“What do you want for dinner?”
“Ohhh, something yummy.”
“Yes, but what kind of something yummy?”
“I don’t know, something that you cook which is yummy.”
“Where do you want my cum?”
Now this one is slightly easier. When he is in my mouth I will nearly always choose my tits because despite the fact that I do love tasting him, when he comes on my tits I get to see it, both coming out of his cock which I find hugely erotic and then on my skin afterwards. If he is in my cunt I will nearly always pick inside me, because I love feeling his cock twitching in me and also it the thought that my cunt felt so good on his cock that it made him cum is fucking hot to me, but that does mean I don’t get to see it. So I could pick, on my clit, as the answer, but then I don’t get to feel it dripping out of me, but I do get to see it. Oh the choices and of course it is not really one of those things that you can take that long to ponder over, time is pretty much of the essence when a man asks you that question.
“Go and pick a toy from the bag for me to hit you with?”
Now as a general rule he picks, but now and then this is sentence that will get uttered and my initial reaction is always one of a kid being given a special treat and I will dash up the stairs, sit on the edge of the bed and search through the toy bag with a smile on my face. Maybe this one, ohhhh but what about this, ewww not that one, that’s mean…. but as this is all going on in my mind something else starts to creep in; What does he want me to pick? Is this actually a test to see how brave I am? Am I meant to be picking something I like or something that will please him? Should I show him how strong I am by picking an evil toy? Which will please him the most? And on, and on, my brain goes, twisting and turning in a sea of over thinking that quickly turns my excitement into anxious indecision.
I have on occasion called down stairs and asked if I can pick two things, and usually he says yes, but all that does is narrow it down to one mean thing and one thing I love (or think I love, because he has an amazing ability to turn those things round on me in ways that makes me gasp and question everything I thought I knew about it) However, despite the battle with my brain I always pick but it is never easy. The choices just seem too many, the implications of what they mean too confusing. I fluster and flap and return downstairs with trepidation.
“Did I do it right?” I ask as I offer him my choices
“Bend over and we will see” he says with a wicked grin and evil glint in his eye