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Countdown

I’m an exhibitionist. I love getting dressed up, spending extra time on my hair and makeup, and going out. He knows this and indulges me every time we’re together, but this time, he told me that I had to earn it.

I begged for details, tried to coerce him in my most sultry voice, promised any and every sexual favor if he would just give me a hint. His willpower is legendary, but he did relent just a little and sent me a countdown gif. “You have to count to 10 before I take you out to dinner.” he said. I assumed he meant orgasms. Normally, the thought of multiple orgasms in his presence sends me into a lust-filled frenzy. He’s so talented and knows my body better than I do. The combination of excitement, anticipation, and his expert touch send me over the edge in record time. I’m usually moaning and desperately grabbing for him before he ever makes a move. My concern was that he turns me into a blubbering idiot in the process. I wasn’t even sure I could speak, let alone keep track of numbers. And, what if it’s this never-ending, continuous orgasm he’s so famous for? It could take hours, and I so desperately wanted to be his arm candy for the evening.

I arrived early, too early to check into the hotel. We shopped for a bit to kill time. I was hanging on him like a teenager in love for the first time, grabbing his hand at every opportunity, secretly wishing he would throw me up against a wall in the home goods section and make me beg for him. I looked into his eyes longingly. He may be one of the most intelligent men I know, but I have my own super powers. I knew my adoring puppy dog look and strategic cleavage exposure were having the desired effect when he gave me that horny, hungry smile, and returned my gaze. So freaking fun!

I would have stripped in the hallway leaving a trail of clothes and lingerie behind me, but my hands were full. When he finally opened the door to our room, I dropped everything and ripped off every stich of clothing in a frenzy. I couldn’t wait to feel his naked skin against mine, and I had a job to do. He gave me that shit eating grin, knowing he had me right where he wanted me – so maniacal! I undressed him and knelt before him, hoping he would fill my mouth with his cock. “Not yet.” He chided me, and pulled me to my feet. He bent down and his lips touched mine. The kiss was electrical and made my whole body shiver. Is it possible to want somebody so bad? Even if I could keep my mind in check, my body would betray me and he knows it.

Sensing my desperation, he laid me down on the bed and slid a towel under me. He dove in without hesitation and within seconds, I was screaming, “Oh shit! Yes! That feels so good. I want to cum! Please let me cum!” He picked up the speed and my already soaking pussy released a fountain of squirt, my body shuddered and the walls of my vagina contracted. It was euphoric. I managed to weakly squeak out, “Oe, Oe, One.” He smiled, leaned into my ear and whispered, “good girl.” Oh dear god! What kind of mind fuck is this? I have absolutely zero control at this point. He claimed me for his own with two little words.

The assault continued. I was determined to complete my task. Dinner be damned! All I could think about was earning another good girl. I wanted to please him so badly. Somehow, I managed to keep track of what number we were on. Many times, I could barely eeek out a whisper and by the end I was yelling at the top of my lungs. The orgasms kept coming and I had soaked two towels and left a sizeable wet spot on the bed. Finally, I reached my 10th orgasm. My body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. I couldn’t stop shaking. He held me and whispered in my ear again, “You’re such a good girl.” I looked into his eyes and grinned. He makes me so happy. How did I get so lucky?