It started to become a challenge as he spoke assertively in my ear. He would ask me questions over and over till I gave an answer. My breathing slurred my words making me sound drunk. I wanted to come with him, he was not ready yet and I was humming. He needed the details and see in his mind our physical interactions.

“Grace…Grace,” he would say sternly. He knew just by my breathing if I was getting to close to explode. Yet, his tone just made me more overwhelmed with this desire to hear his voice, words and every syllable that expelled from between his lips.

“Ok…ok,” I would whimper as I would stop touching myself to pull back from spilling over the edge. My nails would dig into my thigh as he continued to flow melodically into my mind.

I kept my eyes closed so I could see him, us. He knew me inside and out. He knew what to say and when to say it at the precise time. He knew the trigger words and sounds. By now, I was his instrument that he played effortlessly.

I tried to control myself as my chest heaved. My heart pounded and my nails dug deeper into my flesh. The sting did not register because his voice paralyzed me. Slowly I would calm down and speak so softly and innocently to him. There was desperation in my voice and he knew. It was a slow torment to force myself not to come without him. It was an ultimate joy to share intense orgasms together. The sounds, the sensuality, the connection and that was the true pleasure.

At times I would get this brief moment of clarity and focus. I would ask him if I could suck on his carotid artery on the left side of his neck or bite down on his left shoulder or dig my nails into the smooth skin of his back or grip his hardness with my hand. I asked him if I could stroke him with my black panties till he came and pushed the cum drenched fabric inside of me. At that visual that was drawn so vividly in our minds we had to, we had to come.

Once he came with me, it would become almost chaotic, as he would tell me to come with him again and again. I would be hoarse, breathless and exhausted. It was never enough, never. I felt he was breaking me, pushing me, seeing how far I could go and there were times I had to stop.

In the past I have always tried to have as many orgasms as I could. But this, this was a task to actually control myself. Me control myself in the heat the moment with him? That constitutes a true contradiction.


Dark Gracie

Dark Gracie is a widely read sex writer, blogger, and deviant extraordinaire with a cult-like following. She gets up close and personal approaching sexuality with her trademark fallen-from-grace humor that entices readers. Her work has appeared in Fleshbot, Sex and the 405, BohoCrush,, Safeword Magazine and published in Erotica Diaries & Mayhem Magazine.

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