I’m trying to figure out how to write fantasy stories. DirtyTalkingGirl at Pussy Talk does it so wonderfully well. Inspired by her almost plaintive fantasy about wanting masturbating while her partner just watches (she says he always just takes over) I thought I’d try reversing the roles.

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Figleaf and Peach: attempted submission

This is not a story about abuse. Let’s just say we agreed to wrestle to see whether you were going to eat me or I was going to get to masturbate, for once, while you watched. :-) Not as crazy as it sounds — I really like all kinds of sex, but masturbating is sex too. Some people (ok, just one) can make love so often that after our week-long I’d love a chance to masturbate in peace so… :-) So we agreed to wrestle. If you won we’d do whatever you wanted, maybe more than once. If I won I’d get to do what I wanted. If either of us really wanted to stop we’d say uncle.

It wasn’t at all a fair match.

I’m bigger and quite strong but you’re no pushover (no kickboxing, please!) and you’d just come in from sunbathing in the privacy of the garden behind our summer cottage so you were slippery with an almost impossible-to-hold mix of oil and sweat. You could easily slip out of almost any hold I tried, plus (imp!) there weren’t many ways I can try to pin you without you getting exactly what you want anyway – a fact both of us know only too well! :-)

You would have left me too winded to resist, tortoise-ing past my hare, if I hadn’t finally had sense enough to grab the tie from my robe. The cotton flannel robe with the soft fat flannel tie I often wear at home when I’m up early or late. Hey, turns out flannel just soaks up oil and the little fibers have just enough grab to hold in place. I was never a boy-scout (or a wrestler, obviously) and it took a while to get the first loop around your ankle, but by then you were just a bit more distracted by giggles than I was so I was able to loop a wrist too. After that it was all over but the singing. I don’t know if I’d do this again, and I’m really not sure you would. And you hadn’t gotten a devilish glint and said “I bet I can get you to fuck me anyway” I’d have been the one to call it off but a challenge is a challenge and (dang it all!) I felt too stubborn to back down. Especially since you kept making erotic threats/promises and wriggling provocatively.

It’s probably the only way you’d let me and the only way I’d try, but that’s* how you managed to get there, kneeling between my knees and complaining about your lonely taunted lips as I stop lightly stroking myself and begin in earnest.

Taunted lips? How about taunting lips? You know damn well it would kill me to have you so near without letting you touch me. As I start to get close coming you coyly ask “wouldn’t you like to come in my mouth? Just aim here” and then you open your mouth and slip the tip of your softened tongue out. Wow, that would be nice I think, giving in. Just when I start to come you surge forward and, tied hand and foot or not, you totally defeat me. Instead of crying “oh, oh, oh” I come panting “Uncle! Uncle! Oh wow Peach! Mmm, oh, Uncle!”