Every little moan makes it somehow even stiffer, harder. You wonder if she can feel every pulse and twitch the same way you feel every convulsion of her pussy as she comes so intensely once again. You forget how many times you’ve reached the edge, how often you’ve come so close, that silky, slippery, wet little entrance caressing every inch so tightly. All you know for certain is that you won’t stop. As long as she can scream, she’ll take it. Every time she says she can’t come anymore, the next orgasm proves otherwise, which makes every hard thrust and little squeal of pleasure that much sweeter.
Continue readingTag: erotic
Uncertainty (5/5)
The fifth time, that burning torment turns into an inferno, a raging fire that consumes you. The feeling takes over everything. No longer fantasizing about the situation or scenarios that would turn you on even more – all your focus is between your legs and the joy which that part of you would feel if given the chance. Finally, you feel that little bit of penetration that you crave. This time you come.
Good girl.
Harder than you imagined, the surprise making you gasp as the orgasm hits so intensely. Then, just as you want more, it slows down, not letting you ride it out for as long as you hoped.
It’s the penetration that captivates you, the mixture of sensations that melt together. Your clitoris is on fire, but not one that you want to put out yet, keeping it going, stoking it further. The next time it stops, forced to edge again, it’s worse. Now that you’ve felt that heaven between your thighs, you have to have so much more. But still, you are made to reside on the brink again and again until you can no longer take it. Once it’s absolutely too much, then you’ll feel what you need most, and it won’t stop… but not a moment before.
Continue reading Uncertainty (5/5)Uncertainty (4/5)
The fourth time, that ache of need turns to a burn, that sensation that fills you throughout. It won’t be quenched until you get it, and that’s when you start to plead for it.
Those fingers, those toys, are always able to tantalize you to the very pinnacle, working you like the finest instrument and playing the perfect melody. Right on the edge, if only something could press just inside, or just against your swollen clitoris merely for a moment more. But no, it stops once again, leaving you to beg. Such an erotic thing, begging someone to let you orgasm. Begging to be granted the wonderful release of pent-up pleasure that you need oh so much.
Continue reading Uncertainty (4/5)Untitled (3/5)
The third time, that sting of need starts to swell to an ache. The little murmurs turned to moans. You know how those sounds turn me on, and you start to hope they make me show mercy. Deep down, though, you know they won’t; the more you moan, the more I want. The harder it gets, the closer you feel to coming, the more you know that you won’t climax this time. This time, when it stops, you start to ask for it; that’s when you know we’ve truly begun…
Continue reading Untitled (3/5)I don’t want to devour your pussy just to make you come right now, I do it so that it’s what you think of every time your mind wanders, every time you daydream and fantasize. Day after day, night after night, never leaving your thoughts.
Continue readingThose minutes at the fastest and most intense. It isn’t about making myself come, it isn’t about making you come. The real drive is, just for a moment, to know and feel exactly what you are feeling right now. Every moan, every scream, feed off it then hunger for more. Just don’t stop while your pleasure becomes mine.
Continue readingDecisions
The little gasps of pleasure that you imagine him eliciting from you. All those delicate touches, those firm grasps, those tender strokes, your fingers trying to replicate each and every one. Repeating each scene you want to linger on, holding yourself on the edge as you try to keep every thought of penetration held in slow motion. Keeping yourself held back and on the brink of orgasm is the closest you can get to feeling that aching desire right against your core, the kind that only the anticipation of sex itself can give. Those thoughts of him masturbating you, of going down on you to prepare your pussy for his length, to feel his cock pulsating within your grasp as he whispers what he’ll do to you. It all keeps building that deep longing for penetration.
You don’t let yourself come, not yet, not while you can still focus on thinking of just what your pussy would be making him feel. How you can imagine the same sensations coursing through every throbbing inch of his shaft. In your mind, he makes you come so many times, yet still, your fingertips ease back to prevent the first. His mouth, his cock, his fingers… which will you come for first? You want to wait until the last moment – until it’s too much for your body to handle — before you decide… or at least your body decides for you.
Continue reading Decisions
What thoughts coat your mind as your essence coats your fingertip?
Will you slow down to savour the moment? Or will you speed up to embrace the satisfaction?
Do you think of someone else with you, or are you imagining watching someone else?
Will you still be in your lingerie, or will you be stripped entirely?
Soon, you’ll allow yourself to find out.
Designed for Pleasure
Those brief moments while you lie there, hands tied, blindfolded, thinking back through the day and realizing how many people would have wanted you in this position. So many eyes lingering on you, undressing you with their gaze, fantasizing about penetrating you in so many ways, daydreaming about those gorgeous curves hidden behind the fabric concealing your frame.
