Whatever you want

 I lead you to the bedroom and relieve you slowly, gradually of your clothes, murmuring endearments as I unbutton, unclasp, unzip, drawing the fabric across your skin slowly and deliberately as I unwrap you like a precious gift.

When the last shred of fabric is gone I pull you gently to the bed. I arrange you there on hands and knees. I gently position your knees until the space between them is precise. You work with me earnestly to take precisely the position I have in mind.

I press my hand softly on the sweet skin between your shoulder blades and you understand that I mean for you to drop your face to the mattress.

You're on the bed now in the position I've chosen for you, the side of your face flat against the bedspread, your ass raised high over spread thighs.

It is an unambiguous position. You can't write like this. It's not a comfortable way to watch television. You're not going to arrange yourself this way to have a beer.

No. This position is about sex and only sex. You're posed to be mounted like an animal, taken from behind. You are exquisitely vulnerable. In this position you can be teased, touched, pleased, spanked, penetrated, filled, used. There's nothing coy about this. There's no artifice. In this position you are primed for fucking.

I am still whispering to you, telling you what a good girl you are, praising the way you do just as I ask, reminding you of my love.

I can touch you now, here, as I whisper fantasies in your ear. I can ask you to imagine yourself bound and made to come over and over for hours. I can ask you to imagine the taste of my cunt on your tongue and the pleasure you bring me. I can ask you to imagine yourself a schoolgirl offering yourself up in hopes of a better grade.

Your ass is raised high over wide-spread thighs. Beside you I catalog the ways I want to touch you. I share my favorite memories. I outline options, what I might do with you now, in this vulnerable, exposed position.

You know what I'll feel when I finally touch you. Your eager, needy cunt will be slick and wet for me, your thighs sticky, your need made manifest. I'll praise you and call you beautiful and try to tell you how much I love you as my fingers play along the lips of your cunt, feather touches over your fevered flesh. Your whimpers make my clit throb.

The reality of your need will swell and fill the room.

Will I cherish you with words, tell you how precious you are to me, as my palm falls down upon your ass with a hard smack, over and over? 

Will I get behind you and worship your exposed, needy cunt with my lips and tongue?

Will I penetrate you with your toy, pressing the tip against your g spot and gradually increasing the vibration level as you come over and over?

Will I slip the toy into your mouth to lick clean, to suck, so I can watch you sucking cock, and will I direct you to close your eyes as the toy, the cock, slides in and out between your lips, and will I slip my fingers into you from behind, filling your imagination with the sensation of two cocks claiming you, filling you, using you?

Will I lie down beside you and look into your eyes as my fingers penetrate you gently, find the sweet spot inside, and begin slowly, slowly building toward orgasm as you rock your body back, needing to be filled and fucked as the need to come builds?

I pose these questions to you, there in that room, in that vulnerable, exposed posture. I don't expect you to articulate a preference. Maybe, just now, you're not able to choose what you would prefer.

"Whatever you want, Miss Gwen."

If this were a contest, that reply would earn you victory. It can be heard as a denial of desire, as an expression of indifference. Sure, Gwen, do whatever you want, but be quick about it, won’t you? There's a television program starting soon and I'd really hate to miss it. I need to start a load of laundry. I don't really care what you do in the meantime. Whatever you want.

Clever you.

But I hear the words otherwise. I hear in them a desire to be the instrument of my pleasure, a willingness to explore any of the options I listed, or any more I might conceive. "Whatever you want" is a blank check. It is limitless love and trust. You can say it and mean it only if you know I will not exploit this vulnerability you're sharing. This is not the boastful "whatever you want" of the one-night stand, the fantasy girl who will make you forget other women for an hour in a rented room. There is no fantasy here. This is the simple truth. You love me, you trust me, and in your exposed naked vulnerability you mean it: whatever I want.

I come hard as the full import of your words floods through me.