Your favourite little game. You are always pushing one another to the breaking point while trying your best to control it, to push those feelings down just a little deeper than her. You try so hard not to climax before her, but hearing those moans and feeling the gyrations and little trembles makes it much more intense. 

Does knowing exactly how she is feeling make it easier? Or harder? 

That burning pleasure rising constantly within you, the wetness around your fingers a signal of the orgasm you want to release; you need it to overcome her. Perhaps this time, when your thighs clench, and your moans turn to gasps, that’s when she’ll give in and come. If not, can you last another moment rocking on the edge?

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There is nothing I love more than eating you out, feasting on that tender delicacy of your sex. To me, it is better than penetration, an intensity that can not be matched, to have your most sensitive little area entirely at my mercy.

How I can control every aspect of what you feel, the tightening of your thighs and the shuddering of your hips letting me know precisely what you are feeling. An act that is solely about pleasuring you, entirely about giving your body what it desires most.

The most erotic action there is – to have my mouth parting your pussy lips, my tongue exploring your wetness, almost able to feel your pussy melt around my maw. There are many terms for it; to go down on you, to eat you out, to perform cunnilingus, oral sex, yet nothing quite captures what I always want to do to you. Your moans and screams simply say it best. 

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: Nubile Films

You couldn’t wait to be their model, every gorgeous line and curve forever gracing their canvas.

To be portrayed so helplessly while nature would not simply pose as the backdrop of your frame, but caress it, amplify it. 

When they began applying the oil to you in order to add that glistening sheen to the display, you admired their delicate touch. Once they began paying you so much more lingering attention, you couldn’t help but purr in pleasure. You tried to close your thighs a little tighter as if to quell the desire rising within you, though they told you not to, to embrace that sensation so they could paint you at your most erotic and sensual.

Those fingertips swept so tenderly across you, how you could feel the current building within, gliding along that stiffness, trailing across that wetness. You wanted them to do so much more to you, though they applied every last drop of the oil to your skin without letting a single fingertip sink within or press too intently. They simply left you internally begging for it.

You knew that once they began sweeping their brushes against the canvas, you’d feel like it was your own body those paintbrushes were gracing with their touch.

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It is all the little things that have such an effect. The way you can pull against those restraints, feeling that little bit of give. That fraction of hope that you can protect yourself, yet ultimately not being able to do so, adding so much more to your helplessness as I torment that most delicate place.

The blindfold keeps your imagination racing; even though you know exactly where I am and what I am doing to you, the darkness lets you fantasise about so much more. Your mind is free to linger on every fine detail of what my mouth unleashes upon your tenderness. 

With those panties left on, you have just one little layer of fabric protecting your sex. Of course, the reason I’ve left them on is that I want you to wonder – if it feels this good, this intense now, how is it going to feel when my lips are pressing deeply against your soft, exposed pussy. 

All these things come together to devastate every inch of you. 

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I know how it feels. That’s why I know, no matter what you say or do, that you want me to keep going until you finally manage to stop me with all your effort.

That velvety wetness around my fingers, those little convulsions, the way you arch and moan, the constant quivers every time it gets too much; you know it all just makes me have to keep going, and I know just how it feels to be the one enticing it further. Helpless to the desires, that is what we both are right now.

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I can only come once. I can only feel that sweet, explosive release of ecstasy one time before it’s over. Maybe another entire day before I get to build back up to that moment. That’s why we are here like this right now.

I want to take my frustration out on you. The frustration of being unable to come more than once while focused on your multi-orgasmic body. All of my attention is on making you come so much that I’m almost glad I can only come once.

How I masturbate you lets you know that I’m thinking of all the times I had to hold myself on the brink when fucking you. All the times, I had to withhold my orgasm because it would have been all over if I hadn’t. It was almost like a punishment for my cock, for being unable to climax multiple times. So now this is the punishment for your pussy in return.

So just lean back against me and keep coming just like that. Let me have a taste of what it feels like to be able to orgasm again and again.

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Image source from: thewhiteboxx

Patience

She wondered to herself, ‘Was it worth it?’

An eruption of pleasure. Twenty seconds of ecstasy. Her body was seizing, a sense of weightlessness, grounded only by the pulsating pleasure originating between her legs and spreading throughout every inch of her body. For that brief moment, Mia was no longer a solid being but a liquid entity unable to be contained. Only once the tide receded did she realise what she’d done and what was to come.

‘Was it worth it?’ – Seconds before Mia’s orgasm, and certainly during it and for a minute afterwards, she’d have said, ‘Yes!’

Now that Mia was suffering the consequences, ones that she had agreed to if she dared climax without permission, she’d argue that it wasn’t worth it. Not worth the need that coursed through her. Not worth the desperation that clouded her mind and sapped her body.

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