And even the simplicity of the act of looking arouses both of us: you for the sight, me for the knowledge that the sight pleases you, arouses you.And even the simplicity of the act of looking arouses both of us: you for the sight, me for the knowledge that the sight pleases you, arouses you. 'Lie down,' you whisper, and I move to the bed. I lie on my back, my eyes never leaving your face, my breathing slow and calm, my soul at peace. You are timid to use your power and you ask me again what is acceptable for you to do, to order me to do. 'Anything,' I say, smiling. 'Anything at all.' You direct, I obey. You tell me first to spread my legs apart and to begin playing with my breasts, to arouse myself slowly, tease and touch and squeeze the breasts and nipples alike. While I do this, you too undress. But your eyes never leave my actions. I notice your growing arousal: your penis begins to stiffen. And I too am growing more aroused as my nipples harden under my own ministrations. Masturbation is lonely, but shared it is ofttimes better than 'sex', and having an audience may make me shy, but somehow it increases the pleasure as well. I tell you these thoughts, and you nod, agreeing. Your next order is no surprise. You tell me to start teasing my now moist vagina. I am allowed only to touch lightly, to skirt, to explore the slowly swelling labia, to tickle the clitoris. Anytime I start to do more you reprimand me, but gently. You start stroking and rubbing your organ and it grows, pushing from the foreskin. |