Evidence of my shame

Mobile blogging on my phone so I'm going to keep this short so my fingers don't fall off from all the screen tapping. Last night Miss H got into some rather edgy mental play, the kind of thing that was straddling that deliciously fine line between ultimate eroticism and crippling emotional brutality. It was an amazing journey that often times had me unsure if I wanted to crawl up into a ball and cry or rip her clothes off and fuck her I was so out of my mind turned on. To have her push things to the edge, stop only long enough to keep me from falling, then push even further, had my mind spinning and cock leaking.

She refused to touch me or allow me to touch myself so I spent what must have been hours just slowly dry humping her leg rhythmically over and over again as her voice punished my mind. She eventually fell asleep, I'm not sure when, as I kept slowly pumping against her till the wee hours of the morning, being careful to not cum no matter how badly I wanted to.

I remember drifting off to sleep, one hand under her stomach the other laid delicately across her thigh as meek little grunts of pleasure escaped from my mouth. The warmth of her skin, the wetness in my panties, and the gentle sway of our bodies as this pathetic reenactment of my former pre-sissy sex life rolled on.