Your terms not hers

She is still on her knees, one hand wrapped around the thick, spit-slick base of your cock, the other pressed hard between her own thighs, openly grinding against the soaked crotch of her shorts while she begs. Her voice has gone soft and broken, every word dripping with need.

“Please… just put it in. My snatch is so wet for you. I’ll take it however you want—please…”

You let her keep stroking, let her keep pleading, while the heavy pulse at the root of your cock builds and builds. Your hand settles on the back of her head, not forcing, just steadying her in place. The first thick rope of cum catches her completely by surprise—hot and heavy across her left cheek, striping up toward her eyebrow. She gasps, eyes flying wide, but she doesn’t pull away. A second pulse paints her lips and the bridge of her nose. A third lands across her open mouth and chin, thick enough to drip.

You keep her there while the rest of it pumps out, coating her face in long, pearly ropes until her cheeks, lips, and the tip of her nose are shiny and dripping. A slow strand slides down to her chin and threatens to fall onto her tank top. She stays perfectly still, panting, eyes glassy, looking up at you through the mess like she has never seen anything more important.

You give her one last slow stroke with her own hand still wrapped around you, milking the final few drops onto her tongue when she instinctively opens for them. Then you ease her hand away and step back just far enough that the heavy, still-hard length of your cock hangs in front of her cum-streaked face—out of reach.

Your voice is calm, almost conversational.

“You’ll wait.”

She blinks, a thick drop of cum sliding down toward the corner of her mouth. Her thighs are still pressed tightly together, hips twitching with leftover need.

“You don’t get to ride this cock until I decide you do. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not until I want you to enjoy it. Until then you keep your wet little snatch to yourself and you wait like a good girl. Understand?”

Her throat works. Cum glistens on her lips when she answers, voice small and wrecked.

“…Yes.”

You nod once, satisfied, and leave her there on her knees in the middle of your room—face painted, shorts soaked, cock still hard and glistening right in front of her—while the quiet of the house settles back in around you both. She doesn’t move to wipe her face. She simply stays where you left her, staring at the thick, heavy cock she is no longer allowed to touch, waiting for the moment you decide she has earned the privilege of riding it.