riot

but we both know how this ends.

you're going to need my voice. you need to hear me tell you you're doing so well. need my permission before your body will actually let you have it. need me cooing at you, praising you, telling you how good you are, how handsome you look right now, how proud i am of you for being so patient. your body has learned the difference between you touching yourself and me being there to help.

you've tried without me. i know you have. i know you've gotten yourself all worked up thinking about me and tried to finish on your own. and you get close. you always get so close. hips moving, sounds you can't hold back, everything building exactly the way it should. and then…nothing. that last piece missing. the thing your body has learned to wait for.

my voice.

my permission.

my hands or my words or just the knowledge that i'm watching, that i'm proud, that i'm right there with you.

so… go ahead. touch yourself. let yourself get desperate. let yourself get to that place where you're whimpering and needy and your whole body is asking for something you can't give yourself anymore. call out for me when you get there. use my name the way you always do when you're close and can't think straight. beg me to let you finish.

tell me how good it feels. tell me how close you are. tell me you need me. that you can't get there without me. that it's not the same. that nothing is ever the same without me anymore.

and i'll listen to every word of it.

and when you've asked me properly. when you've been good enough and patient enough and desperate enough. when you're right there on the edge with nowhere left to go.

i'll tell you you're my good boy.

and your body will do the rest.