Gently Bitten

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It was early evening in a lonely hotel room-- business trips can be so boring at times-- so as I sat relaxing on the slightly overstuffed mattress, staring at the cookie-cutter wall art over the television, I slipped an idle hand inside my waistband.  And, after a moment's reflection, called up my favorite boytoy to keep him up to date.

He answered on the second ring.  "Hello?"

"Hi Johnny Toy.  I just thought I'd let you know what I'm doing with my cock."

I heard a quick intake of breath on the other end.  I knew he was at home alone tonight... and so, undoubtedly happy to hear from me.

"I'm lying down.  My cock is already hard, and I'm unzipping my pants to let it out."

I heard some hard to identify noises on the other end, and then what was definitely the sound of a zipper.  Part of why I knew he'd be happy to hear from me.

I leaned over the edge of the bed to rummage in my suitcase and pull out a bottle of lube.  I squirted some into my hand.  "I've got a handful of lube from a bottle just like the one you keep on the bedside table next to the telephone.  And I'm spreading it all over my cock, up and down the whole length, just getting it all nice and slippery."

As I suited deeds to words, I heard little gasping noises over the phone, and knew he was doing the same.  He was convinced... some part of him was convinced... that *his* cock was mine.  Somehow.

"I'm just... sliding my hand up and down my cock now... ooohhh, enjoying how good, how slippery it feels, can you imagine that?"

He was breathing raggedly now.  I'd spent a lot of time on the posthypnotic suggestions, with him.

"Ohhhh damn, it feels so good I just can't stop myself from speeding up.  Ohhh, my hand is going much faster on my cock now, Johnny Toy.  Ohhh..."

It wasn't just that he thought I owned his cock, though he thought that too.  But he had to do everything I described to him, when I told him I was playing with my cock.

"Now I'm stopping for a moment."

I heard sudden panting on the other end as he fought not to whine or moan or complain, as he held his hand still just like I told him.  I had stopped just to mess with him.

It was worth it.

"Maybe I'll stop here."

It was worth it just to hear his breathing.  He was *so* turned on, but so obediently trying to deal with the thought that I might not let him get off just yet.  That he would have to wait until it pleased me.  That he was just a toy to me, completely subject to my whims.

I couldn't hold it in myself, though, at that idea.

"Ohhh, now I'm starting again.  Oh god, Johnny Toy, I'm so hard still, so close to coming... Slow and slow and I can almost... Oh faster now!  Faster faster so good oh god COME!  NOW!  YES!"

I didn't even pay attention to the noises-- he had to spill out his thoughts when he came, and he was babbling something about always being my toy.  I loved it, but I just wanted to enjoy the afterglow for a moment.  And then--

"Well, I just thought I'd call and let you know.  Have a good night, Johnny Toy."  I hung up.

Communication is so important in relationships.