I stood while Sa’afia knelt, as we’d said we would. I was still wearing my suit, while Sa’afia was naked, holding onto my thighs for affection and support, with her mouth on my cock, earnestly sucking. Her face rubbed on the woollen hems and zipper of my fly.

My hand rested on the back of her head, still holding her hair. That controlled her movements, though I mostly let her choose how deeply she took my cock, moment by moment, and set her own rhythm. But sometimes I pushed her head onto me, and held her until she showed discomfort, for the pleasure of making her feel compelled. 

I don’t think anyone can be truly unhappy in my situation. But I was finding it quite lonely up there. 

Sa’afia was fully engaged with my body. With my cock in her mouth, my hand on her head,  my thighs to hold and lean on, and her ass and upper thighs glowing warm with the stripes I’d given her with my belt, she was surrounded in me. I was all around her.

But Sa’afia wasn’t all around me, only my cock. She was doing her best, and she had every right to expect to be appreciated, but I wasn’t going to come.

I pulled on her hair. Sa’afia made a questioning noise. “Up. Get up, girl.” 

Sa’afia stood, and looked, questioning, in my eyes. She was wondering if she’d disappointed me. If she thought she had, she’d want to be punished. That’d be fine, and fun, usually, but there was still the problem of not wanting Ana to hear. I whispered, “I don’t want to come  too quickly, girl.” Sa’afia smiled, but only for a second. I pushed her onto her back, on the bed. She squawked, a little too audibly.