The Three Minute Game

Warning: This story contains some references to Daddy/girl, because that is what we usually call each other while playing. The first part of this story is an explanation and example of the three minute game, something the Body Electric School explores in their workshops, and does not contain the specific Daddy/girl words; the Daddy/girl play is further on.

I returned home from LA, from four days with Rife, and I was ecstatic to see Kristen. She picked me up early, early at the airport on the red eye, and we fell back asleep at home for a few hours, made some lunch, talked about what we’d been doing.

In the afternoon, we returned to the bedroom.

I know when I travel it’s best to come back to her sweet and slow, and even more so when I’ve been off seeing my lover. I was turned on (she felt so good in my arms, under my hands, her feminine curves, her sweet soft skin) and had some ideas, but we needed a way to reconnect playfully, slowly, first.

“Want to play the three minute game?” I asked.

“Okay,” she said brightly, smiling like I’d offered to make her favorite meal for dinner. “But remind me of the rules?”

“Each of us gets a turn, and each turn is three minutes, carefully timed. There are two turns, so—four rounds. The first is, ‘this is what I would like to do to you for my pleasure.’ Then, ‘this is what I would like you to do to me for my pleasure.'”

“Got it.” We’ve played before, but only a few times, and the last time didn’t go so well—she’d asked me for some touch around my chest and we both got uncomfortable and had to stop, but neither of us handled it well. I hoped we wouldn’t do that again.

“You go first,” I said (being a top is useful sometimes).

“Alright … for my pleasure, I would like to sit on your lap, and for you to kiss my face and neck and suck on my nipples.”

“Mmm, I’d love to,” I said. “Take off your shirt.” Part of the point is to respond well—with eagerness, or with suggestions of something else related if you are uncomfortable with what they request.

I shifted up to the head of the bed so I could support my back against the wall, and Kristen curled up over my lap. I set the timer on my phone for three minutes.

At first, I barely made contact. I let her feel my breath and nose and the heat of my skin; I closed my eyes and remembered the contours of her jaw and cheek with the tiny invisible hairs on my face. Then I let my lips touch her, just brushing, gently, gently, as light of a touch as I could manage, as slow as I could tolerate. Feeling her weight on my thighs and the curves of her waist and back and spine in my hand made me want her, but I resisted.

I traced her jaw, cheek, throat with my mouth, kissing now, using the soft insides of my lips, keeping my mouth supple. She made that soft mewling moan that slays me and a shiver ran down my spine. I kept going, working that spot on her neck by her earlobe that she loves, then where her neck and shoulders meet, and down to her collarbone. I kissed along the curves of the tops of her breasts, making my way between the cleft of them, down to one nipple and then the other, sucking them into my mouth, teasing gently with my teeth and tongue, suckling, nibbling.

Just as I was getting into it, drawing her closer to me with my arms around her back, burying my face in her, just as she was starting to drop her head back and thrust her tits forward, the timer went off, and we both laughed.

I shifted my position a little and she sat more on the bed than on my lap. I kissed her lips. She said, “It’s your turn.”

“For my pleasure …” I swallowed. “I would like you to kiss my feet.” We’ve played with this a little. It is only recently that I have admitted how much I like it—to myself and others—enough to actually experiment with the sensation. It makes me nervous to ask for. But that is partly what this game is for, and it’s only three minutes. I can do just about anything for three minutes.

She nodded, looked at me a little coyly, chin down eyes up lips parted, and said, “And suck your toes?”

My breath caught. “Yes,” I think I managed to say. I think it was audible. So nervous. And it’s something that I wanted to feel, so much.

I set the timer again and she slid down the bed on her belly to take my right foot in her hands and deliver a sprinkling of kisses along the top of it. She ran her tongue along the instep, the most sensitive part, and sucked gently with her lips. She tongued the crease between my big toe and second toe before sliding the larger into her mouth.

I groaned. It is so vulnerable and makes me so nervous to give over, to feel her mouth in that way. The sensation is so close to tickling but is ecstatic, and so close to getting my cock sucked but is very different. She worked her mouth over all the crevices she could reach. She sucked and licked, moving her tongue up and down, holding my heel and ankle in her hands.

Then she switched to my other foot.

(It is so hard to write about this! And words like toes and foot seem so inherently unsexy, somehow—but I know the feeling absolutely turns me on. I don’t think I’ve written about it here before. I don’t know if I want to, except that I like to challenge myself to make myself vulnerable, to Kristen and to myself and in this writing project, and this feels very edgy.)

Those three minutes felt like an hour. I lost myself in the sensation, but I didn’t lose my body: moreso the opposite. I felt my whole self down to each toe, where so much stimulation was concentrated. I felt my cock quiver and my nipples harden and my throat go dry as I tried to swallow. I watched her mouth move and lips darken with blood and sensation and she smiled and giggled a little as she showed me what she could do. My eyes rolled back. My wrists went slack. I almost begged for her to stop, almost begged for more. I was overwhelmed and ecstatic and so turned on.

