I got it. Your dirty secret.

SoI'll behave if you will. I'll stop sticking my tits in your face if you stop casually easing up your shirt and slowly tying the drawstring of your pants, low enough so I can see the waistband of your briefs, granting me an excruciating and extended vision of your chest and abs. I'll stop licking the back of your neck when you accidentally press up against me if you stop biting mine. Walk into a dark room and tell me to behave. What did you think was going to happen, Mr. I-Just-Want-T0-Be-Friends?

Well, I guess we know now, don't we, where a sophisticated conversation can lead. One day's heat leading to another's resolve, until the moment of opportunity, where I finally put my hand in your lap while we're staring straight ahead. Now you are not the first man who has done this. The whole this-is-not-happening game. Those on my side of the Madonna-Whore complex know it all too well. Your face stares ahead, lost in my handjob. You moved my hand like a good boy. Tried to keep it light, you know? Catholics. That works once. Then I move back, start jacking you off through your pants, invite your hand onto my tit until it moves between my legs, and I pull down my wasteband and let you in. I work your zipper. I extract your cock. I pump it in the darkness as we play in parallel. You are stroking all that silk and fire now, so much buildup, all for you, as I talk dirty to you, my moment of confession. How you're the only man I think about, which is true and you don't believe. How bad I want you. Your fingers are all over my clit and then you start fucking me with them, real gently, and I'm so close, so fast. But I decide to misbehave after a few minutes of this and deepthroat your cock. You tell me it's not a good idea. You are unconvincing.

I am rewarded, once I find your hotspot, with a vigorous grab on my hair and your hand on my ass. Your nails leave bruises, your hands rake my ass, loving the crazy pain you are causing. Your cock and my throat are a perfect fit. I could service you all night. But you deny yourself, asking me to stop before the moment of truth. And so we talk for a while, ease off, And now I will take the pain of that. For you. Because a few minutes later, your secret can't stay inside anymore.

You tell me I have great tits and so I invite you back for some play. And this is how I learn. You like to hurt girls. It's ok, a common thing, we're both adults, and I have experience. But I am unprepared for what my desire can do in this situation. I will offer you as much as I can. I chose the bra with you in mind, it frames them for play like this. I uncup the left one and guide your hand. You caress, and then zero in on your target. Your fingers find my nipple, hardening, and squeeze. I freeze.

Not for a second, what seems like a minute, like whitehot stars as you apply real pressure to my nipple, and I begin to moan. You increase the pressure, impassive, and I start to fly into the pain. Because you don't stop, my moaning moves out into screaming, and I am still taking it, and I am still there. You give me a break, your face not changing, you don't encourage, I get nothing, then you lick your fingers and come in for more. Yes. Pain I can't describe and my mouth is the only release as I moan and scream and go places abstract with you while you fire up my nipple. Holy god that you dare. This is out of control. I am high on your abilty to make me see stars. I try to talk to you about it but I'm too high....You give me nothing. But it was more truth than you ever told, tiger. What you're capable of, what I'm in for, what submission to you really means.

And all I know is that you own me more and more...and it terrifies me.