked his pretty, pretty cock and caught his moans with my mouth.

And then I circled behind him, holding his shoulder in my hand to indicate that he was to stay where he was. I sat on the edge of the bed so I could get a front-row view of his beautiful round ass. I cupped it, ran my hands over it…ran my finger lightly up the centre cleft, making him swoon again and lean forward to grasp the edge of my taller dresser with both hands. He gave a tiny little gasp of anticipation when he heard me open the drawer of the nightstand. I retrieved a glove, lube, and my stainless steel plug. I tapped one of his ankles and he stepped that foot out of his boxers that had been shackling his ankles together. I kicked his legs further apart and he gasped.

My intention was to put a finger or two inside him for a few minutes to open him up enough for the plug, but his sounds were so intriguingly strong that I ended up giving him possibly the longest prostate massage I’ve ever given anyone. At times he seemed very much like he was about to come – whimpering urgently and clamping down hard on my finger – and I just had to see if he would. Making a guy come that way has been a fantasy of mine for such a long time. I must have spent at least fifteen minutes just moving my finger in different ways while my free hand tickled the backs of his knees (an erogenous zone of his I’ve discovered relatively recently) or reached around to lightly fondle his nipples or cock. I brought him to the edge of coming (if that’s what it was) three or four times via prostate stimulation alone (I always took my other hand off his cock when his sounds began to peak; if he was going to come I wanted it to be unequivocally from my internal ministrations), and then I decided it probably wasn’t going to happen and I progressed to lubing up the steel plug and sliding it inside him.

Hilariously, a minute later when I turned him around with the intention of having him lie on the bed, the plug thumped to the floor. “Too much lube, maybe?” The Pedant said.

“Maybe. Would you like me to wash it off and try again, or do you want me to move on to other activities?”

“I’d like you to wash it off and try again,” The Pedant said, his voice all dazed and breathy. “I know how much you love to see me with a toy inside me.”

I went and washed the floor-grit etc. off the plug and when I got back into the bedroom The Pedant was waiting on the bed on his hands and knees, presenting his ass to me. He seems somewhat preoccupied with me doing ass stuff to him from behind. I’ve done ass stuff to him face-to-face tons of times so I know he knows it’s not mandatory that I be behind him. I’m super curious what his preoccupation is. Does he fetishize the position itself for whatever reason? Or maybe he still feels conflicted about how much he loves being penetrated and he prefers that I can’t see his face? Maybe the angle is just easier? I don’t know, and if he is conflicted then I maybe don’t wanna stir that all up by asking him.

My preference is generally face-to-face, and indeed I’d been going to have him lie on his back to receive the plug a second time, but he was already on all fours and actually that would probably help me insert it easier so I just went with it. Everyone else I’ve ever been inside has had an asshole that felt like a raised pucker – like the ring of muscle around that back door actually sticks out. I have it, too. The Pedant – although his ass is super crazy tight – does not. His ass-crack is just all one smooth level. I always have to run my finger along the bottom of his crack and probe until I find the spot that yields more. With him presenting himself to me like this I could actually pull his cheeks apart and get a clear view (well, as clear as is possible with the amount of fur coverage he has) so that’s what I did to get the tip of the plug positioned again. Once it was back inside him I had him flip onto his back for me.

I intended on giving him the tied-up hand job he’d requested; I really did. He craved it and I like doing it so why not? But I also craved his cock inside me, so I figured I’d do that for a little while first. I retrieved the wrist restraints and laid them beside us while we made out some more. “Touch me while you still have the use of your hands,” I said, and he instantly began caressing my back.

He kept asking “you love having me as your slave like this, don’t you?” and similar. Obviously I said that I did, but this sort questioning during sex is such a frequent thing for him that I wonder whether it’s dirty talk or a genuine request for validation. Can it be that he’s so used to the social paradigm of women wanting dominant men that he still needs to hear from me that I prefer him underneath me and obeying me? Is me being ravenous and sopping wet and occasionally making a tiny involuntary squeaking noise at the sight of him in a collar or restraints not enough to reassure him?

I’d already been straddling him in order to kiss him and receive his back-pettings, but when I aligned our crotches and started fumbling between us for his cock he made that flurry of anticipatory whimpers that I love so much. Fuck the wrist restraints. They take too long. I sheathed The Pedant’s cock inside me and forced his wrists down into the pillow with my hands.

“You love this, don’t you?” he asked, yet again. “You love it when I serve you like this.”

