No, thank you. Ill wait.

No thank you, I’ll wait.

It has been a week since J and I had sex.

Well, OK, 6 days, but what’s one day here or there.

It’s been 6 days since I had an orgasm.

And you know what? It’s OK.

Now before you all think I have joined some 12-step Sex Addicts Club or organization, let me go back a week.

8 days to be exact.

J and I went to a Halloween party last Friday, the 28th. He dressed as a cowboy of sorts, with the black jeans and chaps and carried on his belt, a 10 foot bullwhip. I went in my full-length leather corset and tails. I was wearing my ‘interview with the vampire custom-made teeth’ (I think I explained where those came from in a previous post and if not, ask and I will tell you) and we got a lot of attention with our mode of dress as well as a lot of comments such as “I bet you guys dress this way all the time” and “But you don’t use that during sex. Do you?” in reference to the bullwhip.

But being close to him all evening, and feeling both the leather on my body as well as seeing the chaps on him, made us both pretty horny. By the time we got home and had unwound for a while, we were left with not much clothing other than just his chaps.

We had amazing sex. No. Phenomenal sex.

Yes, I know. I always say we have great sex and we always do.

But sometimes it transcends past experiences and becomes something altogether different. Where your nerve endings are on fire and your heart beats just a little bit faster. Barely detectable differences occur. But you’re very aware of them. In a brief moment of time you can hear your blood course through your veins.

Where he touches you and your entire body responds.

That’s the kind of sex we had when we got home from the party last Friday night. Where he entered me and I felt him all the way down to my toes and all the way up to the top of my head.

Heat.

He fucked me slowly and I was quiet. In a trance. I felt the heat and tingle building in my clit. I knew this time I would cum without touching myself, or him touching me with anything other than the friction of his body. The way he knows to move against me in such a way as to render me speechless and drowning in the sensation of fucking him. Two bodies entwined, fit together perfectly, moving together perfectly, joyously.

But I believe an orgasm is spiritual in nature as well as physical. And at certain times when we are fucking, he makes me cum in such a way that satisfies me on such a base level that my thirst is quenched like no other time.

And part of it I believe was from the anticipation during that evening, of watching people watch us together. Knowing they sensed that heat that came off us like steam rising off the ground. Knowing that, while I was having a good time among our strange mix of pervy friends, I was thinking about his naked body, his hard cock, the sweat dripping down his neck, the precum dripping down his shaft.

My tongue licking it off.

The sweat.

The precum.

So this past week, while he has been under the weather, instead of getting sullen and ill-tempered (hmmm… petulant), I have been patient. And kept my hands off him. And off me.

Because I feel that tension building in my body. The need to touch him, to suck him, to feel his body on me, in me, to feel our souls connect through the fire of a kiss.

And I know my body will reward me for waiting. His body will reward me. His tongue will reward me for waiting.

So, no thank you. I’ll wait.



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