Most of this is true, and closely based on real experiences I shared with a girl I once dated.
We'd been fucking for a good 15 minutes or so and it... just wasn't working. I was having trouble feeling much sensation because my hard cock felt like it was just floating in warm butter. Nice, but not enough. Even Stephanie flexing her Kegel-enhanced pelvic muscles wasn't making a difference. And I could see the frustration in her clenched jaw and the sheen of sweat on her flushed, beautiful face - she wasn't feeling much either.
We'd been doing girl-on-top, and she leaned forward to kiss and bite my throat. Her long wavy, naturally blonde hair dragged across my face and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation overload I was experiencing.
"Hold still!" Stephanie snapped when I pushed to thrust up into her. I obeyed and she sat up in a cowgirl position on my pelvis and tried to bounce up and down. I let my eyes wander down her magnificent body as she moved, her long torso, core muscles flexing, hard pencil-eraser nipples capping her tiny, delicious breasts. She worked hard to maintain her body at this level and her long and lucrative modeling career was the reward.
She stared down at me, ice-blue eyes flashing with lust and hunger as she ground her hips, her hot pussy easily swallowing my throbbing 4" length of hard flesh. She wrapped her long fingers around my throat and began squeezing as she panted and picked up the pace. Stephanie was great at dirty talk, so hot: "Mmmh.. Yeah, choke the shit out of you, you little bitch. C'mon, give it to me. Give me what I want. Give me my orgasm, slut." Her grip tightened and I labored to draw breath, fighting the urge to gag and cough as she choked me. I wheezed and looked up lovingly at her. She only got herself up and down the short length of my shaft two or three times, unfortunately, before I slipped out and she bounced down awkwardly against me. Disappointed, she paused to reach down and put me back in to try again.
I started to say something, to offer to change positions but she adjusted her grip from my throat and clamped her hand over my mouth effectively shutting me up. Her fingers squeezed my face, and her knuckle occasionally blocked my nostrils, cutting off my breath. I squirmed to adjust but she pushed harder. The feeling of suffocation was driving me wild.
"I said hold still!" she gasped between her bounces, and I slipped out again. "Fucking little useless cock." She muttered, but then corrected, "No. No, it's not your fault. I can do this."
I think she may have been talking to herself though, the way an athlete self-motivates before the big game. Stephanie was successful at everything and this situation was no different. In the boardroom, in life, in bed - there was nothing she couldn't do. Her confidence had taken her far in life and it was going to get us through this too.
After a handful of attempts, she shifted her technique, instead grinding and rolling her hips back and forth. But I couldn't stay in even at this angle. Now, she ended up with her wet pussy sliding back and forth on top of my hard little shaft.
"Goddamn it...," she swore.
Stephanie was in charge, always. Out of the bedroom, she ran the relationship and there was no questioning her authority. She made the decisions, seeking my opinion only occasionally, and I was expected to fall in line and obey and there was hell to pay when I didn't. When we first started dating, I tried to buck her control, assuming she was looking to test my masculinity - such as it was - or challenge me in the hopes of finding a powerful man to submit to.
"You've been reading too many magazines," she laughed when she found out. We'd been arguing constantly, unhappy and full of friction and resentment. It wasn't until it became clear to me - she was the alpha, expecting my acquiescence and submission. This was a role I was happy to fill, certainly more comfortably than chafing at trying to be dominant and alpha. She laughed when I finally explained, and it was a huge pressure relief, like a steam valve threading to burst the pipe, opened just in time. "God, no. Just let me run things. I'm good at it - trust me, it will work best this way."
It was an easier transition that I expected and since that day, things had been great. She ruled, she commanded, she sometimes punished. And she fucked. She always fucked me, and was quick to correct my language if I slipped and reversed our roles.
"You're the girl in our bed, honey. And out. Just relax and be what you are." And so I did.
But occasionally it led to moments like tonight, where the rhythm was just off, and she in her frustration, tried to fix it. It never worked, but this was her way of handling it. And here I was, on my back, looking up into her eyes, long locks of her blond hair cascading down around her face and swinging wildly, as she fought to force her orgasm. Finally, she seemed to admit defeat and rolled off me with a frustrated sigh.
We lay quietly for a moment, me gently testing the places on my neck where her long, strong fingers had clamped down. There would be bruising, I knew - this wasn't the first time she had tried to choke her orgasm out of me. Usually, she was more successful...
I glanced over to see her eyeing my cock, which was still hard and gleaming with our juices.
