My boyfriend, Ron, and I had been fighting for several weeks. He had become jealous and possessive and demanded to know my whereabouts 24 hours a day.

I secretly resolved to move out when our lease was up a month later. At the same time I began to deny him sexual privileges, eliminating the pleasures he so prized and of which he was so jealous. Realizing he had been cut off, he quickly went into a blue funk and became sullen and moody.

Deprived of sex, he would, I hoped, get the message and decide to move out on his own, saving me the trouble. Instead, his sexual frustration only made him more jealous and cantankerous, and I went ahead and signed a lease on a new place and prepared to move.

On the morning before my impending departure I arose early, took my shower, and went back into our bedroom, totally nude. Ron had not seen me naked since I had begun to withhold sex from him; he had just awakened and lay in bed smoking a cigarette. I ignored him and casually went about getting my undies from my dresser, knowing that he was watching and that I was inflaming his lust. After a few minutes I told him that I was moving the next day and that he needed to speak with the landlord if he wanted to continue the lease.

Ron was stunned, and demanded to know why I had concealed my plans from him. I sat in an armchair and Ron was at my side instantly, his fully aroused

Turning my back to Ron, I let him look at my firm ass as I stepped into my panties, pulling them up slowly. Turning to face him again, I told him that my mind was made up and I was definitely moving the following day. Still on his knees, he seemed about to sob, and in a hoarse whisper he asked me to “make love” to him “please, just one more time.” I told him that sex was out of the question and that I was about to go out to do some shopping. I had delayed putting my bra on, and now did so, bending slightly to let my big tits swing up into the cups.

At the age of 28, this wasn’t the first time I had teased a man I knew to be sexually frustrated, and Ron’s temper tantrum wasn’t unexpected. As he ranted and raved I slowly dressed. His cock, ordinarily slender and pale even when erect, was now red of shaft and purple of head, and it jerked in involuntary spasms. He had seated himself in the chair, and his erection stretched up his lower belly as he glowered resentfully at me, hoping, I presume, to tempt me with his manliness.

As any woman knows, a badly teased penis is virtually worthless for sexual intercourse. Ron’s would have been lucky to have slipped more than an inch inside me without having a very premature and very nasty (after all this time) accident. Although he definitely would not agree, his cock was best left to the care of his own skilled and patient hands in a quiet, solitary session of masturbation, an event I knew would occur as soon as I left the apartment.

I dressed and was quickly out the door, Ron’s tantrum having ebbed into self-pity. I felt free and sexually powerful at having left a man near tears and in a fit of frustration because he couldn’t have my body. I had not teased and left a man broken-hearted in several years, and I relished the ego boost it had given me. The way I had teased Ron (in the nude) was both wicked and cruel, but he brought it upon himself.