L is for Laughter

He squirmed. That laughter. It frustrated him how much it turned him on when she laughed at his predicament.

photo of a woman with curly hair laughing
Photo by Meruyert Gonullu on Pexels.com

He pulled at the restraints, but there was no give at all. She started edging him again and he just held on for the ride. He knew the price for going over wasn’t going to be pretty and he was going to do his best to not let it happen.

This would probably be a good time to like baseball, but that had never been his jam. What could he concentrate on to keep in control? He started counting backward from 100 in his head as she brought him just to the edge again.

He shuddered but kept from cumming. She laughed again. “That one was awfully close.” She started stroking agonizingly slow and her fingers barely touching him.

“But I didn’t.” He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he should have just shut up. That was a total challenge and she had the upper hand, so to speak.

“Well, I guess I just need to try a little harder,” she said as she started again. There was a rhythm that he recognized and he tried to brace himself. She touched that one spot over and over again as she stroked his cock.

He could feel it starting and knew that he was helpless at this point. She pushed him just past the edge, and stopped. “Fuck!” he growled as the ruined orgasm swept through his body.

And she laughed.

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