Dueling Plans

Emily and I had some wine on Friday night, relaxed. I'd showered, and had an idea, and as we were going to bed, I leaned over and said, "Want to make out?"

Emily looked at me with a weird look on her face. "What's your plan?" she asked.

"My plan?" I responded.

"That was weird," she said, "what's your plan?"

"I...I don't know," I swallowed, terribly afraid I'd misread the situation. 

"I mean, you just give me a look and say, want to make out, I'm just asking your plan?"

"I...I don't know if I had a plan," I said.

She snorted. "You had a plan," she said, "it was to try to awkwardly seduce me, make out, hope I unlock you, and enjoy the results."

"No," I lied.

"Yes," she replied.

"Em..."

"The thing is, love, I too have a plan."

"You...you do?" I asked, suddenly hopeful.

She chuckled again, held up a finger. "I doesn't involve unlocking you," she said.

"What...what's your plan?" I asked.

"You getting out some candles, the bottle of coconut oil, and giving me a long, erotic massage."

I swallowed. "What...what about..."

She smiled, reading my mind. "No, love, not now, not for awhile. If...if...I unlock you before sending Evan, I want you desperate."

"D...desperate," I said, already desperate.

She smiled. "Desperate, desperate, so this, love," she reached over, tapped my small, inch and a half, pink chastity cage, "stays soft...and small." She undressed, stretched out on her stomach, looked over at her shoulder at me, "massage," she said.

I was shaking while I got out candles, not from nerves-massaging her was one of the most erotic things I could do for her-but from knowing how aroused I'd be.

And I was.

As usual, I teased her as much as I could stand, massaging first her back, then her ass, her legs. I moved closer and closer to her pussy, avoiding it as long as I could stand (I wanted to touch it so much) and even then, just lightly brushing against her, pulling back when she lifted her ass.

Of course, she teased me as well, touching me with her foot every time she could.

Even licking her, I teased her until she'd had enough, looked down at me, growled, "suck my clit," she commanded.

"Why," I said, feigning innocence.

"Because no one ever did this better than you."

"Not even your boyfriend," I managed to ask.

"Not even my boyfriend," she said, "he's much better at other things, but not this, no one licks my pussy like my girl does."

After, we kissed and cuddled; she cupped my breast, cupped me between the legs. "It's not a punishment, you know," she said.

"I know."

"You sure?"

"Yes," I kissed her, "it...it's better small...feminine."

"You always seem happier this way."

"I am," I said, "I never wanted to be the man...I mean...I tried...but I always wanted to be your girl."

"You are, Sara, you are."

"He can be the man in your life," I said.

"Our lives," she said, "the man in our lives."