Failing At The First Hurdle

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He stopped midway through applying the condom and looked at me like I was stupid. His expression said it all.

"Save the condoms for fucking, babe," I explained. "We've only got the three."

"I thought we were gonna fuck."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "We are...but I thought I might bring you some relief, first. I'll use my mouth if you promise to warn me when you cum this time. Or my feet, I know you like those."

"Thanks, but it's cool," he was breathing fast, already obviously imagining himself inside me.

Which was of course the problem, "I just can't wait to fuck."

Well. I'd tried to be diplomatic, but...

"And I want a fuck worth having, Jacob."

He looked at me dumbly, like he didn't understand. And annoyed, too. He's a cocky guy, Jacob, and his ego is easily nettled. But I'm a no-nonsense sort of gal, and if he didn't want to take the hint I'd have to be blunt:

"You don't last long enough on your first go. You never have. You just can't hold the first load very long; the only times you last on the first try is when you've already jerked off in the bathroom."

Which he didn't do anymore. He wasn't perfect on the second go either, but with enough foreplay it was good enough to make me cum...although he was getting less and less attentive there, too.

I had the feeling he had tried hard to impress me early on, but now that he felt secure, he was slacking off. Best to remind him of his place.

"So either let me get you off, or get yourself off, so in ten minutes or so you can do the same to me. And don't waste a condom on a fuck that'll never please me." My voice was firm. Bossy. The sort of voice that got boys to sit down and shut up, or made them burn to prove me wrong, to prove themselves against me. Sometimes I might want either.

Sometimes they got the wrong idea.

"Bullshit. I can totally last."

"Bullshit yourself, you never have yet."

"I can do it, babe!" I stared at him; he looked furious, determined to prove himself. To make me eat my words. And yet his cock was already leaking precum, as if hinting at the bullshit behind his facade. But fine, if he wanted to be a macho man so badly:

"Go ahead then." I spread my legs.

"Huh?"

"Go ahead then, idiot. Rock my world. Show me what you can do, bring out this secret stamina that you've supposedly been hiding, and I'll apologise and thank you nicely and do what you want for the next week. Come on, loverboy. Make me respect that dick."

And I beckoned to him with my most seductive smile. There was uncertainty in his eyes, but I could tell he wasn't about to wimp out now.

Wimping out would take at least two minutes.

On went the condom, like a totally inadequate suit of armour. Maybe one of those fancy ones might work better, the super thick ones with extra numbing gel, but I'd tried slipping them into the rotation once and he'd thrown them aside for 'feeling weird'. Once the protection was in place he slid over and lay down atop me, positioning the head of his prick against the sweet wet tightness that was gonna be the death of him.

"Take this!" he growled, and shoved himself inside me.

I have to admit, I cried out then. Of course I did. I was wet enough to take it easily, and his dick game wasn't that bad. Like I said, once he'd had a few minutes to recharge after the first go, he was actually pretty good. He followed up that good, strong first thrust with a good, strong second, and then a third for good measure. With each one I moaned, loud and needy, my pussy loving the feel of stiff dick pushed hard inside it.

But it wasn't his size or his technique that was the problem, was it?

For a minute or so, he held me down. Pushed me to the bed, kissed me hungrily and pumped me just the way I like it. I bet he was feeling full of himself, like he was dominating me, like he was proving me wrong with every stroke. And if he could keep it up for ten or so minutes, he would do.

"You like that, huh? I'll teach you to mock this fucking dick."

"Don't stop," is all I said.

But of course he did. The urge to rush in, to pound at top speed right away and prove me wrong about him, went hand in hand with the lack of control that made me doubt him in the first place. And if I had riled him up a bit on purpose, well, it's not as if I ever actually thought he could win this.

It was about teaching him a lesson.

Sure enough, in the second minute, he began to slow. The kisses stopped coming, and I saw a look of concentration on his face. A concentration that turned to panic. "J-just a second," he said suddenly, going completely still.

"Not a chance," I smiled widely as I wrapped my legs around his back, "You were going to show me just how good you were, weren't you? All that manly stamina. You were going to teach me not to mock this," I pumped my hips up, "fucking," again, "dick!" and again I threw myself against him.

To his credit, he didn't cum. But his movements now were slow and shaky, a far cry from the strong strokes before. Weak little stabs that would never please me.

"Fuck...fuck..." he whispered.

"Maybe it'll help if you think about football?" I suggested in a mockingly sweet voice.

"Fucking bitch." He gasped, wishing he could say it from a position of dominance and strength instead of trembling and wide-eyed and desperately trying not to humiliate himself inside me.

"That's me," I whispered. "Now are you gonna fuck me or not?"

He drew in deep breaths, struggling to compose himself and control that traitor cock. He pushed in again, harder, though not as strong and confidently as he had on that first hot minute.

"Fuck..." he whispered, urging his cock as if it understood English, "don't cum...don't cum, dude...don't-"

"Uhhhhhn!" It was a pathetic whimper for a pathetic act, a premature spurt that left his cock wilting and sticky and forlorn in its now oversized condom. He cursed as he came, failing utterly in his promise to rock my world, spewing out his embarrassment with bitchy moan after bitchy moan until he was empty. With one pretty foot I pushed him out of me, then smiled gently up at him.

"Do you see now? You don't stand a chance," seeing how broken he looked, I softened, "come on, just wait ten minutes, get it up again and fuck me right. Finger me until then. I, I'll even let you cum in my mouth to make up for it-"

"Fuck you!" he snapped, pulling his pants on. I stared as he got dressed, not quite believing what he was doing.

"Wait, dude, don't be like this, I'm sorry, I-"

Wait, why the fuck should I apologise? "Dude, are you seriously not gonna get me off too? Come on, get over yourself-"

"I said fuck you." He muttered, the epitome of fragile male pride, and slammed the door behind him. I heard him stomp down the hallway and leave.

Oh well. Shaking my head at his fragility, I reached over to my bedstand and took out my vibrator. I don't hold with the idea that toys are just 'better' than the real deal, but if Jacob was going to let me down like this then I didn't have a choice.

No, my vibrator's not the same as a living, breathing partner, but it has no ego to bruise and, supposing you keep it stocked with fresh batteries, it doesn't ever tap out early. My poor, unattended pussy cried out for satisfaction...

And if Adam and Eve hadn't worked out, then Florence and the Machine would have to do.