On Being Quiet, Permission, and Last Week

It’s been nearly a week.

Nearly a week since his hand ripped my panties to the side and his fingers found my clit as I sleepily spooned with him in the early-morning hours. We had to be quiet; my very Christian sister and her equally innocent boyfriend were sleeping in the next room. But I writhed against his touch, his breathing in my ear. We had to be quiet, but I wanted him hard and fast and loud.

In what felt like a “god I want you too” moment, he sat up and swung my hips around so I was on my back. My panties were off and he was between my legs with his tongue. For the first time. And, for me, for the first time in a long time with anyone. There’s just something so personal about that, I usually stop a guy from going down on me, and I never ask for it. Maybe as a result, I’ve never really had good oral. I’ve had ok oral, but until last weekend, I never really enjoyed it much.

I didn’t stop V when he pulled my pussy to his mouth. I closed my eyes and focused on every lap of his tongue, trying not to moan for fear that my sister would hear. I felt him slip a finger into my soaking wet pussy, then two or maybe even three, as he licked my warm clit. I ran my hands through that beautiful long hair that I love so much and gasped, “Don’t stop,” barely audible.

And he didn’t stop as I came for him, my hips bucking against his face as he sucked my clit. God that felt so good as I came and he sucked harder, his fingers deep in me…and before long I was cumming again, even harder.

I usually ask for permission to cum. There’s no overall rule that I have to. Many times, he’ll tell me that I’m not allowed to cum until he says so, but we don’t have a general rule that I always have to ask to orgasm. I just usually do because…I like him to have that power. It is a comfort to me to submit to someone in any way, be it orgasm control or something non-sexual. When I have a bad day, thinking about it or focusing on that helps me stay calm and clear.

But that night, nearly a week ago, I didn’t ask or permission to orgasm. I couldn’t ask. I would have screamed it, I would have cried out and woken up my neighbors, much less the people in the next room. Man, I hate being quiet.

“Are you going to take care of Daddy?” he whispered, snuggling back beside me after I came the second time. Before he was finished asking, my lips were around his hard cock. I hope I made it hard for him to be quiet too.

About Rori

Rori is the founder of Between My Sheets. She works full time as a writer, reviewer, and online educator and can be reached at rori-at-betweenmysheets.com

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