"When you are pulling against the restraints… when your back is arched and your hips are writhing… when your mouth is open in a silent scream of tortured rapture… you will know that my work has begun".
Tag: male denial
They keep him held on the brink over and over, that constant pulsating sensation shoots through his body, threatening to bring him to his knees, to buckle to their whim. What started as a pleasurable bet, an erotic challenge, has become an exercise on his will. He tries desperately not to beg for them to let him cum, to keep his hands behind him and withstand it until they tire, yet every ounce of willpower seems to be directed at simply not letting his legs give way.
They feel that swollen length twitch against their mouths, bringing warmth within from simply imagining how it must feel, to have these inches of your body licked and teased to the brink over and over again. It almost makes them shiver in pleasure at the thought. Their soft lips press along his throbbing manhood, delighting in the pulse of it against their tongues. It lets them know that even though it isn’t enough to push him into orgasm, it is enough to keep him praying for it.
Feeling the throb as it gets closer. The pulsing desire flowing through like a volcano ready to erupt. The surge as every inch tingles in anticipation, knowing her lips can grant sweet release, or rapturous torment.
When you walk through the Erotic Halloween Haunted House you’ll see him, though you’ll have heard all of his begging and moaning even from the entrance. It certainly looks erotic, seeing him being teased to the edge constantly while pleading with all of his heart for someone to let him come. It feels as if he’s calling out to every single person walking through. You’ll think to yourself about how good the acting is, you’ll perhaps wonder if they keep him in that state for the duration of the night or let him rest now and again. You might even wonder if or when they let him come at the end of the night, but once you move along, the thought will pass and the rest of the venue will gain your attention.
If only you knew though, that this was not an act, that there was no relief in sight for this tormented man. Nobody recalls quite how long this display has been one of the focal attractions of the venue, whether it was years or decades. Yet every year it is the same, seeing his anguish at being stroked and teased relentlessly to the brink yet never allowed to come. Those hands caressing every inch of his shaft, massaging those balls so tight with the anticipation of orgasmic release. For you it is merely a sight to behold for a few hours of a single night. For him, it is a torture endured endlessly. Those deep groans and cries for mercy have all been pent up for these brief moments in the year, hoping that somebody may have the power to release him from this hell of denial. Trapped on the cusp indefinitely. Never aging, never needing anything other than the heavenly climax that has been withheld for years without a minute of respite. Maybe if you knew, you’d help. Or maybe you’d still walk on by in fear that if you tried to end his suffering, you’d take his place and suffer the same fate.