tease

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Craftsmate discovered how much he liked edging me pretty quickly.

And I discovered just how evil Craftsmate is.

He’s really very good at making me suffer. He’s got the whole rhythm down, the teasing, the getting me justrightthere and then changing the pace. And he’ll shake his head when I beg to cum in that little condescending way and coo, when I thrust up from the mattress, that I must really, really want it.

There I am, squirming and begging, and he’s grinning and laughing. He’s never edged anyone before and he appears to be making up for lost time, because he always manages to do it once or five times when we’re messing around.

And then he tells me to be a good girl and leave it alone.

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It was this really lazy Sunday morning and Craftsmate had slept over my place after a party. We had fairly tamely shared the bed and besides some cuddling that degraded into groping, nothing had really happened. 

We had started to mess around a little in the light that filtered through the slit of window not covered by blinds. I had worn a pair of my gym shorts to bed without any panties and Craftsmate had started to tease me through the material. Eventually, I was rolled over onto my stomach, my ass pushed up into the air, his fingers rubbing through the fabric, my body quaking gently against one of my pillows.

They were the kind of gym shorts that were a sort of mesh material so they could “breathe”. This translates to, eventually, my wetness literally leaking out of the shorts. Craftsmate leaned in and I could hear him chuckling as he looked at the growing wet spot on my shorts. He brought his hand away from my cunt and I whined.

“Look at that,” he said, dangling his fingers in front of my face. They were wet. “You’ve soaked right through.” He pushed them into my mouth and I licked them clean. His fingers returned to my gym shorts once more, but only long enough to coat his fingers again. He sniffed his fingers and commented that they smelled like something he likes to eat (yeah, we’re that far back in the timeline).

Eventually, he had gotten me pretty close to the edge and just flat-out stopped. As I squirmed and whined about him being an asshole, he climbed off the bed and replied, “I’m getting a glass of water. I’d change those shorts if I were you.”

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Continued from here.

When I heard Penthouse starting to come in, I adjusted myself somewhat, lowering the sheets here and there and raising my ass a bit. It was partially to just be a brat and partially to get out of actually having to take a nap.

“Sweetheart?” I heard him say from the doorway. “Are you trying to tease me?”

I kept my face down in the pillow to hide my smirk. “Maybe.”

After a few footsteps, I felt him climb into bed and thread his fingers through my hair, tugging my head back. 

It’s kind of funny how winning sometimes looks.

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I realized that I never actually mentioned what happened with that guy from my frat beyond a sentence in some post. Mostly because I was a little conflicted about it, but I feel sort of equipped to share now.

Simply put: it was a really hot but really confusing encounter. And most of the people I have told about it agree with the hot stuff and don’t totally understand why I’m all hung up on random details.

Call me a traditional sap, but the asshole don’t kiss me.

To be fair, it didn’t fit in completely with what we were doing. He came home with me and one of my friends had fallen asleep on my carpet. So we were sort of quietly sitting up on my bed and talking.

It’s been a while, so I forget the context, but I remember telling him that I didn’t know how to place him because I didn’t know what he wanted.

“You know what I want,” he said, “but it’s more fun not giving myself that.”

And he held me down, eased my skirt up, and proceeded to edge me like I never have been before. He was firm but still sensual. The whole time I was desperately attempting to stay quiet and, just as I was teetering right at the edge, he stopped. He grinned, pulled the sheets up, and tucked me in.

“See?” I could see his smirk in the darkness. “It’s a lot more fun when I just tease you.”

And he left. I laid there in shock for a while, frustrated and awed.

On a ton of levels, I find that whole interaction incredibly hot. But I guess there’s still part of me that’s stupidly hung up on insecurities that he must not respect me, even when I know that isn’t true.

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In an effort to actually finish up stuff like I promised, I thought I’d share a story about the time I gave Switch a lap dance.

We’d made a bet and I had totally, kind of embarrassingly considering the circumstances, lost. So he told me he wanted me to dress up sleazy and give him a lap dance. Which made me laugh, initially, because I dress a little cutesy usually (lots of florals, skirts, sundresses, etc). And so half of it was extracting anything vaguely trashy from my wardrobe and constructing some vague semblance of an outfit for him.

