‘The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.’
– Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
I think of this moment a lot. The moment that was captured in this photograph and EA used in a Sinful Sunday post. It may have been a staged photo, squeezed into a busy day and not part of ‘proper’ sex (sorry to break the illusion!), but it was still just so fucking hot that I can’t stop thinking about it. The temptation; right there but out of reach. Oh yes, I think about this moment a lot!
I couldn’t move; I had to lie on my back with him straddling me, pinning my arms by my sides, in order to get the angles of the shot right. His weight on my chest pressed me hard into the mattress and the grip of his thighs kept me trapped in place. These are my favourite type of restraints; his grip, his weight, his hold. Being held in that way reminded me of all the other times that I have struggled against him and fought to be free. When he grabs my wrists and pulls them up above my head, when he pushes down on my shoulder and crushes me, when his fingers dig into my hips to bind me in place. Even though I am now fully clothed and supposed to be just posing, I still squirm against him. I want him. I want more.
And the more that I want is right there in front of my eyes. His glorious body is stretched out above me and he’s almost all that I can see. Every detail; the curve of his thighs, the smooth lines of his torso, the soft curls of his hair, and the freckles that scatter across his skin. His cock hanging in front of me is so close that I can smell him. Oh, I love the smell of his cock. It’s fresh and musky and smells like sex. Fuck, I’m drowning. My mouth is watering and I’ve stopped caring about the photo. I just want his cock in my mouth, to wrap my lips around him and feel him deep in my throat.
Except that I can’t reach him. He is tantilisingly, temptingly close but I still can’t get to what I want. He dips lower to get a better image and I can’t tell if he knows what a fucking tease he is being. I lift head to try to taste him but he’s moved again and I miss my chance. I stick out my tongue, hoping to lick the tip of his cock with that extra reach, but he sits back, moving even further away. Oh, he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing! And as he grins down at me, it only makes me want him more.
We did take some great photos. Compressed against the bed, held under his body, aching for him as he wiggles and teases above me, I can see my need and happiness and fucking wet hot horniness shining out of the photos we make.
It’s pretty safe to say that I love this photo. And what a perfect prompt for my first Masturbation Monday story – a photo that consistently makes me want to push my hands into my knickers. And then maybe suck his cock…