“Oh, baby” I whisper as my hand caresses your face and wipes a bead of sweat off your brow.
I have had you edge for me for a full two hours and you are reduced to a whimpering, chest heaving, panting, moaning and dripping mess. I have lost count of your edges, of how many times you got so close you begged me to allow you to stop, of how often I pushed you just a bit further still until you very nearly spilled. It has been a feast for my eyes.
“Oh baby”, I repeat, “you did so well! I am so proud of you, my good boy! And so aroused. You have no idea how much I desire you right now!”
At those words, you moan that sound of longing frustration I know so well by now.
“I want to feel you tonight” I continue. I want to feel all of that pent up desire of yours. That burning lust. That throbbing, dripping hardness! I want to feel it slide over my smooth skin. I want to feel you push your hips against me. I want to feel you fuck!”
One look at you and I can tell my words have almost the same effect as your stroking earlier.
“Do you want to see it, boy? Do you want to see where I want you to make love to me?”
“Please, Madame! Please, I beg you. Please show me, please let me see!”
My hands close your eyes shut as I change my position.
“Now open your eyes, my boy, and see where I want to feel you now!”