I was sick of saying “yes” to this repeated question so I just kind of made a guttural noise by way of response – but a minute later I whispered “mine” and he got all gaspy, which he never used to do and which I absolutely loved. And a moment after that when I called him my good boy he gasped again.

I don’t think it’ll ever stop amazing me how much he seems to love being inside me. With most other guys it’s seemed like it felt pretty good to them but was more of a means to an end – a sensation that would eventually trigger orgasm and that was the thing they were pursuing. With The Pedant – not always, but for the past few months anyway, maybe because he feels secure in the relationship and can really let go – he writhes and moans and tosses his head around the way most guys would right before coming, except The Pedant is all ecstatic like that the entire time, basically from the moment I put him inside me. I’ve kept him in that state before for like ten solid minutes. I may try for longer at some point but I worry he’ll get overstimulated and the whole encounter will just kinda fall flat.

By the way, The Pedant makes eye contact more often these days, when his eyes aren’t fluttering back in his head. πŸ˜€ And when we make eye contact he doesn’t shy away or seem embarrassed, except maybe just after he’s come.

So pretty much as soon as he reached that state of complete eye-fluttering helplessness I knew I wasn’t gonna stop the action and switch to a hand job. Being able to look right into his face while he totally lost it was just too good.

I got into an erratic pattern of thrusting slowly and deliberately for a while and then randomly pulling back just long enough to make him keen in frustration. You’d think his heart was breaking from not being all the way inside me, the way he carries on. I love it. I wanted my hands free to touch his face or stimulate his nipples, so I released his wrists; kind of flung his wrists at me, actually, and he intuited that I wanted him to wrap his hands around my hips, and he did.

During about the fourth or fifth time that I pulled back and paused with just the head of The Pedant’s cock inside me, he was sort of trying to pull my hips back down but couldn’t and finally he whispered “please…” with his lips so close to mine that I could almost feel him form the word.

“Yes,” I whispered back, and slid back down around him in one hard, swooping arc that made him cry out. Then I resumed my slow and deliberate thrusts, regular as a metronome, and as The Pedant began to come he pulled my hips down again to try to still them but his arm muscles couldn’t compete with the strength and intention of my entire lower body and I still managed to undulate on him slowly and milk out every last drop and every last sobbing sound he had in him. I’m glad he told me that he sometimes fears the intensity of his own climaxes and tries to shy away. It’s fun to watch him have that moment of panic. It’s fun to force him through it and out the other side. πŸ˜€

And in the wake of his orgasm, as I gazed down into his flushed face, he finally became self-conscious (or could it simply have been affection?) and pulled my head down into the crook of his neck.

At length he released me and I sat up, reached for my dildo, and placed it on his chest: “I require more fucking.”

So he dildo-fucked me while I got myself off with the Hitachi, twice.

And then we slept surprisingly badly and he went to work and (later) so did I.

I texted him from work saying I was really glad he was up for some play the night before and I looked forward to ravaging him again sometime when we didn’t have any time constraints. He replied “In the meantime, would you like to see the new Ghostbusters movie with me?”

Hell yeah I did! I asked when he had in mind and he said “I’m off at 4pm.” OMG he meant later that day! Honestly the sex alone has left me quite content but the fact that he wanted to spend more time with me (on the Friday night that he originally seemed not to want to spend with me, no less), and that I’d get to see a movie (which I never do of my own accord anymore because budget constraints), thrilled me to pieces.

The movie was good and he spent most of it snuggled up to me. And then he took me out to sushi. So basically, best day evaaaarrrrr. πŸ˜€ After that he went home, I assume because he’d feel more rested for work the next day if he slept in his own bed.

Although, today when I said that it had been lovely to get out with him, he replied that it had cost him: he got home late enough that he ended up sleeping through his alarm and having to take a cab to work and was tired all day. He always seems to make a huge point of telling me when his time with me impacts other areas of his life, and I don’t understand if it’s meant as a guilt trip or an obscure bid to win my admiration by telling me about all the sacrifices he’s made for me. It’s especially irritating because it’s never me suggesting that we stay up so late. He was the one who suggested we get food after the movie. One day I’ll ask him why he seems to rub my face in it when being with me “makes” him late for work, but gahhhh so awkward.

 

*I didn’t chronicle his last visit but yeah, there was an epic hand job.

**The Pedant almost always couches anal play as something he’s doing for me. So far I’ve managed to bite my tongue and pretend to believe him. But yeeeeah he is totally a rampant anal slut at this point and it is not – or at least not entirely – for my benefit.

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