The timer went off and I breathed out, both a sigh of relief and disappointment that it was over. “For your pleasure, what would you like to do to me?” I asked.

She rose to her hands and knees and crawled forward toward me on the bed. “I would like to suck your cock.”

“Mmmm, gladly,” I said, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Give me just a minute to put it on.” I slid my jeans and briefs off, tossed my tee shirt into the laundry basket, pulled on my cock and harness from the small jersey bag I tend to keep it in, and returned back to the bed. She crawled over me. I barely had time to restart the timer before she had my cock in her mouth, tongue eager again, her lips soft and sucking me down. It’s a big cock, the Maverick, my favorite one, the one I use only with her.

She’s still warming up, but I want to push her.

“Is that too big for your little mouth, pretty girl?”

She smiles and shakes her head, mouth open, my cock still pushing past her lips. “No, Daddy.”

“Show me how you can do it, then.”

And she did: gulped it down even farther, slid it down her mouth in that magic way that I don’t understand. How is there even that much room inside her body? I don’t want to think about it. I concentrate on the sensation, on her hand at the base of my cock, on the way it pulls against my clit, on the vision of her tongue against me. I moaned and tried not to buck my hips up into her. She worked it like she does, sweet and slow and eager, and I watched and stretched myself into every inch of that cock, embodying it.

The timer went off and I wanted to fuck her. “I want to fuck you,” I said. “But without a timer.”

She nodded and came up to kiss me. “Yes please. Pick something else to do for three minutes first.”

That was all I wanted to do. I thought about it. “I’d like to go down on you.” She’d gotten her pussy waxed just before I left and I knew it was still smooth and bare, and it is so hard to keep my mouth off of her when she’s like that.

She nodded again and we switched places. She parted her thighs and I dove in, elbows up under her knees and my hands wrapped around her hips, my mouth finding her slit wet and swollen already. She tastes so good, musky and a little sour. She was bleeding but that doesn’t stop me; she’d already taken her cup out. I slid two fingers in and just held them there, a little pressure up as I caught her clit in my mouth and flicked it with my tongue.

“Ohhh, Daddy,” she moaned.

I lapped the length of her, savoring her smooth skin, sucking her labia into my mouth before sliding back up to suck her clit. A little suction, a little flick of my tongue, a little more pressure with my fingers inside her, and she was convulsing already, coming easily once, twice, in quick succession, like she does.

“Ohh Daddy, that feels so good,” she ran her fingers through my hair. I didn’t let up yet. I dipped my tongue as far as I could reach, fucking her hole with it, and she moaned again, giggled and sighed, and I kept going with my thumb flicking her clit until she came again, squirting this time, not a lot but enough that I noticed, and I caught it in my mouth, a little sour against my tongue.

The timer went off. I kissed her thighs, wiped my mouth on them a little. “Come here, come kiss me,” she said, stretching her arms out for me, and I slid into them, wiped my mouth again before kissing her. “I like tasting me on you,” she said. We kissed again, more, deeper, my mouth covering hers, our lips soft, her mouth sweet. I found her pussy again with my fingers, thrust in a little deeper, a little harder this time, and her spine arched, head bent back with a moan. “Ohhh fuck me, please,” she whispered.

I pulled back, nodded, more urgent now, desirous. Grabbing the bottle of lube from my bedstand, I smeared my cock with it, then added a little more right to her pussy, dripping down from her clit. I rubbed it around with my cock, parting her lips and pushing inside slowly, all the way. We both moaned and my hips shuddered, contracting already. “Baby, you feel so good, so good,” I started in on a string of dirty words. “I love the way you feel, sweet girl, I missed you.”

“You like my pussy, Daddy?” she started. “It feels good, you feel good inside. I like it. Put it in and out. Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me, yeah, like that … ohhh yeah, please, more Daddy, more …”

And I followed her directions, fucked her harder, slid in deeper, and shook against her as I came inside. She held me against her. I caught my breath. “Did you come enough?” I asked. She nodded, both of us worn out. Even though we had some time to sleep after I arrived at 5:45am, I still felt like I’d skipped a night. We kissed more, light and soft, and curled around each other, falling asleep together for another brief nap before we got up to make dinner.

Sinclair Sexsmith

Sinclair Sexsmith ( writes the award-winning personal online project Sugarbutch Chronicles: The Sex, Gender, and Relationship Adventures of a Kinky Queer Butch Top at They have contributed to more than a dozen anthologies, and is the editor of Say Please: Lesbian BDSM Erotica. They teach workshops on gender and sexuality throughout the US, including at various colleges.

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