Girl on the Net

If there’s one thing economists can agree upon it’s that if you reduce the supply of any given item, it’ll probably increase demand. Remember toilet paper at the start of the pandemic? The best way to increase demand is to drastically reduce the supply. So if you want me to truly beg you for a firm, solid portion of your exquisite cock, the best way to achieve that goal is to gimme that dick like it’s rationed.

Give me your dick slowly, like you’re eking out every single inch. Wait, scratch that: every millimeter. An ‘inch’ is far too large a portion for our purposes here. Gimme that dick like it’s rationed – not inch by inch but millimetre by fucking millimetre.

I am a big fan of delayed gratification. It used to drive my ex up the wall. I think he thought it was a puritan thing, or a habit born of childhood poverty – that I’d string out pleasure rather than swallow it all in one go, or plan things months too soon so I could spend my time looking forward to them. For me, though, delayed gratification comes hand-in-hand with hedonism. Wanting to wring as much joy as possible from each little pleasurable moment that I’m lucky enough to encounter in my life. Surprises are lovely, for sure. But anticipating things is its own unique delight.

Eating that bar of chocolate slowly, square by square. Saving the bottle of champagne Cava for an evening when I feel like I deserve it. Experiencing the very first stroke of a fuck not in a swift-and-brutal half-second but over the course of ten or even more: not inch by inch but millimetre by millimetre.

A man is coming round to fuck me on Monday. The excitement of knowing this is physical and intense: as I type out these words, I can literally feel it in my cunt. I have texted him in advance, asking him to give me his dick nice and slow.

I have not said, in those exact words, ‘gimme that dick like it’s rationed’, but that’s what I mean.

Give me your dick like I am only allowed a bit of it, lest I go mad with joy. Give me a portion of your cock like you recognise how precious the whole of it is. When you understand how much of a treat it is to me, then and only then can you dispense it slowly enough to maximise my babbling gratitude.

One of my most intense, zoomed-in wank fantasies right now is the idea of someone holding their cock just inside the entrance to my cunt – the taut, solid head of it stretching out the ring of muscle, only partly soothing the ache that I get when I’m desperate to be fucked – and holding it there.

And holding it…

And holding it…

Perhaps gently moving in and out (millimetres, remember? Not inches) but never giving me more than the tip, while holding a firm thumb to my wet clit until I squirm and beg and plead with him to just please please put it in me. In my fantasy, he waits like that until I’m on the verge of tears then plunges in, and the sudden shock of being given what I want causes my body to flood with relief, the waves of release pushing tears from my eyes and a shuddering climax through all the nerve endings from my brain to the depths of my cunt.

Maybe he presses a thrumming bullet vibe to my clit first, nudging me towards the verge of a much-needed but still frustrating only-semi-fucked orgasm until the first tear starts to roll down my cheek and I tell him I’m close so close oh so close please just fuck me fuck me now. But he holds off, displaying a willpower that seems to my frustrated self like it borders on actual cruelty, until the first spasms of that orgasm start to grip me – then, and only then, does he give me the full, fat length of his cock. Allowing me to clench and spasm around something hot and solid and satisfying.

I know it’s kind of a vanilla fantasy, and I only flag that up because sometimes people expect me to be kinky all the time. But being a perv doesn’t always mean using twelve different toys and a whole bottle of lube every time you get shagged – sometimes it just means allowing yourself to revel in the urgent details of one single fuckstroke until you lose your actual mind with want for it.

Gimme that dick like it’s rationed.

It doesn’t have to be the first stroke, by the way. That’s the best stroke, obviously: that’s the one that relieves the ache of longing I’ve been nurturing as we make out and touch each other and I get all weak and trembly for you. But other strokes can serve a similar purpose. Are you flagging partway through a fuck? Worried that if you dial down the pace I’ll be shaken out of the trance you put me in when you began to bang me in the first place? Don’t worry – you don’t need to continue pounding away like I’m concrete and you’re the jackhammer hired to destroy me. Stop. Pause. Slow down. Breathe.

Then give me the next stroke so slowly it shocks me into begging you for more. Wait for it. Pause. Take your time. And if you time it right I might whimper and weep for it.

Give me your dick like you know how precious every single atom of it is to me.

Give me that dick like you’re not yet sure if I deserve it.

And I will do anything to show you that I do.