Sometimes he gets ornery. Last night apparently I wasn't allowed to kiss the side of his neck, if the sudden wrenching on one arm to move me was any indication. He smiled mischieviously. When I am told I don't get something, that's all I want. Childish whimsy meets adult fantasy. He knew this.
"What do we say?" He prompted.
"Now," I insisted. I flashed my adorable smile, show dimple. He shook his head, his smile wider. "Now is perfectly acceptable."
He leaned over me, briefly kissed me, moved his neck where just the tip of my tongue could barely touch for the briefest of seconds, before pulling away and gazing down at me expectantly. That was it, I was pulling out the big guns, or my bottom lip as it were, in a pout. "We say please, not now," he instructed me, oblivious to the cute pouty lip strategy.
"Does please guarantee me?"
"Almost always," he left a loophole in that statement, I saw it, but still pushed for my advantage.
Later, I was devising, I was going to demand sex several times a day with a please, and remind him of that statement. For the moment, however, I didn't want to give myself too much of an advantage. I liked the game. "Please release my arm then," he seemed surprised with this request, but immediately obeyed. I rolled us over and tried again with his neck, but he turned his head, and even with me pushing, I couldn't access it still. He went to grab the same arm, "I said please, you can't get it." He tried a different tactic, and rolled me over, holding both shoulders, but I had my legs, and pushed away.
It was some minutes of twisting and turning before he had my legs under control, but I still had my elbows, and I was insistent on gaining the upper hand and getting to his neck. He kept complaining of elbows in his chest, and before you knew it, I was on top again, my legs free.
He was apparently done with elbows, as he grabbed around me, flipped me off of him, and laid on top of my back. His feet wrapped like steel around my legs, applied pressure and kept my thighs apart. He moved his hard, warm shaft against my entrance, the head rested against my clit. His hand moved to the back my neck, brushed aside hair and roughly kissed the exposed skin, before the fingers moved higher still to the base of my skull and gripped the hair, pulled back, and kissed the laid bare side of my neck. He used force with his lips and tongue, then went lighter, moved up the ear lobe, used my hair to manipulate where he wanted to trace his mouth. He nibbled for a moment, then whispered how much he loved me as he moved his shaft along the tenderness of my sex at the same time.
"You're so sexy," I muttered, "such a turn-on," and some other compliments that barely even penetrated my consciousness but escaped my lips. He continued to breathe softly on my neck and ear, whispered of his love, tongue delved upon skin briefly, teased, moved on. His fingers still tangled in my tresses, not releasing any pressure. His other hand pressed into the bed, in front of a hip, and fingered my clit, before discovering that I was wet. He gently guided his head to my entrance, probed me open, glided deeply, paused there, before his hips began the rise and fall pattern, and I was begging please...and now.
Now + Please = Wicked Amazing