Last Christmas, I Gave You the Lead

I believe I promised you a dream the other day. Truth is, I wrote it out immediately. I've been dream journaling, trying to improve my recall… because, I mean… I think my subconscious may very well be onto something. Something good. This one covered some new territory for me, but damn if it didn't have an effect. And after all, it was just a dream… But I do hope you enjoy it this foggy Christmas morning. Either way, out here in the waking world I am so eager to get to exactly what gets that beautiful little motor of yours purring, my sweet kitten. Ah, but now I'm just delaying the inevitable, and I did make a promise. So without further ado… Merry Christmas, baby. Care to take the lead today?

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Most of the dreams my mind spins out about you involve me touching you… wondering how that smooth, beautiful skin feels beneath my fingertips… wondering what your lips taste like, your nipples… how much my touch sets your body ablaze… wondering how wet you'll be when my fingers finally trace their way down…

But this morning I woke up, hard as can be, with an image of you in my mind… sitting on the bed, between my legs, breasts swaying slightly as one hand strokes while the other massages… gently, but pushing me closer and ever closer…

And you, gazing deeply into my eyes while whispering…

“Not yet, babe. Not yet.”

Even as I feel the pressure building inside me, building, growing, trying to maintain composure, it gets harder, and harder, holding it in with each and every stroke…

“Please…”

“No, baby. It's not time yet.”

Stroke.

Stroke.

Grasping the sheets, I close my eyes, seeking some form of refuge in the dark shadows behind my eyelids…

Stroke.

“No, babe. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Every ounce of my will focuses on holding in that ocean's depths of pressure, your hands doing everything they can to tease it out, the most blissfully painful contradiction…

The stroking accelerates. “Open them, baby.” The massage intensifies, threatening to squeeze everything out of me. “Open. Them.”

My grip on the sheet tightens as I force my lids back, and my eyes land on your breasts, your perfect breasts, nipples exactly as hard as I am…

Stroke.

“If you like that, baby, just imagine how wet I am right now.”

Stroke.

My eyes meet yours as I groan… “Please”.

“Almost time baby, almost. But not. Yet.”

Stroke.

“Please“

Stroke.

“Please, what, baby?”

Stroke.

“Please let me come.”

Stroke.

“Please let me come, what?”

Stroke.

“Please let me come, miss.”

Stroke.

“Hmmmmm…”

Stroke.

“Please“ gritted teeth “miss.”

Stroke.

“Are you sure you're ready? I'd hate to be disappointed…”

Stroke.

“Yesssss please now, missssssss…”

Stroke.

“Ok, baby. Come for me.”

And maybe you say something else, but just then the world is lost to me as the pressure releases in wave after wave after wave, propelled from my body with tsunami force. And I gasp as I remember, just in time…

“Thank you, miss.”

“Mmmmmmm. Of course! You've been such a good boy.”

And, never minding the mess, you lean down, your breasts pressing against my chest as you kiss me before gazing into my eyes, a sly grin forming…

“Now it's my turn.”