Tag: fingerfucking

Good girl. Take it until those hips are shuddering from the ecstasy.

It doesn’t matter whether you come. All that matters is that you adore every second of having me explore you.

We’ll sit outside, and I’ll slather you with oil. I’ll strip you and let you bask in being so exposed while out in nature.

I’ll massage you, I’ll expose you, I’ll explore you.

As I press my fingers up against that firmer little patch inside you, pushing upward and rubbing it directly, I don’t care whether you squirt. I just want you to let yourself go and give in to the sensations wreaking havoc within you.

I know that what makes you shiver in pleasure the most is that, under the sunlight, with me exploring you so intimately, as I delve so deeply, there is absolutely nothing left to hide. Exposed in every way.

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“Remember what you told us, ‘Please don’t stop making me come.’ We have had to remind you for the last fifteen minutes of this request. You can struggle as much as you like, but we’re going to keep our promise to you. When you stop coming, then we’ll know it’s time to stop. But for now, it doesn’t seem like you are anywhere close to that point.”

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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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The pure, undeniable eroticism of what we both intend. To know exactly how your dress so finely details those enticing curves of your femininity, how you know that the moment I see you, I’ll instantly be thinking of stripping you of it to reveal those delicate delights. The sheer sensuality of it, to always think that every time we are so close, only such thin segments of fabric separate us from what we truly desire.

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“If I was to tell you that I’m still going to make you orgasm another ten times, no matter how often those tears of over-stimulation roll down your cheeks, would it make it easier to take, or harder?”

She had wanted to explore so much with him. The promise of being restrained more securely than she’d ever experienced was too enticing to pass. Having a friend who understood her needs seemed like a blessing; it turned out that having him know her needs so well would be more like a curse.

They had planned to explore her desires for pain and pleasure, though when the first attempts at pain, inflicting little elastic-band-induced slaps against her feet, turned out to not be to her liking, his only other avenue was pleasure. While he instantly stopped when she signalled that she wasn’t into painful play, he certainly had no intention to stop when her orgasms became too much. The arousal caused by being rendered so helpless and exposed made her body so instantly susceptible to being completely overcome with pleasure. It only took a few seconds for his fingers and the vibrator to bring her to orgasm, though the whole idea was to fully explore the limits of her pleasure, and he knew that she truly wanted to have those limits entirely tested, no matter how much she begged him to stop. The more her tears of orgasmic torture streamed from her eyes, the more she screamed in overwhelming pleasure, and the more he wanted to make her endure the orgasms.

“I wonder how much more intense the situation feels now that you realise that I intend to make you come until you pass out?”

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