Tag: mf

Feeling the sensitive parts you want the most, the differences that will very soon unite you so intensely. The softness and the hardness, the firmness and the wetness. Feeling the same pulsing desire that the other can feel just the same. It’s these moments before which linger on your mind most afterwards. The more you explore, the more you want to be explored.

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Act III: Denial

The play had gained equal parts infamy and acclaim for its unflinching exploration and portrayal of human sexuality. While the plot traversed various time periods and scenarios, the explicit depiction of sexuality kept its many viewers engaged. Most notable was Act III, simply entitled ‘Denial’, which contained an extended period of orgasm denial for the scene’s leading actress. It was designed to represent the juxtaposition of society’s desire for female sexuality with its disposition to suppress it.

As the show became more popular, the strain on the cast became greater, as with any show. However, the lead actress for ‘Denial’ suffered the greatest. While the play itself featured such a long, extended duration of intense sexual activity, with her male counterpart making sure to keep her as tortuously close to orgasm as possible without sending her over the edge, the continuous run of the play was making it harder and harder to bear. In order to maintain the most believable and authentic performances, the director had made the actors consent to various things related to their performances; the female star of Denial had agreed to not orgasm at all throughout the entire run of the play.

At first, the few weeks that it was scheduled seemed feasible, though now that it was already coming to the first month, with so many extra dates added, the torment she experienced on a near-nightly basis was hellish, as were the nights which she had off, the constant internal fight against her urges. Though at least the audience always had the most intense, rawest depiction of denial possible on stage. 

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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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All I want is to feel your legs twitch in the overriding uncertainty of whether you can really handle what I’m making you feel.

I want you to realise as many times as possible just how helpless those cuffs around your wrists and ankles render you. I want you to be picturing from behind the blindfold all the things I’m going to do to that delicate, sensitive little place that my mouth is wreaking havoc upon, that my tongue is so tantalisingly exploring. I want your lips to soon tell me to stop while your body writhes in motion to ask for more. With your pussy so wet, quivering with desire, and so invitingly aroused, I want to penetrate you and feel your limbs pull in vain to close around me in a bid to control the force that thrusts within you so intensely, fucking you with such ferocity and intent.

With you all to myself, I want exactly what you want, to devour you. 

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