The Story Continues…

From SteelChrmr’s post:

It’s very quiet over here, like I am home alone. But I’m not. The lights are off and it’s dark but I can sense you. In the dark. Waiting. Watching.

I fumble for the light switch by the door. “No,” comes from somewhere in front of me. I hear a noise slightly to my left. I turn, unsure of where you are or what I’m hearing until I see the bright flame…

I see the silhouette of your body in the faintest of the light as my eyes adjust. You’re in the tub, lounging, and I can’t even see enough to know if you’re smiling. I can just make out the outline of your breast in the candlelight.

“Stand there” you say as your hand passes by the light, pointing.

You’d warned me earlier that you had plans for me, that you expected a bit of a performance this evening…

I move to where you’re pointing, just inside your reach and you reach up and softly run your fingers over me, then clutch and lightly at first, squeeze me.

In just a matter of seconds, I’m rock hard for you. You dip your hand back in the tub, getting a bit of water, then reach up and stroke me in this maddening, slow stroke that runs the full length of me.

I start to say something to break the silence, to help stop my mind, to distract myself. As soon as I start to say anything at all, you shut me down with “shhhhh…. ” and stop stroking, gripping me harder until you’re sure I’m done speaking.

You alternate between stroking, playing with the PA and holding on firmly at the base, driving me to somehow get harder and harder for you. I can see the veins now, I can feel the urgency build in me on the strokes, then yell for relief when you pause.

You move the candle a bit, sitting up in the tub on your knees and leaning in. You take me in your mouth and move at a somehow even slower, maddening pace, while with your hand you are running between rubbing my chest and squeezing my balls.

As you begin to speed up just a bit, you can tell my demeanor is changing. That animal side is making its appearance. You know you have me.

At the same time, I start to give in to all of the electricity. I can feel your lips moving over every bit of me. I feel your nails running softly, but clearly up and down me, my shaft, my chest. I feel you run your hands over my nipples, pinching, then squeezing me below to get my attention back to reality.

Speeding up another notch, you bring your hand to me, supplementing your mouth, running up and down me in a constant pace. Every time your tongue passes my ring, I feel an additional jolt run through me, on the inside though.

I can barely stand.

You pull back on your knees just a bit and start alternating between feverishly crazy fast strokes and slow, insane, mind-blowing firm strokes.

My eyes closed long ago, trying to maintain my balance, arms behind my back, trying to sink my mind into any last semblance of control. Of course you’re always out to take that away. To do with it as you please.

You stop, tell me to keep up the pace for you… I just about explode with frustration… growling a bit at you. But I do as you say, looking for approval and to make sure I’m putting on a good show for you. I see your face just a bit now in the candle and I can see the grin.

I hear a bit of splashing and I see you pull a candle from the side, behind your pillow. You light it on the original candle and you are looking at me with THAT look now. Drips are going in the tub, and I stop, trying to figure out what you need me to do next.

“I did NOT say to stop” you say, almost instantly. I keep things going again and now I can’t quite figure out …

“Damn that’s hot! And so is this… ” you say, waving the candle slowly around.

… I feel myself getting oh so close.

“Ah, there it is. I see it in your body – you’re about to lose that control you love so much, aren’t you,” you say. “Yes…” is all I can say as I feel things building inside me.

I close my eyes to let it roar through me, out of me…

And I feel a hot, wet drop from the candle hit the tip of my cock on a downstroke. Then another. The shock, the heat, the feeling of almost being there and ready to cum is all crashing around inside of me now.

Now the wax is a pretty consistent drip, drip, drip, drip on the head of my cock – “Stay away from there with your hand, but don’t you dare stop… ” is how you address my hesitation. I don’t know how to deal with the bizarre fireworks conflicting inside me – on one hand, fire. Wax. On my COCK of all things. On the other hand… well, IN the other hand…

I feel the wax running down, over me now, I feel it under my hand as it slowly, oh so slowly robs the feeling from my efforts.

The urge to cum is subsiding in the most frustrating of ways possible. It’s like making a real-life wax mold, in real-time, when I had exactly opposite intentions just moments ago.

You tell me to stop, re-coating me with the wax actively dripping from the candle now. It’s a complete mind-fuck to see fire, wax and all of that being dripped on you – being in a heavily sexual place mentally, being on display, all of it.

But here I am, wax dripping onto, off and down me. My insides screaming to cum.

But her face says it all. It’s just not going to happen at this moment. Maybe later. Maybe not. But right now? Nope.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked