It goes to eleven.

So, um.

I wrote a thing.

I guess I'm not usually this bashful, not anymore, but…

Well. Maybe you'll guess where this is going, but…

It's not a new fantasy, but I am really unaccustomed to writing about it…

So. Uh.

Scene: Our bedroom. Guess everything else is immaterial… So. Um. Let's get to it, shall we?

“I'm surprised you wanna do it this way, for the first time…”

“Aw, but babe… How could I watch your eyes if I were rolled over?”

Blushing slightly—you aren't quite used to this level of vulnerability, but something tells you you could get used to it…

“Ok, well… are you ready?”

I chuckle. “Been wondering what's taking you so long!”

Another blush, but your eyes leave mine to help guide you… but mine close involuntarily, anyways, as I feel pressure against me…

“That's… you doin' ok?”

My eyes meet yours again. “Yeah” it's a bit of a grunt “it's not my first time, baby… just… first time with, you know… someone else… not… by myself… I'm…” a soft groan “…good…” as I close my eyes again and rest my head back into the pillow.

Your voice calls me back, and I open my eyes again to find yours cast down, looking at me.

“My gosh, it's… is it… does it usually get purple?!”

I snicker. “It's color-coded, to let you know how turned on I am…”

“And purple is?”

“On an amp it'd be 11…”

“Do you… I mean… are you only… uh… at an 11 for… you know… this?”

This time you get a whole chuckle out of me. “God, no, babe. It gets like that all the time… it's just… usually you're too busy feeling me to see it… plus it tends to be, uh, hidden away then, anyway.”

I watch you as you keep eyeing it, suspiciously. Finally, you reach down, and those long, long fingers wrap around…

“Mmpph… um… no hands, baby, not yet…”

You frown, but let go. “Why not?” Your eyes meet mine again.

“Do you want this to last 30 seconds, or 3?”

That one gets a chuckle out of you. “Touché!”

“No, baby, that's the whole point… no touché!”

Thank god you have a sense of humor, even in the bedroom. You grin. Hips still moving.

“Oh, whatever happened to Mr. Quick-Recharge?”

“Hah, you're looking at him.” I gaze deep, deep into those eyes. “I just… I don't know… how that might work… with… you know… where you are right now…”

You lean in, pressure against another place I'm not used to sensation… and so sensitive that the warmth radiating from your belly—close, but not touching—somehow still pulses through me… perfect breasts now dangling just before my eyes…

“Oh? And you wouldn't want to find out?” You thrust a little deeper.

“Fuuuuuck…”

You straighten up again and offer me a mock salute “Yes, sir!”

And as you enact my command with surprising gusto, all I can think is “Is this why women grip the sheets? To keep your hands from instinctively reaching for the release you know you need but are desperate to stave off for as long as possible?”

I realize I've had my eyes closed for a while… so I open them, and trace them up the impossibly beautiful, divinely feminine form before me… hips, rocking… belly… breasts… shoulders… neck… hair…

And those eyes. Those beautiful, wonderful, amazing eyes… Eyes like none other I've seen before in my life. I find those eyes locked on me… watching my face, watching my own eyes as they gaze back into yours…

It's too much, hands or no hands.

Then… hours later… or maybe just seconds, my brain can't even tell anymore… you've slowed, but not stopped. And now your hands are on me, as if you couldn't resist any longer yourself.

I glance back up at you, and you've got that look on your face…

“So, Mr. Quick-Recharge. It's up to you, but… you did say not to stop until I'm satisfied…”

Grunting, I'm still not sure, but I'm not ready to say no, either. Not when you're looking at me like that…

“I'm… I think… I mean… that could be all night…”

Your grin turns almost too wicked. Neither your hands nor your hips stop moving.

“Mm. That may be. But, babe, have you ever even looked at these harnesses? It's not like you're the only one who gets to feel…” thrusting even deeper than before “…this.”

“God. Just fuck me already, woman.”

And you do.

Yours.