I Hate It When That Happens (#1)

[I’m thinking I might make this a recurring theme (meaning sometime down the road there might be a #2, #3, etc.). But for now, at least… ]

I Hate It Then That Happens (#1):
Putting Me On The Spot.

“What do you want?”

Dee’s on her knees in front of me, panting into a pillow, ass in the air, my cock inside her. She’s just had a really good orgasm, and now I’m pretty sure all she wants is for me to have my fun.

I hate it when she puts me on the spot like this.

What do I want? I want to yank my dick out, shift my aim, and bury it in her ass. I want to turn her around and shove my cock down her throat. I want to jerk off and come all over her back. I want to roll her over and fuck her tits until I explode. I want to grab her by the waist, drive it deep into her pussy, and finish what I started.

But it’s late, and this is our second go-round of the evening. I really only have one bullet left in the gun…

I hate the question. I get distracted by it. I stop living in the moment and start pondering, considering… ranking my options. What exactly do I want? What do I want most? What haven’t we done in a while? What do I think will be most satisfying for me? For her?

I hate the question because I never have a good answer for it. I never know what my answer is going to be, or even what I want it to be.

Maybe next time I’ll just smack her ass, tell her to shut the fuck up, and just do what I want to do. That's the whole point, anyways, and I know that's what she wants me to do…

…but then I’d just be asking myself the very same question.

What do I want?

I hate that question.

The answer is always “YES!”

And that's really not an answer at all.