Games are fun to play, aren’t they? For me they are. Especially if they involve anything sexual with Mister.
We spent today lounging around, my friend who had stayed overnight had left us and so it was just the two of us once more. He had recently showered and that always will perk me right up into the naughtier side of things. That fresh smell of washed Man, the wet hair he will possess, coupled with the clean clothes – I don’t know, it just catches me unawares sometimes and I find myself wrapped around him somehow. Hands running all over his body. Treating him like a piece of meat ready to be devoured by the Minx. Can’t help it. He’s irresistible.
Alone again, I drew him to me, kissed his neck and ran my fingers through his damp hair. He told me I was a naughty LadyP to which I promptly asked him what it was, exactly, that made my actions ‘naughty’. I was only loving him, after all. Seems to me to be the most innocent, natural thing for me to do. I pulled him into me as we lay on the bed and touched his chest, bracing my palm against him. Nothing wrong with this at all in my view.
It felt as though it was going to be a long day for me to try and resist him long enough to get anything done without jumping on him.
We went out. Looked around an old castle (very riveting, I hadn’t been since I was a little girl with my older sister and I love old buildings, the architecture and the history). That seemed to occupy my mind for a couple of hours.
We then returned home, watched the last half hour of an old film that was playing on Film4 (The Riddle of the Sands, if curious) before I noticed Mister was looking slightly sleepy. We had had a busy weekend partying (brilliant fun catching up with old friends) and a late, fitful night in which he had woken up far too early for one who was not working the following morning. With complete honesty I told him ‘You need a nap’. Taking both his hands in mine, I gestured for him to follow me to the bedroom. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, to which I simply repeated my last statement. He didn’t need much persuading. He did look tired.
Once there, I cuddled into him as is my custom when wanting to sleep. I noticed he didn’t move much. Almost as if he was thinking intently. Turned out he was.
You want to have sex with me.
What?!
You brought me to bed so that you could have sex with me, didn’t you? It felt like an accusation. Like he had caught me out or something.
No, I honestly think you need a nap, and as I am sleepy too, it’s an excuse to cuddle up to you. I meant it.
You could, you know.
What?
Have sex with me.
I don’t want to. Not now that you will think that I have been plotting to get you into bed.
Silence.
I wouldn’t even want to give you a lazy handjob as you might accuse me of it.
More silence.
You could give me a blowjob?
What? He knows that to order me to do so can sometimes put me right off it. I don’t quite know why.
I wouldn’t want to give you a blowjob for exactly the same reason as the handjob. I could tell that all this talk of sex and getting Mister off was having an effect. The duvet was slightly raised.
What about you give me a blowjob…and tonight I’ll do something extra special for you?
Silence once more.
Like I tie you up. On the bed. Or tie you to the door. He was thinking on his feet.
My breathing noticeably altered at this proposition. It heightened, became shallow in thought and titillation. He did notice.
Like bribery? You would blackmail me into giving you a blowjob? The incredulity was evident in my tone.
Yes.
That is not what giving you a blowjob is about. I protested. It should be about me wanting to give you one, not because you think I was bribed into it. I was getting a little torn at this point. I have been craving him shackle me up lately, but at the cost of letting him think it was as an obligation to him? I was undecided.
You know I would take great pleasure in getting you turned on. I may think about letting you wear your new suspenders. I might even spank you.
Thinking time.
How? I wanted to lead him on a little now, to see what he would give. Just out of curiosity.
With my hand. He noticed the silence. Or maybe something else. The whip if I can find it.
I knew exactly where it was in the cupboard.
You know I would get you so very wet.
He was completely, utterly, hopelessly correct.
I looked up at him from where my head had been resting on him shoulder throughout this whole exchange. I kissed him, saw into his eyes and recognised that look of eagerness. I knew he would stay true to his word. He was desperate for me to go down on him now, his eyes were wanting. That look of tenderness, tinged slightly with the look of the Rogue I love.
That kiss might just as well have been a handshake, for now I sit here, desperate myself for the evening to come so that he, too, will uphold his end of the deal, as I have upheld mine. Valiantly, and with flair, might I add.