If only they knew how many times you’d strolled past them, merely hours after having teased yourself relentlessly, brought yourself constantly to the brink of that orgasm. You wonder now and again if that’s what they see in the back of their minds when they greet you or smile at you, that girl writhing in agonizing ecstasy, hips bucking as those fingers explore such a dripping wet, quivering delicacy, breasts heaving as you arch in a glorious scream of orgasmic bliss.
Now, you’ll be theirs. You wonder what you’ll feel first, his fingertips making a path from your neck to your sex, perhaps her hands caressing the outline of your body and exploring every curve. Those fingers, those mouths, those tongues, all ready to trail down your body and tantalize every segment of your sensitive milky white skin. You wonder when they’ll strip you, knowing how much everyone loves the way your lingerie clings so tightly, the way it tempts them even more to strip you and expose you. So helpless. Perhaps you’ll have to wait until you were begging for them to do it, to tear them off and just sink their mouths around that desperate pussy.
Soon, you’ll hear the sounds, the buzzing of the vibrators, ready to push your body to the brink. The sounds of the men stroking their cocks, wanting to feel just how tight and silky smooth it is to be inside you. The wet sounds of tongues lapping against your clitoris, trapping it to devour and suck it mercilessly. All those sounds are like background noise to your own tireless moans and screams. You won’t escape it. They’ll do everything they’ve wanted to do to you ever since witnessing you. And once they do let you come, once they have tormented you enough and brought you to the edge until it has nearly driven you mad with need, you will be forced to come until you beg them to stop. They won’t.
Every inch of you is designed for pleasure. Every hand around you is designed to lavish it upon you.
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The Need
Anticipation once again permeated throughout the room as the audience took to their seats. The previous nights had been so intense, watching her being teased constantly without the hope of climax. Perhaps this would be the night that she’d be given respite from the agonizing need. It was such a tantalizing affair to watch such beautiful suffering, such desire, knowing that the performer had been selected due to her sensitivity. She was paid very handsomely. However, this was a way to see something beyond an act, to see raw passion so fully exposed, pure, unfiltered desire laid open beyond any mere performance. They were here to see sexuality at its finest.
The slow, calculated bathing ritual was, of course, meant to arouse as much as cleanse. However, these last couple of nights had been pure hell even without their grazing fingertips; a glance towards her bare skin was enough to burn like a lick of flame. The silence was what made it all so much worse, particularly when she was on the stage. The intimacy of the small audience kept her aware of how every pair of eyes was constantly lingering on her body, letting her bask in the heat of the thoughts that must be racing through their minds. If the teasing touches from being bathed and prepared were like the ebb of the tide against her arousal, the man’s hands against her were like a tsunami crashing over her.
He had so much experience with teasing and tormenting his targets, honed to perfection and unleashed on this girl’s body all at once. The way his fingers trailed and played, caressed and penetrated. He always left the audience just on the brink as much as her, wondering whether she’d topple over, but he always knew when to stop. They had worked together for too long for him to make any mistakes, to not be able to read her little signs. They both wanted the same thing: for the audience to be able to taste the desire, to feel every pulse of longing. She wanted the men to feel that throb and imagine how it would feel within; he wanted the women to feel that convulsion and for them to moan in unison every time he entered her. However, as time went on, her attention veered from the audience and more onto herself as her mind joined her body in a desperate plea to climax. It was the same every day they performed, but as the week went on, it happened sooner and sooner. Though each time she whispered for him to please let her come, she was met with an audible ‘no’, loud enough for the audience to know what she’d asked and to let them revel in her sweet despair.
When his rock-hard cock was inside her, the tension was palpable. Every thrust seemed as if it would be the one to throw them over the edge; every wet slap of penetration was expected to be joined by her screams of release, yet still, they both held on. He had also spent just as long as her without orgasm, though he loved it, the way it made him feel so stiff and full and how much more it added to the show. It was, after all, all about the show; their pleasure was the centre stage. That was why, when she gasped that she was about to come and the audience held their breath in anticipation, he withdrew and simply motioned ‘no’. Leaving her on edge as much as the audience, perhaps tomorrow he’ll be at the point where his will would be broken, where the desire to show off the art of lust wouldn’t outweigh his desperate need to come. She, however, was already beyond that point. Perhaps tomorrow the artistic, sensual splendour of orgasm will be on display, but not tonight.
Continue reading The Need