Mutual

by Ella

Oh, my friends, I can only apologize for my total neglect of this blog.  I’ve been terribly busy with my semester ending, and…well, that’s really it.  I have a lot going on right now, and something had to fall by the wayside.  Thank goodness there are two of us, yeah?  Not that Dylan’s been writing a ton either.  It’s a busy time.

Anyhow, I should preface this by saying that Dylan is back again (and has been nagging me to write), which is another reason we’ve been busy, and it makes me want to talk about something that hasn’t been mentioned here before.  When we first started fooling around (I promise I won’t start every entry like this), Dylan said to me, “I’m going to tell you right now, I don’t always cum during sex.  It is pretty much unpredictable.  It has nothing to do with the quality of the sex or my degree of arousal.  IT IS NOT ABOUT YOU.”  After a few months it became a minor issue.  He focuses on getting me off first, and then if he can cum, he does, and if he can’t, he doesn’t.  I prefer when he does, of course, but when he doesn’t, I don’t take it personally.  That’s healthy.

But I prefer when he does.  My favorite, of course, is to get him off when I’m on top.  I like being on top in general — I’m the most likely to cum that way myself.  He can always see when I’m getting close, and he tightens up his pelvis so I have something hard and firm to grid against.  I love that.  On the rare occasion that I can get him to cum when I’m on top as well, I feel immensely powerful.  It’s difficult, though, and I rarely manage it — most of the time, he flips me over a few minutes after I get mine.  When Dylan is trying to cum, he fucks me very deliberately — he pumps me fast and steadily, with a look of quiet determination.  When I’m trying to orgasm, there’s a steady escalation of excitement until I peak.  I don’t always know exactly what’s going to get me off on a given day, so I experiment until I find whatever rhythm works for me that day.  When Dylan’s trying to cum, he fucks with an agenda, and he knows how to do it.

But as I’ve said, despite his regularity, sometimes it doesn’t work.  I can always tell when it might not work, and that’s when I like to get involved.  I play with his chest or kiss his neck or thrust back against him…but my favorite thing, and what seems most likely to send him over the edge, is when I beg.  Dylan loves to hear me beg in general — we play dominance games, and I know he gets a thrill from making me plead for a touch or kiss, but this is not that game.  This is just me, Ella, so desperate to see him cum that I’m gasping in rhythm with him.  I’m not begging because I have to or in exchange for a favor — it is real pleading, no game.  “Please, baby,” I whisper, “please cum for me.  Please, let me see it, I want to see you cum.”  He grunts as I spit out the words — encouraged, I continue, urging him on, begging him to cum inside me, telling him how much I want to see it and how much his orgasm enhances my sexual experience.  It never fails.

In the moment before I cum, I can see my orgasm reflected in his eyes.  I wonder if he can see it too.

(It is with great sadness that I inform you that Dylan’s delightful gift from his last entry did not fit me.  Tragedy.)

~ by Ella on December 8, 2008.