It might have been our second date (my place, light bondage, showing off, Chinese food). I was straddling his waist.
He might have said “If I asked you to, would you spit in my mouth?”
I shook my head no. That was too Uber-Domme for me. Too far beyond the kink persona I was still moulding for myself.
He accepted this and we went back to inflicting pain on his nipples.
He makes me spit on his cock. Every time I make a direct hit, the moan that escapes him makes me melt.
He makes me spit on his cock.
He makes me spit on his outstretched palm.
I look up into his face in adoration as he wipes the mess from my forehead down to my mouth.
I say thank you.
It might have been near the end (the best sex, the sweetest confessions, the unbreakable love)
I was straddling his waist.
He looks so vulnerable, so sweet with his sorrowful green eyes and breath caught as he watches me.
“Open your mouth.” I say gently.