We were there in the changing room before Mr E arrived. I had decided that I wouldn’t let him see her until I’d gotten her ready for it. This was as much her special time as it was his after all.
She needed to be prepared, she needed to be wet enough, otherwise something could go wrong. She could start crying or yelling, and of course he’d run off to hide from an imaginary squad of sex-police (or whatever he was so afraid of) and it’d be this whole big thing!
Nope. I wasn’t going to let the situation best me. This is why you need good planning skills to do what I do, else, everyone would just flail about like animals and never get any real fucking done!
So, I had her there with me. Mr E wasn’t in the room yet. I’d made him wait outside.
He was always so quiet that one. Once, I intentionally stepped on his foot, as hard as I could, just to see what he’d do and he did nothing, just froze as though waiting for something.
I told Mr E to keep going so he did, like a machine… or an obedient child. I did it again. He stopped again. Couldn’t quite see his eyes but I could tell – even though it was pretty hard to curve my back far enough – that Mr E’s gaze was planted on the ground like he was bracing for a harsh slap or an angry tirade.
In that moment, a strange whirlpool of emotions began churning inside of me and I immediately felt sorry for him but also much closer to him – this strange creature – than ever before. I turned to face Mr E fully and whispered deep in his ear in as soft and lovely and coquettish a voice as I could make, “No matter what I do daddy, no matter what I say or how hard I scream, don’t stop until I say…that word.”
I felt that he’d heard me and understood my words, but he was still reluctant. I’d had to pull Mr E out of me in order to turn as quickly as I did and it seemed like he didn’t have the courage to put himself back in.
Something in that moment – that one stupid, agonizingly eternal moment – made me want to hold him, tight, and purge all the distance between us that had suddenly been created.
So I did. As tight as I could. Then I moaned a hot, needy moan, right in his ear like a feral cat, while grinding my crotch against his. That got him moving again.
It’s a game, always an extremely delicate game, that men like Mr E, (the ones most desperate to play I think) are usually quite ill-equipped to handle or understand.
He needs me… I know he does. What would he do with all that hunger if he didn’t have me?
Mr E wasn’t the kind of man to break the rules – those of the state, he couldn’t care less about but, his own personal rules were quite sacred. He’d told me (in that grey old voice I love) that, a while ago he’d made a declaration to himself that he would never let his own passions – that dark flame of lust hidden in the pit of his soul – get out of hand. He’d never let it lead him astray to people who either couldn’t handle it or wouldn’t understand it. Now, I know he isn’t strong enough for all that… poor thing. That’s why we’re together. That’s why he NEEDS me.