Lying in the dark last night, he said I was behaving like a stroppy teenager. I kind of didn’t know what he was talking about and then realised my lips were so pouted, I could be mistaken for Donald Duck.
Anyway, I felt justified in my moodiness but was kind of hoping that he would take me in hand with some sort of punishment – but that was not to be… I snapped out of it and cuddled up – trying to ignore the fact that I so wanted to be fucked – but he was not having any of it.
Tonight I went down to where he was sitting (sniffling from a flu) on the sofa.
“Please Sir, do you think if I did a little dance for you… you might do things to me? ”
I was half joking – but about to go on about maybe begging on my knees for a piece of his cock. But he showed me some clips of music from the 80’s and my bid for a fuck kind of peetered out. He isn’t 100%, so I don’t want to push it…
Later putting out some laundry, he starts pushing into my cunt with his fist – which is one of the things that gives me the most pleasure. He grabs my nipple and squeezes hard – my knees start to give way. He grabs my ass and deftly pushes me over onto the sofa and begins to rub himself against me.
Ooh, I think I might be in here – fingers and toes all crossed!