Last night I convinced my husband to come to bed with me (cum in bed with me is more like it) and while we were playing (yes, playing ~ sex should be fun!) around, I decided to roll one of his nipples between my thumb and forefinger. (He loves it when I do this.) Considering that this gentle manipulation (and manipulation it was; I know very well that stimulus X produces result Y…or rather, result O) occurred while we were in the middle of a laughter-filled romp, the resultant shudder and thrust from the Mister were both amusing and endearing. (Said shudder/thrust happened mid-chuckle, which sort of sounded like a hiccup…and what woman doesn’t want to be hiccupped at while providing her partner pleasure?) And I know from experience that this reaction leads to bigger, better, *faster* things.
So I did it again.
Until the sparkle in his eyes was more heat than humor, and the pace was more…erm…gallop…than trot.
“Hon,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“Umnh?” (I was half way to an orgasm and trying to concentrate on driving him insane. So you’ll just have to pardon my simplistic vocabulary. Words were the last thing on my mind.)
He stopped. (Stopped!)
I looked up, confused. “Unh?” I inquired.
Why the hell did he stop?
“Hon,” he repeated. More sternly this time.
I gave him my most impish grin. “Yes?”
He sighed. “I think you’re ma-nippl-ating me.”