The Dandy and Dandette are still gone so I had The Pedant over last night. It felt less-weird fucking him in the bed I usually share with The Dandy than I’d imagined it would. Or maybe I expected The Pedant to be weird about it and he pretty much wasn’t.
One funny thing: The Dandy is the kind of nerd who owns swords. They’re displayed on a rack on the bedroom wall. The Pedant made a big show of checking them out and was like “Huh, a couple of these aren’t usable.” I said they might not be razor sharp or anything but I think you could still stab someone pretty effectively. The Pedant was like “No, these ones up top are rounded at the end. They’ve been – ” and here he used a technical term I didn’t know and can’t remember. Like it was clear he was trying hard to one-up The Dandy’s knowledge of old weaponry or whatever. So he was all “these sword-blades have been technicaltermed, rendering them unusable.”
“They’re in scabbards,” I said. The Pedant had mistaken the metal sheaths on the swords for the blades themselves. So much for his mighty expertise.
The Pedant continues to be less selfish and more attentive than he used to be, and again I wonder whether someone taught him this or if he’s taking me for granted less now that our relationship is less certain* or what.
When he first arrived, he offered to help me re-shave my head (not unusual for him) and when I was showering the clippings off he came in with me just to help me rinse away the bits that I missed. I don’t recall him doing that before; if he wanted to take a shower anyway he’d come in with me, and sometimes he’d wash me in some capacity, but he’s never come into the shower just for me. What especially struck me about this was that he smiled at me while doing it. He’s always been matter-of-fact before when helping me with my hair but this time any time I accidentally caught his eye he’d beam beatifically at me. It was very sweet.
Eventually I was all shaved and rinsed and dried and we were making out in my bed. I told him the memory of how his mouth feels on me is one of my go-to fantasies and he replied “everything about you is one of mine.” Dammmmn! Upping his dirty talk game like whoa! And to think I used to wonder if he even remembered I existed when we weren’t together. He kept on riffing about me and how awesome our sex is. And it was in the form of “I love -” statements, which I’m fairly sure is how he deflects when he really wants to say “I love you” but can’t because he’s kind of emotionally stunted.
Things progressed to me tying him down and riding him but then just to be a brat I abruptly stopped when he was close to orgasm and insisted he get me off instead. Well, not just to be a brat. He does pass way the fuck out after orgasming usually and so I wanted to make sure I was satisfied first. I had a bit of trouble coming but The Pedant took the Hitachi from me unbidden (which is an interesting coincidence because I had privately decided that I should teach him how to use it on me – I get tired of my sex life basically being wanking in front of guys) and followed my directions reasonably well and just having someone else be the one stimulating my clit was enough to get me going and get me off pretty fast.
Then I rode him some more, trash-talking that I should just leave him tied up and unsatisfied when I went to that evening’s shift and he’d have to wait like a passive piece of fuckmeat for me to come home and use him again. He just about lost his mind at the hotness of that idea (not that I’d do it, and I don’t think he’d genuinely want me to, either). He started begging to come and I was like “Will you be able to go again once I get back from work? Because I’ll want more of you.” He repeatedly, breathily, urgently promised me that if I let him come now he’d still be able to come again later. So I granted permission and KERPOW.
I left him passed out in my bed and went to work. At quitting time he texted me saying to let him know my ETA and he’d be waiting for me in the bedroom, naked except for the restraints. I cheekily asked if he could add “…and holding a sandwich” to that scenario, and told him he’d find gluten-free bread, mayo, prosciutto, cheese, and tomatoes in the fridge. It felt a little daring to do that – I’m only officially his dominant when it comes to sexual stuff, and he doesn’t seem to like doing domestic things too much. But he totally did make me a sandwich and greet me with it, and that was lovely.
The soles of my feet were all black from walking around barefoot during breaks at work (art studios often have charcoal dust on the floor, plus this particular place was just kinda filthy) and The Pedant said I ought to wash the grime off, adding that actually it might be easier to just shower again, and that the hot water might help my back that I’d strained in a long pose, too. I opted to take a hot bath, instead, with Epsom salts. I bade The Pedant come kneel by the tub and wash anyplace I couldn’t reach. I put bubble stuff in the bath as well as the salt, so The Pedant idly scooped up handfuls of suds and rubbed his hands over my arms, belly, and legs while I soaked. Then I had him scrub my back with the loofah. I washed my filthy feet myself, though. 🙂
The hot water had made me itchy, perhaps from drying out my skin, so once I got out and dried off I lay on the bed and asked The Pedant to apply moisturizer to me, and he did, thoroughly, and turned it into a massage. When I asked him to move his massaging efforts from my legs to the soles of my feet, he did – and he listened to instructions and didn’t half-ass it! He mashed the tension out of my soles good and hard until I was a blissful puddle. It didn’t feel perfunctory and he didn’t constantly ask “feeling better?” like he was waiting for his cue to stop. WHAT IS THIS I CAN’T EVEN.
Once I finally felt fed and refreshed and clean and ready for action, what I ended up doing was tying The Pedant to the bed again and giving him a hand job while flexing two of my fingers in his ass. At one point he gave me the heads-up that if I kept going, he’d come. “Do you want to?” I asked. He said no, not yet, if he came he’d pass out and I’d said that I wanted to use him all evening long, so…(!!!!!!!!!)
But TBH my thigh muscles were sore as hell from all the sex and orgasms I’ve been having lately and I was really enjoying doing stuff to The Pedant. Now that I knew he was pretty close to coming, I kept a close eye on his responses and kept on slowly stroking his cock until his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth formed a silent scream and he was literally a breath away from exploding in my hand – and then I’d let go of his cock and just finger his nipples or flutter the fingers that were inside him for a little while. I did this over…and over…and over…and over. I was kind of hoping that if I got him desperate enough, just my fingers in his ass or on his nipples would drive him over the edge, but alas no. He did start whispering “please…please…please…!” as I brought him toward the edge for like the tenth time though (probably sensing that I was absorbed in the hand job and wouldn’t need him to serve me in any other way that night, after all). I murmured, “Yes. Come for me.” And I kept on stroking him and he got really close but seemed to be having a hard time getting over (overstimulated?). I stopped moving my fingers inside him (cutting down on distractions, as it were) and that did the trick. He got all fidgety and pulled against the restraints and then bucked his shoulders off the mattress and howled with release. I resumed fluttering my fingers inside him and kept on steadily stroking his cock and he had like two more big spasms that seemed to take him by surprise and then finally seemed spent.
We didn’t fuck any more the next morning. I think we were both thoroughly used up. But there was cuddling and he ended up coming to work with me and hanging out for a bit (loath, as usual, to leave my side even though he had an errand in the opposite direction from where I was going. At every leg of the journey he’d be like “Well I might as well wait for the bus with you” all nonchalant n shit but then when the bus came he’d just kinda get on it with me for no good reason and still be nonchalant about it…).
But yeah. Good visit.
*I mean, we technically broke up and he calls us FWB now (even though he continues to act as intimate with me as he ever did and TBH I really think we’re dating again and he’s just kidding himself). And I’m less attached to and obsessed with him and I think he can feel that.