Tag: lingerie

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.

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As much as I adore the lingerie you wear, I don’t take so long stripping you fully just for my own enjoyment. I keep you clothed for as long as possible because I want you to feel that longing, that deep yearning, before I strip you naked.

It’s not simply about your body, it’s about your presence and desire, which drive me to explore you so fully and so intimately.

I want you thinking to yourself, while anticipating me stripping you, that if it feels like this right now, how will it feel when there’s nothing standing in the way between your bare skin and my fingers, my mouth?

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The little details that can’t be seen. Those are what make you cry out the most.

The way my lips push forward against your pussy, pressing back enough of your clitoral hood to expose that tender morsel. The way your clitoris twitches in anticipation, blood coursing through it as it awaits the attention it craves. The way my tongue flickers back and forth in conjunction with the suction against you, trapping your sensitivity and whipping it so delicately yet so intently.

Yet there’s the most unseen thing that truly makes the difference… the thoughts in my mind – the desire to pleasure you relentlessly until you’ve had all you can take and then some more. To fulfil every fantasy with even just my mouth alone. Those desires that hide beneath the surface are what always ensures you’ll thrash, writhe and scream out in pleasure for as long as you wish.

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Every aspect of sex feels like an extension of masturbation.

The way you apply pressure only just enough. The way you embrace me as if anchoring me to this moment. The way you let escalate things so steadily, making sure that I know that there is all the time in the world for my pleasure to unfold and unravel.

Your fingers caress my fantasies, while my hips merely go along for the ride.

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We need the build up. We need the teasing. When pressing the Hitachi wand firmly against you and not moving it away, all of this will have been necessary.

The slow, steady teasing and pulling it away before you can truly get used to the vibrations. This is what helps keep you guessing what it’ll feel like when I truly focus on that one little sensitive place. All of this build-up helps ensure that when the vibrations are drilling through you, it feels far more intense than you anticipated. It’s all to make sure that the contrast between the soft start and the powerful ending takes your breath away.

By the time your hips are thrusting and swaying, I want to make sure that you couldn’t have imagined a level of pleasure so intense that you’d almost feel the need to escape from it.

After all, I’d never want you to think that I’m taking it easy on you.

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The Ghost Costume

The ghost outfit that Linda had worn for the Halloween party had long been removed, yet she’d have given anything for them to have stripped her of her lingerie by now.

It had been hours. Hours of being teased by the faintest of touches. Hours of the softest, most delicate touches along every inch of her body.

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…And Repeat

…And again, you moan in need. That familiar, euphoric surge emanates from between your legs through your very core as the vibrator once again presses to you. The pleasure becomes addictive, constantly circulating as you fantasise about every time before, about how intense it had been.

The same scenarios in your imagination present themselves, yet they become a little more intense than last. The gentle touches become firmer caresses, and the soft strokes become harder pinches.

The look of the device itself adds to the tremors within you. It is so sleek yet powerful, designed solely to press against your intimacy and bring you to the heights of human pleasure. Made to elicit the most extreme joy and ensure you absolutely scream out in ecstasy. You press it harder to yourself, the pulsating vibrations drilling deeper. You remember how intense it was last time. As your hips buck and your legs shake, you wonder if this will be the same or even more extreme.

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Anticipation: that tantalising, delicate tension in the air, the heartbeat fluttering in every motion, the prickling heat that first marks the inferno to soon engulf.


Anticipation is sexuality at its most primal, the moments before the fantasy of imagination meets the potency of reality.

A whisper of what could be. Until you finally feel its touch.

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