“Don’t move,” she whispered. “If you move, I’ll stop.” She had a stern expression on her face that told him she wasn’t kidding–whatever it was about him that made her come onto him in the bar downstairs, she could turn it on and off at will. That was… oh, fuck, that was fine. Whatever. If it meant that she was going to keep jacking his cock like this, playing with his, nnnnh… his balls just like that… yeah, he didn’t need to move. He could just relax and let her make his cock happy.
“That’s a good boy,” she cooed as she stroked him. “You didn’t need to move anyway. You don’t need to do anything but keep watching my eyes, keep feeling good. If you look away for a moment, down to my breasts, down to your cock, down at my hands, that’s just fine. No matter where you look, you’ll always return to my eyes sooner or later. Just watch my eyes, keep your stare focused on mine, and let the good, warm, sexy feelings flow through your body. It’s all that matters right now, looking into my eyes and feeling pleasure.”
He was a little confused. It was such a weird kind of dirty talk–it sounded more like she was trying to put him to sleep than make him cum. It was almost kind of frustrating–she kept teasing him, and her fingers were so good at making his balls feel so heavy and full, oh fuck his cock felt like a fucking iron bar… but, but she always slowed down right before he came. He wanted to cum, needed to cum, but she kept him locked in this loose, drifting pleasure and giving him the lullaby talk. He decided he was going to tell her it was time to go faster or fuck. “I–”
“Don’t talk,” she purred, her expression still that same mix of smoldering seduction and near-anger. “If you talk, I’ll stop.” His words dried up in his throat. He was so close to cumming now. He just needed a, a few minutes or a few seconds more to get over the top and spurt onto her tits. God, they were beautiful. He could be quiet a little bit longer, if that’s what it took to get off for her. He’d just look down at her sexy body, look down, and… and down, and down… the words seemed oddly familiar in his mind, like he wasn’t so much thinking them as remembering them. His gaze drifted back up to her eyes without him even realizing it.
“That’s my good boy,” she said softly, her voice wrapping around his mind like a soft blanket. “You didn’t need to speak anyway, not when listening feels so much easier. Everything else feels so much like work right now, and you’re too relaxed and happy to want to do anything but stare into my eyes and let my words fill your thoughts. It’s so much nicer to accept everything I say, let me tell you all you need to know while you just smile and agree. Your cock doesn’t need you to move, or to speak. Your cock only needs you to listen and obey. Listening and obeying makes your cock hard. Listening and obeying makes your balls heavy. Listening and obeying feels good.”
She punctuated some of the words, like ‘heavy’ and ‘good’ and ‘obey’, with more intense strokes. He shuddered with desire, his mind settling into a slow, euphoric fugue of bliss as she kept him poised right on the edge of orgasm. He just had to stay still and silent a little bit longer, just long enough to, oh god, her fingers felt so fucking good, he’d never had a handjob this perfect before. All he wanted to do was keep listening, keep… keep obeying? That didn’t sound right. That sounded fucked up. That sounded, sounded… he furrowed his brow, trying to sort out what felt so strange about her words through the fog of lust that clouded his thoughts.
“Don’t think,” she said. She smiled at him, but there was no warmth in it. “If you think… I’ll stop.” He knew she meant it. And he did the only thing he could. He stopped.
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