the-romantic-dominant:

The Game

A little window into the mind of the olé blogger during sex. You see, I tend to play a little Game in my own head with the female laid out in front of me.

She is my chessboard. My deck of cards. My Super Bowl. My World Series. Although the focus is on her and the passion is always very real, I’d be lying if I didn’t see the Game unfolding before me.

I toy with you, just a bit, but make no mistake – my heart is in it each step of the way. Still, there is something sinister about the Game I play.

The Game starts when I finger you, standing up, with a hand around your neck. I stare directly into your eyes and soak in every single reaction.

I wait for that first orgasm. That inward knee jolt. That “I can barely stand” motion. I wait. I soak it all in. I just scored the first run.

I wait to see your face when I bring the wet fingers up to your mouth. I see your look. I soak it in. I push my fingers deep back into your windpipe and wait for the inevitable gag reflex to occur. I wait for the look in your face. Will you be mad or smile? I wait for that reaction. And I soak it in.

I toss you on the bed and suck and flick your clit between my tongue and upper lip so precisely and aggressively and I see the similar knee jolt and tight legs take root around my neck. I do it again. Then again. Then again.

The whole time ticking points in my head in the Game I play with myself at the expense of you. I see those reactions and hear those moans and feel those spasms and I just wallow in the pride as I soak it all in.

I tilt my head sideways with my mouth on your clit with the same raw aggressive angst as before, but I fill your pussy with my fingers and listen to the “oh shit” escape you as your realize I just upped the ante in the Game I play.

I see it through until you cum again. Then climb up and squeeze your neck when you are two sheets to wind, thoroughly wrecked from the seemingly countless orgasms that hit you before, each taking a little out of your tank. I see that look like “oh fuck, you have got to be kidding me”. I dwell in that as I clamp down on your windpipe and thrust my hard dick right up inside you. I see your face. I dwell in it.

I power through until we cum together. My Game has come into the Fourth Quarter now. I watch you take 5 minutes to even move amy cum seeps out of you and all the energy that you had left in your body was just enough the roll on your side so I could slide a towel between your legs. You don’t move because you can’t.

I stand at the edge of the bed with immense pride and just soak in the havoc I created. No toys. No assistance. Just me and my ambition and a woman completely fucking wrecked.

I like my Game. I’m strangely getting better at it with age. Each time I play, it’s practice for the next time. Next time, I’m gonna be better than the last.

Tomorrow I’m hoping for extra innings.