This Assignment by Anonymous

Feeling a little apprehensive and perhaps just nervous, I probably did a few more things than I needed to before lying in the bed. Arranging things, moving objects where they belong, two trips to the kitchen to look for a snack. I feel like I'm traveling into unknown territory with you. Not that I haven't acted on feelings of submission before, but somehow there's something different enough about this that I felt a little apprehensive. Actually apprehension is not quite an accurate term for this feeling. It's not broad enough. There is an anxiety yes, perhaps born of fear, as in "what am I doing?", but there's a broader set of emotions fermenting that don't quite lend themselves to accurate description.

Finally I got into bed and began thinking about this assignment.

"Tonight, I want you to imagine being observed. Not touched. Just observed. Imagine that I'm standing in the doorway, watching you. Imagine that I'm stretched out on the bed beside you, comfortable, watching your hand move on your cock, learning how you handle yourself, whether you pull, squeeze, stroke. Pay attention to what you're doing. Which is what I'm seeing. Because you'll be describing it to me. I'm going to ask for those images, those details. I want to know."

In no time at all there you were, standing in my doorway, actually, you were leaning against the door jam silent, watching. I know what I'm supposed to do and I actually felt a kind self consciousness imagining you there. I moved the covers aside and lay down and as I did the thought came to my mind that if you were there, you might ask me to be naked when I did this. I got up and removed everything and lay back down on the bed, naked, exposed.

At first I kind of arranged myself on the bed, got comfortable, getting myself ready to do this for you. Amazing how many muscles you need to move to get comfortable sometimes. I look down and focus for a moment on my soft cock, reaching down to pull my balls from between my legs. They lie now comfortably over my thighs. I realize, oddly, that I rarely look at my cock while doing this, but I'm looking with your eyes, seeing what you would see.

Touching myself, gently running fingers over the underside to try and wake things up. Trying to focus more on the feelings and the fact that you're there somehow while I do this. I can't remember any time in recent memory when I've done something like this. Actually, when you put together each and every detail, your requests, the fact that I'm here now doing this because you told me to, this has never happened to me. That and picturing you casually laying next to me watching this has my cock becoming harder.

I wrap my hand around my cock and begin moving it slowly up and down, pulling on it slightly. You're there next to me, your eyes on me. I'm doing this for you. I want you to enjoy what I'm doing, I want to make myself hard for you so you'll enjoy this. Then the first rush of feeling hits causing my hand to move faster. This is how it proceeds, slowly at first but stroking faster when a wave of feeling comes over me. I notice my muscles tensing, my hip move up towards my hand at one point as a moan escapes my throat.

You do touch me. Your hand in my hair like you do, gripping it firmly as your lips come close to my ear whispering breathy encouragements now and then. Your voice a kind of light, sing-song wind in my ear. You like what you see. It feels good to do what you I tell you. "I'm going to find more dirty things I want you to do for me." The sound from your throat resonates through my mind in waves cresting against my cock and sending yet another surge through me, your voice leading it on. You know exactly what you're doing to me.

My hand begins to stroke faster as wave after wave of burning adrenaline rages through my bloodstream. There is an inevitability, a driving need has been created and I'm barely in control at this point. I'm not in control. You're doing this. You gave me specific, detailed instructions. Words that roll through my brain over and over urging my hand to stroke faster and faster.

I can't seem to stroke fast enough now. Things have reached a different level. My mind scours the situation for an image, a thought or set of thoughts that will drive the whole bus over the cliff. Out of the blue, your leg swings over my head and you lower yourself onto my mouth. Facing down my body you continue to watch me stroke myself while I almost instinctively begin to pleasure you. Your sex dripping wet over my lips. My hand strokes as fast as I can until the moans again escape and my body convulses as the most powerful, deep rooted orgasm I've had in weeks lays into me.

I want to say thank you for that... but it wasn't for me.