A couple of weeks ago, Girl on the Net posted a great piece about her three magic sex words: I’m gonna come. Those definitely do it for me too, both for their simple hotness and, I think, because when I first started having sex they always came as the most wonderful surprise. You’re going to have an orgasm? Really? And I did that to you?? Even now that I’ve got used to that feeling, “I’m gonna come” remains an aural trigger for something that’s happy and joyful, as well as arousing.
That’s not what I want to write about today though. I’ve made it pretty clear in previous posts that I identify as a switch: I get to top far more regularly than I get to bottom, but in an ideal world the split would be close to even. However, that doesn’t mean I enjoy the same things in both roles. Nipples, for example: biting yours – yep, great, bring it on; having my own bitten – I’d really rather not. Same goes for stripping: when I’m feeling submissive, not much turns me on more than having to strip slowly at another’s command, but as a top, watching you strip does far less for me than a bunch of the things I can do once I’ve got you naked and vulnerable. There are countless other examples, and that makes total sense; we like different things with different people, and in different power scenarios too.
There is also plenty of crossover though, and one of the biggest areas involves my four magic sex words, the ones that always make me feel light-headed and shivery.
“Don’t come. Not yet.”
A bit of background. A few years ago, I was involved with a married woman. She lived in a different part of the country, and we only got to meet up in person a handful of times, but we spoke on the phone almost every day. She would get home from work, go to her bedroom, and call me; some days I’d be home too, but often I’d still be at the office, or on the bus, or even just walking around town.
On the days when we were both feeling horny, we’d get each other off over the phone. I would always take the lead in those conversations, and they usually built up in roughly the same way.
“Please…I’m so close. I really want to”
“No. Don’t come. Not yet.”
It didn’t really matter what fantasy I was describing, or what filthy words I was whispering to her while she touched herself. The point would always come where her breathing got ragged and desperate, and she would ask me – beg me – for permission to come. And I would always say no. It would be “no” the first time she asked, “no” the second time, and probably “no” for a fair while after that.
Sometimes I made her listen to me come before I allowed her to do so. I would tell her to thrust her vibrator all the way inside and just hold it there, then I’d stop talking for a bit and just stroke my cock, knowing how much harder the sound of my orgasm would make it to keep her own in check.
I mostly let her decide what to do with her fingers and toys, though not always. What I was really interested in was controlling her orgasm. I got so turned on by the feeling of power it gave me, and by the trust she placed in me when she allowed me to make that decision for her. It was like a drug: every time I said those four words, my dopamine levels would spike and I’d get a surge of pleasure rushing through my body, especially when she cursed me or called me cruel and heartless.
I still get that same satisfaction from keeping someone right on the edge and not allowing her to come, especially if I know her body well enough that she doesn’t have to tell me when to step in and pull her back.
However, these days I also absolutely adore having those roles reversed. I hate it too, of course: when I’m so close that I can feel the pressure building in my balls, the last thing I want to do is stop…and that’s the beauty of subbing for someone who knows my body and my limits. I might not want to stop, but that becomes secondary to the desire to please the person to whom I’ve surrendered control. Not because I’m forced to do so, or because I’ll be punished if I don’t – no, that desire exists as something positive, active, and rooted in my own free will. I can choose to ignore it at any point, and that’s what makes it sexy – the realisation that I don’t want to. I might be desperate to come, but I’m even more desperate to be a good sub, and to do as I’m told. The act of choosing to do one thing, right at the moment when my body is screaming at me to do another, is what makes being told not to come so much hotter than anything involving chastity devices.
So it doesn’t really matter which one of us says those four magic words:
“Don’t come. Not yet.”
Whether I’m feeling dominant or submissive, whether we’re together in person or playing from a distance, they do it for me every single time.