How long Can You Last?

Surely she can’t hold on for much longer?

It’s been nearly an hour, surely? The way she’s rocking her hips and swaying with every touch, as if guiding them to where she needs them… I’m certain she won’t be able to hold on for another minute.

Just a moan, a plea, a whimper. That’s all it would take for it all to be over, for them to stop the timer and give her the touch she craves, to remove the restraints and let her masturbate as much as she wants while those hands touched everywhere she longs for.

I know how it must feel, that deep ache as if from a part within that’s buried far from view, like a secret yearning to be told that only you can speak forth. That searing heat, an inferno from inside that scorches all over, yet you need it to burn more fiercely. Just a little hotter would surely be enough… yet it never is. That throbbing need for more, feeling filled only with a desperation, a yearning for anything more than just the swelling, wet emptiness that grows with every touch and temptation.

Yet still, she remains silent while her body clearly screams out with need.

Their hands glide along her skin, avoiding the areas that the lingerie barely covers between her legs. She wishes they’d touch her directly, yet instead, the multiple hands gently stroke along the erotic curve of her lips, her mons, letting her know they will not stop teasing her.

On her upper body, hands and fingertips outline her nipples, circling her chest, ensuring that her lingerie feels like a prison confining every sensitive and aroused inch of skin. Her body, spread-eagled and restrained, is never given a moment without countless fingertips pressing and stroking against her. The blindfold keeps her fantasising about how many people are tantalising her. The headphones ensure that she constantly hears the sounds she wishes she could make – the moaning, screaming and sighing that she’s holding herself back from eliciting.

I know how much she wishes they’d just pinch her nipples once, to give them a moment of relief, or maybe even just a fingertip to slide along the crease of her pussy once, or a firm touch to her clitoris. I know she must be thinking that, if they do that at least, she’d take that as a benchmark, the moment to finally give in.

The lingerie seems to cling even more tightly against her sex now, outlining every detail of her desire. How hasn’t she started screaming out for them to please touch her directly?

‘How long can you last?’ The title of the game show had previously left me answering “However long it takes to win the prize money,” but now I’m not so sure. Even with an unknown number of contestants, all vying to win the prize money by lasting the longest without making a sound, I thought it’d be easy. Now I understand why the previous contestants seemed to barely last more than fifteen minutes. I wish there were a way of knowing how long had passed. That, of course, was intentional, to make the torment so much harder to handle.

I can almost feel those palms gliding along my body while I hope they at least squeeze my chest. The soft fluttering touches of the fingers, easing up and down those thighs, along those inner thighs, mercilessly teasing, I can imagine thrusting my hips, praying internally for that thirst to be quenched for just a moment with one slick finger.

I hope she’ll give in any second now… because I don’t know if I’ll be able to last as long.