Page 89 of Light Up The Night
I do it again and receive the same intense reaction. “You like it very much when I do…this," I caress his testicles again, “in particular."
“Yeah, babe," he says, his voice tight and raw. "The way you do that? Touchin' my balls like that? Gonna make me comesofuckin' hard."
"Balls," I say. "Your cock…and your balls."
He huffs a laugh. “Yeah."
I decide to heed his advice and try new things. If giving him an orgasm is a function of friction and rhythm over time…and if extending the duration by variance of those parameters increases the intensity of the orgasm…then I should be able to maximize his enjoyment of my ministrations by constant and random adjustment of the application of rhythmic strokes to his cock.
What kinds of variances are there, however? Let us find out.
I try a simple, fast stroke, first, one hand traveling swiftly from the plump, round head down to the base. A few of these,and Riley is growling and his abs are contracting—yes, that would be the swift and efficient method. Not what I am after, in this case. I want this to last for as long as possible—for both of us.
So now I try short, shallow, swift pumping movements at the top. Then a long stroke down to the base, and then the short, shallow, swift pumps again down there. He bucks into my hand again, grumbling in his chest.
"Fuck, Cadence…" he breathes. "So fucking good. Never felt so good in my life. Please,pleasedon't stop."
I lean over him and kiss him while applying slow strokes like before, long ones from top to bottom, kissing him to show him my desire, my joy, my appreciation, my affection. "I will not stop, Riley. I promise."
"You're learning fast," he growls.
Pride bubbles. "I have always been a quick learner. I am applying the methods you employed to heighten my pleasure."
He wraps his hand around mine which is around him and guides my movement, showing me a new stroke—twisting around the top and then plunging down to the base. I try that on my own a few times, and his eyes flutter and roll back in his head. When I do it again, paired with caressing the soft, hot weight of his balls, he arches off the bed and grinds into my touch.
The best reaction yet.
"What else can I do to make this better?" I whisper.
"With just your hands? You can't. This is…fuck, Cadence. I…ah,fuck. So good."
"Just my hands?" I repeat.
He tenses. "Never mind. "
"No, what?"
"You're not there yet, sweetheart."
“Where?" I cup his cheek. "Tell me. I shall decide what I am ready for, if you please."
"Mouth," he murmurs.
"Oh," I whisper. "I see."
"You don't—"
I kiss him quiet. "Hush, Riley. You saidIam in control."
“Yeah," he growls. "You are. I just—"
"I asked a question, and you answered. What I do with that information is up to me. Yes?"
“Yeah."
"Then let me enjoy myself. Because I am."
He groans when I give him a slow, twisting stroke and caress his balls.