“Can’t I just wear something lacy instead?” I texted him in frustration, “I’ve got lacy." 

"Nope,” he had replied, “you’re not going to get out of dressing up like a whore. You’re just lucky I’m letting you do this at my place and not making you walk over here dressed like this.”

So, I threw together this one vaguely slutty top, a pair of short-shorts, a ridiculously high pair of heels, a g-string and a pair of fishnet thigh-highs, put it all in a bag, and called it a day. When I reached his place, he left me to change into it and encouraged me that strippers wore a lot more makeup than I had on. I shook my head, took out my makeup bag, and proceeded to essentially crayola my face.

“Can I come in?” He called through the door as I was finishing up.

“No,” I whined, “I look silly.”

We both started laughing as he let himself in, but the second he saw me he kind of froze and the corners of his mouth curled up into one of the most indescribably sinister smirks I have ever seen in my life. “Well, look at you,” he murmured as he went to put his hand on my hip.

I slapped his hand away playfully and pointed to a chair. “No touching. Sit down.” My efforts to keep a straight face were fasting waning. 

Even if it was something for him, I’ll admit I got a little bit toppy – or maybe it was just bratty – when I was giving him the lap dance. I ground slow, I took excruciatingly long to take my clothing off, I teased myself over him, I kept pushing his hands off of me and telling him it was against the rules. We both nearly broke down laughing when he shoved a dollar bill down my panties. I was having trouble taking the whole thing seriously.

When I was down to my g-string, he reached down and tried to shove it aside. His fingers found my slit, stroking over it before trying to push up inside me. I feigned shock and stumbled away, attempting to straighten out the g-string. “You can’t do that,” I said as I turned to him, pouting. “It’s against the rules. You’d get kicked out.”

He got up to his feet, gathered up my wrists in a hand, and shoved me up against the wall. His fingers shoved into me once more. “Gonna get in trouble?” He asked.

“No,” I choked through a gasp, “but you are.”

He pulled his fingers out and spun me around, pushing me once more up against the wall. My cheek and breasts brushed the stucco roughly. And, as I felt his hand loop into my hair, keeping my face pressed into the wall, I started to take the game seriously.

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I would very much like the opportunity to be very, very mean to a boy again.

Please and thank you.

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She’ll claim she just fell asleep that way. But you could hear that telltale contrived breathing of feigned sleep the second you walked into the room. You could see the stiffness in her limbs. You could see the twitch of a smile repressed as she heard you cross to the side of the bed. And, of course, if you were still in doubt, there’s always the pouring that will ensue when you apologize, tell her to go back to sleep, and turn to leave the room.

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Humbled, Part 9

In the morning, Switch untied my hands and moved them up to the headboard, retying them there as I groggily tried to process what was going on as I woke. He rolled me fully onto my stomach and gave my rear a rough spank. “Ass up, now.” I groaned and shifted, sticking my ass into the air.

He untied my legs and shifted my knees apart until I was spread out. He tied my legs to the sides of the bed frame to ensure I wouldn’t move from this position. I could feel the cool air teasing over my cunt, it was still a little wet. He didn’t remove the blindfold.

“When do you have to go to work?” he asked.

I groaned, “noon. What time is it?”

“Seven thirty,” he replied and traced a finger over my slit.

I moaned and shivered at his touch, “why so early?”

“Because I want to be sure I’ve made you suffer before you have to go,” he said and pinched my clit. I gasped and squirmed around as he continued. “I figure you’ll need to shower, so three hours should be sufficient." 

My eyes widened behind the blindfold, "come on, no…just…you don’t want to. Why don’t we just…” He had shoved something into my mouth, pushing it past my teeth. What I deduced was the masking tape he had used to hold my fingers into my hands went over it, sealing my lips shut. 

“If you would’ve just been better last night, I wouldn’t have to do all this to you, baby,” Switch replied. He held my ass apart, spat obscenely a few times into my hole before pushing his thumb in. I bucked against him and he laughed. “You could’ve just cum this morning, but I told you, you’re just a fucktoy now. And I’m going to take my time having fun with you.”