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Tender Tears

March 8th, 2008

Has anyone else been reduced to tears by tenderness or being allowed something they rarely are? I think I scared Master last night with my tears. He definitely wasn’t expecting them. I think He thought I was upset or something and was a little confused.

And I couldn’t figure out how to explain what was going on.

It’s been a really long time since I’ve been allowed to cum while He’s in me. His way is very different from many I read in that He doesn’t allow multiple orgasms – though I could perform, I’m only allowed to cum with express permission – and I’m supposed to ask any time I feel the urge, and, generally speaking, I’m only allowed to cum after sex is over and He’s sated. While part of that last is because I have an excruciatingly difficult time having an orgasm during intercourse (Sex with me truly is about getting them off. I’ve long since given up trying to get myself off without at least fingers being involved – unless I’m ordered to. And it has nothing to do with my lovers. I’ve spoken to quite a few of their exes – and currents – and found that I’m the only one not getting off.), the rest is just His way.

Last night was different. He’s informed me that had I not so insistently brushed my naked ass against His already stiffening cock He might even have gone down on me. I told Him there’s always tomorrow. * grin *

Last night, after pummeling my cunt walls while we laid on our right sides, He told me to get on top. Just climbing onto Him was ecstatic pleasure so when He told me to get my hair out of His face and I sat up to tie my hair back I thought I had died and gone to heaven. And then He told me to get there.

I was like “Wait, what?” but He didn’t have to tell me twice. The strokes of my pussy on His cock became about me and were no longer about Him. Once in a while, if I move just right and the wind’s blowing just the right direction and the stars are aligned just the right way, I can get myself off while riding His cock. No fingers, no toys… just my already oversensitive clit rubbing against the rough patch of pubic hair resting at the base of His cock.

Even when I’ve been ordered, even though I know that He gets just as much (sometimes more) pleasure out of the way I move my hips to get myself off, I start to feel guilty. I feel guilty because I’m only thinking about my pleasure and ignoring His. And feeling guilty is dangerous. Because then I stop moving the right way and I stop concentrating on what’s going on below my hips and I start moving the way He likes it most. And then I’ve disobeyed a direct order to get myself close (or off, depending on the moment).

Last night was no different. But I got there. And I got off. And then I cried.

I cried because it’s been ages since He’s allowed me to get off that way. I cried because I felt special and honored and grateful. I cried because I was so happy and so… sated! Though it didn’t last long. It never does.

I tried to hide my tears but that’s not an easy task when He’s still balls-deep in my pussy cumming right along with me. And He noticed. And I’m not sure He realized, at first, they were happy tears.

And how the hell do you explain something like that? I’m sure the blush in my cheeks was so bright that it glowed in the darkness of the room. How embarrassing!

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