Every fourth Saturday, I’ll be posting erotica I’ve written, based loosely on my own real life experiences or fantasies, for your wanking enjoyment. If you’ve got any feedback or requests, put ’em in the comments or hit me up on Twitter @KinkyAutistic!
I have this fantasy. It’s vague, and quite possibly not as hot to other people as it is to me.
But it is unbearably hot to me, and follows on nicely from my post about precum, so I’ll try to articulate it for your reading pleasure.
I’m in bed, naked, with a sub. Not just any sub: a sub who is madly, utterly devoted to me. Obsessively so. I’ll probably unpack my stalker kink in another blog post, but I imagine this sub to be so infatuated with me that he steals my clothes to inhale the scent of my body while he touches himself, and hacks my laptop just so he can find out what’s on my birthday wishlist. And this is before we’ve so much as kissed one another. In this fantasy, the sub is lying on his side, facing me, and I’m on my back, gazing at the ceiling. We’re both naked, and under one thin blanket.
He isn’t touching me – he doesn’t dare. But he stares at me, and sometimes his hands twitch like he wants to reach out and stroke my skin. I’m just looking at the ceiling, sometimes stealing a glance at him out of the corner of my eye, absorbing his unwavering adoration. But my attention span proves much shorter than his, so I end up shifting onto my side, facing him, our bodies not touching but only inches away from it.
I can see him internally freaking out about the fact that now I’m facing him. He’s trying to look calm but his eyes are wider and he’s swallowing every few seconds, and I notice his eyes drifting down to my cleavage more than once.
“You can look,” I tell him, and I fold the blanket back so it’s doubled up over him and I’m completely without cover. He’s seen photos of me naked (they’re all over Twitter), but this is the first time he’s laid eyes on my naked body in real life, right in front of him.
He swallows again, so forcefully I can hear it. “You…” he whispers hoarsely, and I wait patiently for him to find the words, barely suppressing a grin. “You’re fucking radiant.”
“Language!” I scold him playfully, and I reach over and flick him, hard, with my middle finger, right under his collarbone. A noise escapes him and I can’t tell whether it’s a moan or not. I run my fingernail along his collarbone and towards his throat, watching his face the whole time. In spite of my nudity, his eyes are fixed on my face. I think briefly about putting my hand around his throat, but we haven’t talked about boundaries or limits and I’m too fond of him to make him genuinely uncomfortable (though I have no doubt he’d endure anything I chose to put him through).
He nibbles at his lip when my fingernail reaches his throat. It’s hot, but I won’t tell him that. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers. I let my fingernail run down his chest, right between his nipples. “W-what…?”
“What am I doing?” I supply, letting myself smirk now. “It’s called foreplay. I thought the nakedness made it obvious.”
“I thought… you said…”
Ah, yes. Within this fantasy, I have at some point said that I can’t possibly fuck this guy, and he’s taken it very politely and never mentioned it again. The reason I give for not fucking him is incidental; the real reason is simply that keeping him waiting is too delicious to waste.
“Well, we’re not fucking, are we?” I point out, inching a little closer to him, but maintaining the gap between our bodies still. “I’m just poking at you a bit, really. Seeing what noises you’ll make…” And to illustrate my point, I pinch one of his nipples gently between my thumb and forefinger, and hold it until he whimpers.
“That’s… that’s okay, then.”
I pull closer still, and let one of my feet brush one of his. “I’m glad,” I say softly, and I mean it. Gazing into his big, hungry eyes, I feel myself melt a little inside. He’s so precious, and so desperate, and he only wants to do right by me. “There’s a lot of things that aren’t fucking, you know.”
As an example, I press my lips very softly against his.
He twitches, and I just know it’s taking all his might not to press his lips hard against mine, grab at me, run his tongue down my neck… I know exactly what he wants to do to me, but he lays very still and lets me place a tiny, gentle kiss on his lips.
I pull back a little to look at him. He’s somewhere between dazed and pained. I almost, almost want to put him out of his misery, and tell him that we can, in fact, fuck, and that I very dearly want us to. Almost.
Instead, I finally close the gap between us, laying an arm over his waist and pressing my chest against his, and I say, in a low voice, “I really rather like you.”
He stays still, letting me take the lead on every step. “I like you too.” We both know what an understatement it is.
We also both know that his rock-solid cock is poking me in the thigh.
A little bit of creative wriggling on my part places it between my thighs, right at the top, with the head of it nestled against my vulva. I’m soaking wet, and I know he notices. He looks like he’s about to say something.
“It’s not fucking,” I remind him quietly, “so it’s fine.”
I kiss him again before he can speak, and his cock twitches against my cunt. I smirk against his mouth and suck on his lower lip, then bite down on it. He makes the most delightful high-pitched noise, and his cock twitches again. Then, so do his hips.
I keep kissing him, and I slide my hand down to squeeze his arse. I use his arse cheek as a handle to pull him closer, then further away. Closer, then further away. As I brush my tongue against his, I’m encouraging him to rub his cock on the hot, slick outside of my cunt, his precum lubricating my inner thighs.
His timidity is wearing off now; he caresses my face with one hand and holds one of my boobs in the other. He moans against my mouth as I bite his lip again, and I don’t have to guide his arse any more – his hips are grinding, and he’s spreading his precum and my wetness all over my inner thighs, so close to and yet so far from being inside me.
I reach up and grab a fistful of hair, twisting it a little while continuing to kiss him. He whimpers, and the movement of his hips gets more and more jagged. I know what’s about to happen, but I pretend I don’t.
His fingernails dig a little into my boob, and he makes some noises that sound like he might want to talk, but I keep kissing him, knowing he’d call “Red” if it was urgent. I pull as hard on his hair as I dare to – I wouldn’t want to rip any of it out – and my cunt aches with desire as he rubs his throbbing cock against it.
He goes rigid, and quiet, and I press my thighs a little closer together as he shoots hot, thick cum all over my pussy, his tongue still resting in my mouth. I pull my head back a little and see that he’s pink, with his forehead dotted with sweat and a look of pure bliss on his face.
“It’s still not fucking,” I say quietly, “but you have made an awful mess. I think you could lick it up…”