The hardness and the softness, that delicious friction, a slippery wet sensation of pure sexual delight. How the anticipation gives way to unstoppable urges, the way the pulsating heat invites and intoxicates. Every tremble and shudder, every pulse and twitch, feeling how deep he’ll be within her, feeling how softly she’ll wrap around him. The pleasure resonates deeper and deeper, thrusting and churning within, and that is before he is even inside her.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

On December 16th, the longest story I’ve worked on will be uploaded. It features a number of the longest and most detailed erotic scenes tied together in one long novel-length story. The story itself is about 50,000 words long. Afterwards, the erotic scenes themselves are presented in an easy to access, standalone manner for any time you’d want to simply get straight into the fun stuff.

It’ll be uploaded to Smashwords.

If you’ve ever wanted to support the content further, you can find my Patreon at patreon.com/pleasuretorture.

On there I post polls, early access to stories and you have priority say on what would next be worked on, as thanks for the support for the work posted on here.

The novel-length story (Drawn by Desire) will be uploaded within the next week. It has been years in the making however due to procastination it’s about 4 months worth of work spread over such a long period of time. The next large story saga will be a much faster process due to using Patreon as a means to upload sections every couple of weeks moving forward.

The Masseuse (Part III)

If they both knew how much they’d be internally screaming out with need for an orgasm, they would never have denied themselves throughout November. It seems foolish now to have passed on the opportunity to masturbate when these skilled hands tormented them beyond reason.

The man’s entire body was already tingling with anticipation when he had first arrived; his mind was too focused on the pleasure to come to pay much attention to the second massage table in the room. He was asked to undress and lie on his back. The moment he stripped and laid down, the masseuse instantly returned and began caressing his upper body. His lower body remained covered by a towel. Even though the masseuse’s warm, oil-coated hands massaged only his shoulders and chest, his length instantly began to stir. The month of abstinence – two months total without a full orgasm – meant that all he could think of was the masseuse’s hands reaching under to stroke his cock. Just thinking of her stroking him, sucking him and riding him instantly sent a surge through to his manhood. He wanted her to whisper to him that she was going to fuck him, to impale herself on him, that knowing how desperate to come he was made her wet just thinking about, and how it aroused her to fuck men in this state.

Instead of fulfilling his fantasies right away, the masseuse simply continued to massage him wordlessly. Even the previous sexual audio, which filled the room with moans and cries of ecstasy, was absent.

Just as he began to wonder why things were so different and why the masseuse’s previous accomplice wasn’t present, another person entered the room, followed by the accomplice.

Continue reading The Masseuse (Part III)

The Masseuse (Her November)

(His November)

Another person’s fingertips trailing over her body is all she craved. She’d happily give up a month of masturbation in order to feel the sensations she had enjoyed at the massage parlour. The prospect of submitting to the stimulation in that way, with every touch and every caress focused solely on her, was too enticing to pass up.

The ruined orgasm played on her mind throughout November. For the first couple of weeks, she focused on the frustration, how her pussy convulsed in longing for so much more and how the sense of emptiness that the ruined orgasm brought remained with her. She wanted those cruel fingertips back where they were, teasing her clitoris and penetrating her intensely, squeezing around them as if it were her body pleading for them not to stop fucking her.

For the last couple of weeks in November, she instead focused on the joy that even the ruined orgasm brought. The sensation of pleasure lifted to the surface, and the jolts of ecstasy that slipped through the cracks of frustration.

Continue reading The Masseuse (Her November)