We can go vast hours without communication. I’m often chatty, but this week I have been careful to not draw His attentions.
Ha. As if that would work. (it didn’t)
He sent me a text yesterday that I’ve re-read close to a hundred times.
Yup. Really. 100 times.
I had written that His texts had sounded more “wanting”. This was His reply:
I never ‘want’, nilla – as it relates to beating you – because I know I can take it anytime I desire (distance aside). It’s just time to give you a little more than you’re expecting – just to see if you can catch your breath – or keep breathing for that matter.
Thrills and chills, my pervie peeps. He supplies them all. We exchanged texts later in the day, about this and that and we were talking about His being a tit-man. He shared a story from His formative years (He’s been a tit-man for a LONG time!) and I asked if that was a hint, since I hadn’t sent Him a tit pic in at least a day. He replied:
No – I don’t hint nilla – I take and demand. It’s more fun.
You all know I’m swooning by now, right? Last night there was tit torture and a butt plug, and NO orgasm. So I’m pretty turned on anyway. Add in all this D/s verbal foreplay? I’m sodden. Quivery in my belly, needy and wanton.
Which is, come to think of it, exactly how He likes me.