Stroking

On My back upon the bed, My eyes closed, I breathe slowly as you rest your head upon My bare chest. With My arm draped over you, I relax as much as I possibly can, focusing on your dutiful action.

you stroke Me slowly, your hand gripping firmly as it glides up and down My length. I can practically feel your eyes gazing in amazement upon My hardened arousal, the unmistakable sign of My desire for you.

I open My eyes at last, but your head is unfortunately in the way, however, so I cannot watch your small hand creating such pleasurable sensations within Me. I give a breast a gentle squeeze and am rewarded by a subtle, nearly-inaudible change in your breathing, but I do not wish to distract you from your task.

you pause, but only to reach for the small bottle. With your left hand, you awkwardly thumb open the hinged cap, and a few seconds later, I feel the first cool sensation of the lube befalling My heated anatomy, sending a shudder up My spine and causing My hand to involuntarily tighten a little around your breast.

Once you believe you have added enough lube, you thumb the hinged cap closed and again set the bottle upon the bed. For a moment, your right hand opens to spread the lube all around My hearty erection, spreading the coolness, although already the lube is warming to the temperature of My desire.

At last, you resume your appointed task, stroking Me gently, your hand moving more easily at the same pace as before. I close My eyes again, focusing upon the wonderful young woman caring for Me and the arousal she continues to inspire within Me.

I can feel it, deep within Me. I can feel the need slowly gathering, not unlike the clouds before a summertime shower. I feel seemingly heavy between my thighs, and I know all too well what that means, yet I am torn -- torn because I know you enjoy watching My love surge from Me, especially when it covers you in white, but also because I do not yet want this to end, for I truly enjoy and adore these slow, gentle, romantic moments.

...moments just like this, in this moonlit bedroom, alone with you, baring My body and My soul to you as you bare all to Me. While I am always the Master and you are always the slave, it is in moments like this when those roles are entirely irrelevant, when you and I connect on a level which is just as deep and just as profound as the most painful experiences I can bestow upon you.

I breathe deeply, slowly, willing Myself to calm, holding My need at bay, and, at least for the moment, it works. I can then focus more on the intimate action of your hand, small when compared with My solid length, yet extremely capable of producing great pleasure.

your head lifts from My chest, and I feel you shifting position beside Me upon the bed. Then I feel your hair brushing against My face, your breath warm, and then your soft lips.

Still you continue to stroke Me, your actions slowing as the kiss lingers. With both arms wrapped around you, I hold you close, wishing I could reach into your chest to cradle and protect your heart with My own hands. your hand drops lower, your fingers gently kneading My weighty testicles, and I moan softly into your mouth.

your lips lifting away, your breath warm upon my face, I open My eyes to gaze into your soul. The trust and the respect and the desire and the love all combine to create a tremendous flame within you, drawing Me ever closer to you...

I grasp your head in My hands and pull your lips back down to Mine, and your response is to squeeze My lengthy desire. I groan into your mouth, shuddering from your kiss and from your touch. As the kiss lengthens, your hand gradually tightens, and all too soon, My breathing becomes labored, My hips move slowly, My hands boldly grope your body.

Resting your head once again upon My chest, I can feel your eyes watching the intimate actions of your hand. I wonder if you can feel My pulse with your fingers and your palm. I wonder if you truly know the speed at which the clouds are gathering within My loins.

"Please don't stop..." Not a command, just a desirous plea from one soul to another.

your hand tightens even more, as does My hold upon you. you have brought Me to such a point of arousal that it almost hurts. you, who are so often vulnerable and helpless, so often on the receiving end of My kinky whims, now have near-total control, stroking Me with quick and firm motions.

"Please!"

I almost never say anything when W/we are intimate, so that I can better hear your hard breaths and your passionate cries. The roles are truly reversed.

My eyes closed, I feel you lift your head from My chest as the weighty need nears the point of no return. your hair brushes across My exposed skin...

Just as you kiss Me directly over My heart, My passion rises from Me, a jet of white erupting like a geyser. I clutch you fiercely, groaning and shaking in this moment of complete vulnerability, consumed by the pleasure you give Me and reveling in the fact that I can share such a tremendous moment specifically with you.

When at last I am spent, when My hold loosens and My breathing begins to slow, I open My eyes at last, and I find that, despite the mess I had made upon Myself and upon your hand and wrist, the flame still burns brightly within you, and you even seem to glow a little from your role in creating the mess.

After a few minutes, you extricate yourself from My arms and slip off the bed. Now you are truly the slave again, taking care in cleaning and putting away the lube. Yet I notice how you discretely glance at My penis, and knowing you, I presume that My guess is right: you are reliving the act of stroking Me.