I’m honored. But I’m still not giving you new material
Me
Jazz Grimsay
Don’t pout. I’m sure you can dig something up from today. Not even you could have possibly tapped out that goldmine already
I know there’s no chance of him relenting no matter what I try so I decide to follow the suggestion and scroll back through our texts to view the ones sent earlier today. The firstone I come across is the picture of me covered in cum; then it’s the video; then it’s dick pic.
Jesus Christ…
Jazz might have a point about me being an attention whore. It seems so one-sided and desperate without the context of the phone call. But even with the phone call only the video was solicited…
I shake my head and keep scrolling back, rubbing a hand over my flaming face as I see how fucking desperate and needy I sound—desperate enough to flash my cock to the camera a few minutes later.
I let out a soft gasp when I see another photo—the one of my jeans-covered boner—because I’ve suddenly remembered the reason I sent it.
Jazz Grimsay
Is this about last night? My guess is you responded to a very degrading scenario. I could have suggested pouring a root beer float all over you and you probably would have been just as turned on
“Fucking hell…”I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my head back against the headboard, my cock throbbing painfully as I’m once again incredibly affected by the prospect of being made to endure something so gross and degrading.
But it’s not just the hypothetical suggestion, it’s the reminder of last night; when Jazz had me pinned against that wall—restraining me, manhandling me, giving me pleasure and then denying me…—it might have been a demonstration but I was completely at his mercy, and Ilovedit.
I’m suddenly aching with the need to feel that way again so, on instinct, I roll onto my stomach and shove my head under a pillow, holding it firmly in place as I grind my hard dick against the mattress. It doesn’t take much imagination at all to replacemy hands with Jazz’s and it’s not long before I’m completely caught up in the fantasy.
My breathing is ragged and my lungs feel tight but I still manage to grind my hips into the mattress and let out desperate moans as Jazz straddles my back and smothers me.
Fuck it’s so heady to be so thoroughly under someone else’s control. My safety in their hands. Completely at their mercy. It’s a rush.
“…you crave sexual domination—ergo, you’re a submissive.”
Fuck, it’s true. I do want to be dominated. I want to be used and degraded and treated like a filthy, worthless whore. I wantto be physically overpowered and manipulated and made to feel helpless…
“Fuck…”I let out a ragged groan as my climax hits me in a hard rush.
I remove the pillow and lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, before rolling onto my back and glancing down at the spreading wet spot at the front of my briefs. The sight fills me with a rush of giddy excitement, closely followed by a mild sense of embarrassment that prompts my cheeks to flush warm. This cum thing is seriously so fucking weird…
I runa hand over my face and let out a sigh as I slowly dredge up my swirling thoughts. Feelings. Emotions. Assess.Right.
I grab my phone and read through Jazz’s instructions again, groaning when I see the part about writing down my observations.“What the fuck is this—high school bio?”
With a shake of my head I dutifully open my Notes app and list the things I was thinking and feeling during the…interlude.
But then I hesitate before listing the negatives. I was completely comfortable at the time but now that it’s over I’m feeling a little uneasy about being turned on by something so…aggressive. The fact that the reckless, dangerous rush is one ofthe things that appeals most is hardly a comfort. I ultimately decide to list them with asterisks next to each one.
To say the experience of watching the video is different to actually making it is the fucking understatement of the year. And theshift in perspective is so jarring I feel like I’ve been knocked over with a sledge hammer.
The obvious reason, of course, is that there’s no Jazz in the video. So instead of being forcibly restrained and suffocated I look like a bitch in heat, desperately humping the bed with my head stuck between the pillows.
My face flames hot as mortification churns inside me. It’s not a bad feeling, though; more like the second-hand embarrassment you feel watching cringe comedy. There’s a thrill of excitement as well; that feeling I get when I’m being extra slutty or inappropriate. The illusion of the fantasy might be gone but I’m still fucking the bed and moaning like a whore, and I’m about to come in my briefs…
Once I’m done with the video I add mythoughts to the list and send everything through to Jazz.
Jazz Grimsay
Good morning dirty boy. And I mean that literally, obviously. Those pillowcases look expensive…
