Slowly, I ease out just a few inches before sliding back in. It’s a foreign feeling to be the one doing the fucking, but a vigorous feeling of carnal energy runs through me too. I want to let loose on him, go wild and rough, demanding pleasure from his body. I want to take him to his breaking point without going over.
But we’re not there yet, so I go easy.
After a while, I sense his hips moving back to meet my thrusts, so I pick up a little speed, pulling out more each time, striking at different angles. His groans get louder, and his language gets more colorful, and I know the exact moment I find his prostate.
“Jesus, fuck me. God, Maggie…ugh.” I’m not sure if that was a prayer or a request for more, but I take it as the latter. Grabbing on tight to his hips, I slam into him harder. Seeing the way his body reacts to the powerful thrusts makes my clit pulse and my thighs grow even more moist.
“You’re taking me so well, Beau. You should see how good this looks,” I say in a raspy tone.
This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. With each thrust, the strap between my legs rubs against my clit, making me more and more keyed in and turned on. As much as I want to tear this thing off and ride his cock until I come, I am more interested in seeing this part through first, because it’s so, so good.
“Are you ready to come yet?” I ask.
“Yes, please,” he groans.
“Not yet,” I reply. “Don’t you even think about touching your dick until I say so. Do not come yet. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies tightly with a dirty sounding grunt.
Squeezing his hips tighter, I finally let go of everything else. Every thought in my head is gone until it’s just him and me and this insane, intense, unbelievable moment. All of the power he’s handed me is burning like a fire between us. The only sound in the room is of the pounding of our bodies and the noises it’s eliciting with each thrust. Cries of pleasure and need and desire. He’s desperate to touch himself, I know it. But I want to wait until the very last minute.
The strap is rubbing my clit raw, and I’m probably going just as insane as he is. But I don’t stop. I drive him to the very edge, where pleasure becomes pain. Want turns to need. Where our bodies don’t feel like our bodies anymore but just vessels of raw, filthy, breathtaking sex.
Once we’ve reached that point, and I notice his fists are turning white with the way they’ve clutched the bedsheets, I let him have what he wants. “Do it, Beau. Stroke yourself. Come all over this bed and show me how much you love this.”
The sound that comes out of him at that moment is part cry, part moan, and part animalistic roar. It’s enough to make me let out a high-pitched cry of my own, and as I watch him fist his aching cock, reflected in the mirror on the wall, I keep up my thrusting.
I’m so turned on I can barely breathe, but I don’t quite expect my own orgasm to slam into me with the force that it does. I use his body for leverage, grinding into him as every nerve ending in my body lights up with pleasure.
Then I watch with satisfaction as he paints the bed white, spraying his pleasure where I can see it. I’m buried to the hilt as he comes, and I love the way his body shudders against mine.
“Good boy,” I mumble again and again. “So, so good.”
It feels like it takes us both forever to catch our breaths. When he’s finally emptied himself of his cum, I gently ease out of him, working to remove the strap-on in a rush. Once it’s unfastened, I toss it to the floor and focus on him. My hands run along the sweat-soaked planes of his back and the erratic cadence of his breathing.
“Talk to me. How are you?”
“So fucking good,” he replies breathlessly. He’s blindfolded, but he still turns his head toward me.