Tell me what you want - Sex Stories

Tell me what you want

... boxers. He rubs his hand against me, pumping two fingers into me. It's enough to make me feel like I'm going to explode. I grip the bed sheets as his magic fingers work inside of me, curling up to caress my walls. "You're awful quiet." he says, noticing the way I'm biting my lip. I let out a deep breath, as he slows his movements. His fingers are buried deep inside of me and he leans down to kiss along my neck, I whimper, begging him in my head to keep going. "Just let go. " he says, biting down on my neck. "I can see it in your eyes... say what you're thinking." All I can do is whimper in response. He slides his fingers out slowly, circling my entrance before slowly moving them back inside, twisting as they go. His eyes never leave mine, and I have to squeeze mine shut. It feels too intimate, to be able to see his facial expression as he touches the most intimate part of me, for him to want to watch my reaction; it's both thrilling and all too embarrassing. "Don't hide from me..." He shakes his head along my neck."I want to see you... hear you." "Tell me what you want." Thousands of words swirl in my head, constricting in my throat. I've never been with someone like this before. This is pure passion, lust. No man has ever asked for me to speak during sex before, but there's a part of me that's screaming to be let out. He can sense it. "Don't stop." I say quietly, letting my lips linger on his ear. I let out a small whimper as he shifts his palm flat against me for a ...

... moment. "Doing what?" he asks, a quirk in his voice. His other hand trails along my side, leaving goose bumps. I squeeze my eyes shut, and feel my face flush pink. I vaguely wonder if his hand can feel that I'm getting wetter with each passing word that he speaks. "I-I'm not sure what you want me to say." I whisper, my body writhing in arousal beneath him. "I want you to say what you want to say." He says calmly, twisting his fingers just slightly inside of me. He drags his lips along my neck and takes a breast in his palm, rolling my nipple between his fingertips, just enough to make me hiss lowly through my teeth. "Oh god." I squeeze my eyes shut. "I think you're killing me." I say lightly, looking up into his eyes. They're alight with desire, deep blue eyes, begging for me to say more. "This isn't easy for me either." His eyes twinkle, and he grins. "Especially when all I want to do is fuck you until you can't walk straight." He grins again as I gasp, blood once again rushing to my cheeks. "But that's not going to happen...unless you tell me what you want." He quirks an eyebrow at me. I feel so frustrated, why is it so hard for me to get the words out that I want to say? I've never had a man encourage me to be sexually liberated and confident. None have even tried anything but ordinary sex, all of my past lovers have been quick and unsatisfying; it's always been about them. But here's a man who's trying to make it about me, and I can't enjoy it because of my past inadequate ...