The Gift: Year Two

‘One orgasm this Christmas. I will return every Christmas with one extra orgasm each time. All you need do is lie back and close your eyes, just the same.’

You remembered the words. You didn’t need to be reminded, as they’d swum in your mind for the last twelve months. You hadn’t spent a single night not thinking about the way she was teased and seduced to the most intense climax of her life last Christmas.

As before, a note under the tree reminded her of the command: ‘Remember, keep your eyes closed.’ 

You masturbated so intensely for many nights since last Christmas, yet nothing could match the sensations that had been unleashed upon you last time. You hadn’t uttered a word to anyone else about it; this was your little gift and yours alone.

Finally, Christmas had arrived. As soon as you lie back against the mattress and close your eyes, it begins instantly.

Instead of feeling the cool fabric of the mattress against your back, you are welcomed by what feels like the warmth of a man against your back. Lying back against him, you try hard not to open your eyes, wondering if you’d see anything at all. But you don’t dare open them, knowing it would all stop the moment you did so.

The hands press to your wrists, keeping your arms pinned to your sides and slightly behind you as you remain leaning back in the warm embrace of his body. It makes you gasp suddenly to feel hands drift along your front, as if he were caressing you, his arms wrapped around you. Unlike last year, where you imagined multiple people surrounding you, this time you picture more than one set of arms extending from his torso to restrain you and caress you at once.

Those fingertips trail up and down your sides so slowly, purposely avoiding your nipples and between your legs. Instead, they outline the curves of your chest, your waist, your thighs, and your shoulders, easing you gently into this slow rhythm of ecstasy. You wish he’d kiss or nibble your neck, maybe whisper something to you, or even touch you more intimately. Those fingertips continue easing down those same paths until you begin arching your back against him.

Suddenly, he stops, letting your wrists go at the same time. Because he doesn’t touch you anymore, you take this as your cue to touch yourself. At first, you press your hands to your chest, giving them the firm squeeze you had hoped for. Instantly, he pulls your hands back away and holds them again behind you, returning to touching you in just the same way as before.

Those fingertips seem to paint the most detailed portrait of your body with every touch, outlining every inch without ever adding the finishing touch of pressing directly where you need it most. As soft as skin could touch, those fingers continue to ease around you without any sign that you’ll receive more intimate attention.

The anticipation of how intense it felt last year, coupled with the slow teasing around your breasts and down your body so deliberately, ensures that your body is already burning with need.

Once again, your hands are released. This time, you touch yourself in the same way, easing up and down and around your body to tantalise every inch of skin without giving in to your deepest urges.

Minutes pass, simply caressing yourself in the same way that you do to yourself at night when you want to see how long you can tease yourself. However, you’d have given in long before now when you were this turned on. Finally, the pair of hands joins in, also caressing your arms and shoulders, your upper back and sides.

You feel that deep, gushing heat between your legs start to take over. You need to feel more. As soon as you just sweep your thumbs over your pussy lips, the hands once again pull yours away to hold you in place.

You give a deep groan of frustration, uttering the word ‘please,’ as the hands return to continuing to tease you. You’ve never been more aware of how stiff your nipples are, how alight with sensation your pussy feels, the tingle of need between your legs turned to a swarm of longing.

Once your hands are released again, you know that you must obey, otherwise you’ll be screaming with need soon if this carries on. You follow his motions, gently gliding every fingertip against yourself in the softest manner, only barely touching, soft enough to nearly tickle, yet devastating every part of you with absolute longing.

Finally, giving you just a little of what you need, the hands start focusing a little closer to where you yearn to be touched. They circle around your nipples and ease along your pussy lips.

Shaking in need, your trembling fingertips follow in their wake, fearing your hands will be snatched away once again. Thankfully, you are allowed to replicate their touches. As much as it tortures you to caress so closely to where you are desperately in need of attention, it’s still wondrous to touch yourself like this at last, knowing mercy will soon enough be granted.

You’d spent months dreaming of this, having your erotic lover lavish you with touches and kisses along your body, fantasising about his mouth wreaking havoc on your hot, swollen, dripping wet pussy. Perhaps if you recalled more about how much you were teased and tormented last year, you’d have understood that you’d not get quite what you wanted. It was clear that this entity of lust would ensure the utmost cruelty was granted. The realisation once again made you shiver in arousal.

