When Betty slipped the condom onto Michael without penetration, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Anyone witnessing a condom being put on would assume what was coming next, but Betty was just facilitating Michael’s masturbation, which eased my concerns significantly.
Despite the failed attempt at masturbation last night, Betty hadn’t given up.
She thought adding the lubricated condom might improve the experience.
However, Betty didn’t understand that by using the condom, she was blocking the direct contact between Michael’s penis and her hand, which could have been more stimulating than the barrier of latex.
As I expected, Michael looked disappointed as Betty masturbated him with the condom on.
His disappointment grew visibly, turning into boredom, and eventually, his erection began to wane.
Betty’s hands were sore from the effort, and as she felt Michael’s penis soften further, she knew something was off.
Men’s penises typically soften post-ejaculation, but Michael hadn’t climaxed.
Betty had to stop and shake out her hands to relieve the fatigue, turning to look at Michael only to see his disheartened face.
With a sigh, Betty admitted her plan had failed.
Dealing with Michael’s robust libido and stamina was challenging.
After another sigh, she got up and straddled him just like the night before.
Facing away from him, she spread her legs on either side of his body, her vulva slightly parted, just inches away from Michael’s penis.
Throughout this, her vaginal opening grazed Michael’s glans several times.
A slight thrust from Michael could lead to penetration, but he held back, waiting for the moment he had long anticipated, even with the condom.
But disappointment struck again.
Betty pressed Michael’s penis down and sat on his groin, moving gently, rubbing her labia against his shaft.
This time, the condom added a nearly invisible but impenetrable barrier between them.
Michael’s disappointment deepened.
The friction was less satisfying than the previous night’s direct contact.
After having tasted something more intimate, the current experience felt like a step back.
His interest faded, and his erection, already weak, diminished completely, becoming as limp as a deflated balloon.
"What’s going on today?" Betty asked, turning to Michael.
She usually preferred silence during these moments, but his unusual performance was too stark to ignore.
Both were disappointed; at least an erect penis would have offered Betty some consolation.
These were her private thoughts and feelings, ones she wouldn’t voice to Michael.
Michael covered his eyes with the back of his hand, silent and brooding, much like Betty had been moments before.
His chest heaved with rapid breaths, a clear sign of his inner turmoil and anger, which had now stripped away any remaining interest.
Betty’s method of maintaining a "distance" was causing Michael both sadness and distress.
"Why aren’t you talking? What’s wrong?" Betty, noticing Michael’s demeanor, realized he was upset.
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She had an inkling of the reason but wasn’t sure, concerned that all her efforts and sacrifices to improve Michael’s behavior and grades might be undone.
"Can’t we just go ahead and do it?" Michael finally blurted out, his voice shaky not from excitement or nervousness, but from sheer anger.
"We agreed, didn’t we? Penetration is absolutely off-limits..." Betty responded, then turned her back to Michael, missing the frustration on his face and the anxious tone in his voice.
"Not even with a condom?" Michael asked again, a hint of hope in his voice.
"No..." Betty was firm, her boundary clear without a hint of hesitation.
"What about like last night, without the condom..." Michael, still seeking some middle ground, suggested reverting to the previous night’s activities, hoping for a more intimate contact.
"That’s not possible either. Even without penetration, there’s a risk of pregnancy if you ejaculate. How would I explain that to your father? Everything would come out..." Betty was focused solely on the secrecy and safety of their actions, completely overlooking Michael’s growing frustration.
Especially when Betty mentioned his father, Michael couldn’t hold back any longer.
He removed his hand from his eyes, his gaze intense and filled with anger, which even scared me a bit.
He wouldn’t lose control and assault Betty again, would he?
The conditions were too favorable for him; all he needed to do was remove the condom and overpower her with his strength.
"Just go back, we don’t need to do this anymore... I’d rather just masturbate..." Michael finally said, exhaling deeply and pushing Betty gently by the waist, signaling her to get off him.
Betty turned around, her face a mix of confusion, disappointment, panic, helplessness, and a touch of sadness.
Betty looked at Michael, puzzled for a moment before understanding dawned on her.
She bit her lower lip, clearly conflicted.
A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, uncertainty about her next move evident.
But after a moment, determination replaced her doubt.
She somberly rolled off Michael and knelt on the bed facing him, unsure of how to begin, her eyes filled with anxiety as she faced the visibly upset Michael.
"Michael, please don’t push me. I’ve really tried hard and sacrificed a lot of my dignity. Can you at least leave me this last bit of respect?" After watching Michael for a while, Betty finally spoke, her voice laden with a plea for understanding, hoping Michael would relent and ease her burden.
"Hmph..." Michael’s response was a soft snort.
He turned his face away even more, as if he couldn’t bear even the peripheral sight of Betty, completely dismissing her plea.
Seeing Michael’s reaction, Betty finally broke down.
She bowed her head and began to cry silently, hot tears rolling down and dripping onto her ample breasts.
The tears pooled momentarily before sliding down onto her thighs.
Betty’s crying was heartfelt, a release of long-suppressed sadness, not a show for Michael.
It was evident she was genuinely overwhelmed by her emotions.
Michael stole a glance at Betty, a flicker of compassion crossing his eyes.
But after a moment’s hesitation, he closed his eyes, unwilling to witness Betty’s tears.
He covered his ears with his hands, blocking out the sounds of her sobbing.
Betty noticed Michael’s reaction.
A look of resolve flashed in her eyes.
After all she had given, this was how Michael treated her.
Perhaps, Betty thought, Michael only saw her as an object of desire, devoid of any maternal affection.
With that realization, Betty stopped crying.
She turned away indifferently and sat on the edge of the bed.
Slowly, she began to dress herself with the clothes Michael had recently discarded.
Her movements were sluggish, as if she had lost all faith and hope.