Friday night. Belle jacked me off with the intention of edging me. After a while I took over for her and brought myself to within a heartbeat of coming. We (or, mostly I) kept at it for a while longer, but it’s not really the point of this post, so I’ll leave it at that. By the time we were done, I was pretty hot and really wanted to go down on her, but she wasn’t interested. She said she was happy not to come and that she’d let me bring her to orgasm on Saturday.
Saturday morning. As has become customary after about a week without release, I slept fitfully the night before. Belle was up before I was and let me sleep in. That was very sweet – and I really needed it – but I missed not having her next to me when I woke up. I missed not being able to paw at her and deliver the promised pleasure from the night before. But she wasn’t there, so I got up. She said I’d have to wait until that night to do her.
Saturday night. Regardless of my recent posts about service and not getting any charge from it, I did find myself wanting to make the dinner and clean up all the dishes. And, because I want to get full credit, I’ll mention it was a pork roast with mashed potatoes and green beans (though Belle made the green beans). Lots of dirty dishes. Anyway, I just did it because I wanted to do it for her. I wanted to clear the deck as much as possible for that night’s activities. I wanted her to have a special time.
So, by the time the kids were down for the night, I got into the bedroom to find her in something like a fetal position with the covers pulled up to her chin. Not a positive start. I had already lit all the candles, so it looked and smelled right in there, but her physical attitude suggested I was there to perform a rectal examination or something. I laid next to her staring up at the ceiling, on top of the covers and fully dressed, and we had a stilted conversation that eventually revealed she did not want to have any sexual activity. All she wanted was to curl up with me and go to sleep.
I didn’t react well. I had been focused on this moment for 24 hours, not expecting or even wanting my own release, but very interested in living vicariously though hers. She felt defensive and I was pissed. She again expressed concern that she wasn’t living up to my expectations and that my need for sexual contact was too much for her. I told her my expectations were that she’d be exactly whatever she wanted to be, but that all I wanted at that moment was to make her feel good. That I had orchestrated the entire latter half of the day to make that easier. I couldn’t understand how she wasn’t in the mood to do something that would give her pleasure and would entail no responsibility on her part whatsoever. I didn’t want reciprocity. All I wanted to do was make her come so I could go to bed frustrated. I suggested that perhaps she did not want to control my orgasms. She assured me that she did.
Finally, as I was thinking about getting out of bed so I could write a post full of bile and spit, she told me she wanted me to take off my clothes and stroke her head. Something unusual happened. Part of me wanted nothing to do with her. I wanted to get away from her. But another part of me – the part that cooked the food and washed the dishes – wanted to do what she said. I really struggled inside my own head. I eventually took off my clothes, reluctantly. I started stroking her head, reluctantly. She started to pet the cock and stroke my balls. I felt the spurned husband, full of pique and annoyance over being denied sex, wresting with the submissive, service-oriented male. Being naked when she wasn’t and performing the task she asked of me, even though it absolutely was not what I wanted to do, stoked the sub. He won. I felt myself slip into a pool of submissiveness.
I had a hard time telling this to Belle. It seemed like the spurned male actively got in the way of the words as they were trying to come out of my mouth, but the more I said the easier it got and the longer and harder my cock grew under her hand. I told her that somehow, this is what I wanted. I wanted her to control the sex completely. I told her she needed to be firmer with me in the future. That I should not be allowed to get away with the kind of petulance I displayed earlier. If I ever acted like that again, she should simply make me tell her who’s in charge of the sex and who owns the cock. The spurned male in me screamed at the sound of the words, but he was receding quickly and was difficult to hear. She said that hearing me say those things, knowing that she had that control, actually turned her on. Then she rolled over. The time for talking was over. I held her in my arms and stroked her forehead as she fell asleep.
Even I slept, if only for a little while.