“I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready, do you understand?”
He spanks me hard, again and again, alternating cheeks.
“Don’t ever threaten to leave me,” he says leaning down into my ear. I feel tears threaten to break free from the welted feeling on my bottom. He turns me around and shoves me onto the love seat and pulls his pants down, exposing his massive hard-on pointing skyward.
“Suck it the way I like it this time. I don’t want any of that slow shit. I want you to do it rough or I’ll bring you to task again.”
Hell yes, I’ll give him what he wants. I jack him off rough and he moans out his approval. I lick him to get him nice and wet and then go deep. I hear myself groaning from how damned horny I am. I need him inside of me. Doesn’t he know I’m addicted to his touch and his love? I start fingering myself and Dylan pulls away from me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks with a heated look.
Crap. I forgot. I immediately stop, but the damage is already done. All I can do now is apologize.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Dylan steps just out of reach and starts stroking himself, teasing and tormenting me.
“Because you can’t seem to remember the rules, I’ll remind you. Now you can watch me make myself come, but tonight, you’ll go to bed without coming yourself.”
What the Holy bullshit? Is he kidding me? He continues to jerk himself off, grunting and really getting into it.
“Dylan, that’s not fair!” I yell at him. I start to stand but he puts an end to it.
“Sit your ass back down and watch. Do you think it was fair to threaten me to lose you forever? Or fair that you can’t seem to remember a simple rule about not touching yourself until given permission? Did you think about my feelings when you said and did those things?”
His eyes are needy and I can see that I hurt his ego with my lack of self restraint. I guess I didn’t think about his feelings. As much as it pisses me off, I sit back down and decide to take my punishment like a big girl.
Dylan continues stroking himself, his eyes watching me possessively. Good God, he’s beautiful. He has no idea how amazing he looks doing this to himself. Or maybe he does and that’s why he’s teasing me. His movements become more rapid as he moves his hand up and down his long shaft. He cups his balls with his other hand and I feel my face flush with need. I squeeze my thighs together trying to give myself some kind of relief and grind myself into the couch. Dylan’s eyes flick up and down my body as he notes my movements. He hisses through his teeth and moans as he nears his finish.
“Crawl over here and spit on it for me,” he orders.
I eagerly comply. I crawl quickly to him and rise up on my knees and lube him. I sit back on my knees and continue to watch. Being this close to him I can smell his delectable scent. The sloppy sounds of his masturbation and his breathing are sending prickles of desire over my skin and down deep in my belly. I press my thighs together again, trying to satiate my aching need. I close my eyes tightly and imagine Dylan is fucking me hard.
“Open your eyes and watch,” Dylan groans out while tugging my hair.
I open my eyes just in time to see a magnificent stream of his hot come aimed at me. I open my mouth like a hungry bird and drink it up. He rubs his cock all over my face and slaps my cheek with it, for good measure, I guess, and to remind me that he’s still the boss.
“Paint that,” he retorts sarcastically.
Oh, I definitely will, and I’ll make sure it’ll be undeniable that it’s him in the painting. How will he like that? Seeing his big dick being jerked off by his own hand on a wall mural the size of Washington Park for the whole world to see? That’ll be good for his public image, won’t it?
I stand up, wipe my mouth and face and mope into the bathroom. I’m washing my face when Dylan comes walking in. He stands in the doorway watching me, but I won’t look him in the eye. I dry my face and push past him and climb the stairs to the living room with Dylan on my heels. I’m starving and horny as hell. I dig around in the refrigerator and Dylan spins me around to look at him.
“Are you mad at me?”
“Does it really matter? I’m hungry. Now leave me alone,” I pout and turn back around. I find a banana on the counter and take out a bottle of water.
“Of course it matters. I don’t want you to be angry with me. I just don’t appreciate you threatening me and disobeying the rules.”
“You already made your point,” I say with a mouthful of fruit.
“Did I?”
“Oh, for the love of dick, yes. Now leave me alone.”