Once you finally start to beg for him to touch you, you feel your wrist being held, guiding your fingertips down your cleavage, slowly down your body and over your pussy directly. It takes everything in you not to simply finger yourself, rapidly, to relieve the pent-up need that threatens to burst. You simply follow the same gentle strokes, masturbating yourself slowly while he continues to glide his hands all over you.

Several other hands join in, sliding up your ankles, along your legs and over your waist while you still feel him press warmly against your back. You fight the urge to open your eyes, wanting to ensure this never ends. The constant attention to every part of your body while you stroke yourself quickly has you boiling over to the edge of orgasm.

Just as you hit the pinnacle, your hand is pulled away. Your murmur of frustration is overtaken by a little moan of pleasure as his fingertips circle over the tips of your nipples. Before you can even start to rock your hips to signal the need for more, your hand is released, allowing you to work yourself to the brink once again.

As if reading your mind, the moment you are about to plead to be allowed to come, his hand presses to your mouth, muffling your words to merely a whimper of desperation. This simple action ignites something within you, delving into a deep fantasy that urges you to stroke yourself faster, relishing in something within being brought so effortlessly to the surface.

Once again, just as you get to the edge, your hand is pulled away.

Time and again, you are allowed to bring yourself to the edge this way, stroking yourself until your hand is pulled away. Every time you are about to cry out and beg for mercy, your mouth gets covered, muffling your whimpers and ensuring your body burns with excitement.

Something about edging yourself in this way makes it so much harder to handle. Forced to torment yourself by your own hand is a cruelty you could never have prepared for, no matter how much you tried throughout the year.

You just wonder to yourself for a moment what you’d see if you could open your eyes without it all ending, wondering if you’d see multiple hands caressing your body, or if they would be invisible, or even if they’d be attached to multiple people lifted right from your fantasies. The thoughts are quickly replaced with the focus on the man you are leaning against, as his mouth presses right against the side of your neck.

You hit the brink instantly while his warm mouth kisses along your neck and along your shoulder. This time, he doesn’t force you to stop.

You explode. Your orgasm cuts through you as your scream pierces through the hand that suddenly clasps your mouth. This action, this little display of dominance over you, seems to make you come even harder. Your hips rise off the mattress a little, your pleasure unleashed while your body longs for more of what it was deprived of for so long.

As you start to slow down a little, your rear sinking into the mattress while you push your back against this mystical lover, his hand grasps your own to continue at the same pace. He ensures that you continue masturbating at the same speed, riding out your orgasm beyond what you could do to yourself, verging on being too intense, yet overwhelmingly erotic.

It doesn’t stop, even long after you need it to. All of the other hands keep you held in place; your other hand once again gripped and pulled behind you.

Just as you are about to plead for it to stop, to at least give your sensitive clitoris a rest, a pair of fingers slides into you. You gasp as it feels like it knows exactly where to touch you deeply to make you squeal in ecstasy.

As your pussy contracts longingly around those wonderful fingers, your hand and your lover’s from behind work your clitoris in unison while you shake your head, trying to signal that it’s too intense.

Feeling mouths caress either side of your neck and along your shoulders, just as a hand once again clasps over your mouth, sends you crashing into the reality that another orgasm is building within you. You want to scream, your entire body wants to scream out in a storm of blissful release, yet the hands pinning you in place and the one covering your mouth all seem to trap you within yourself. It’s like it is causing the ecstasy to well up within, a stopper trapping your climax as more pleasure bubbles up.

Suddenly, knowing you were right on the cusp, the hand at your mouth moves away, letting you fully cry out as your orgasm bursts forth. The fingers inside you remain motionless while your pussy trembles around them, seeming to squeeze every ounce of ecstasy and friction from those intruding digits. Thankfully, the hand coaxing your fingers to stroke your tender clit begins to slow down.

Somehow, the second orgasm felt even more intense than the first. It didn’t seem to last as long, yet it left you breathless. As you come down from the plateau, the hands all around you seem to stay pressed against you. The man behind you remains motionless, letting you breathe deeply and relax into his embrace.

A fingertip gently and unexpectedly grazing over your hypersensitive clitoris shocks you, making you open your eyes. Suddenly, it’s just you alone on your bed, now able to reach down and press your hand to your overly sensitive sex.

As you ponder whether you’d be able to work yourself to another orgasm before the night is out, being so filled with arousal and fantasies, you notice the note beside you.

‘Two orgasms this Christmas. I will return every Christmas with one extra orgasm each time. All you need do is lie back and close your eyes, just the same.’