The Masseuse (Her November)

(His November)

Another person’s fingertips trailing over her body is all she craved. She’d happily give up a month of masturbation in order to feel the sensations she had enjoyed at the massage parlour. The prospect of submitting to the stimulation in that way, with every touch and every caress focused solely on her, was too enticing to pass up.

The ruined orgasm played on her mind throughout November. For the first couple of weeks, she focused on the frustration, how her pussy convulsed in longing for so much more and how the sense of emptiness that the ruined orgasm brought remained with her. She wanted those cruel fingertips back where they were, teasing her clitoris and penetrating her intensely, squeezing around them as if it were her body pleading for them not to stop fucking her.

For the last couple of weeks in November, she instead focused on the joy that even the ruined orgasm brought. The sensation of pleasure lifted to the surface, and the jolts of ecstasy that slipped through the cracks of frustration.

For much of the month, it was easy enough to avoid the things that could ignite her sexual thoughts. Being able to focus on other stimuli, such as work and her hobbies, was enough, though the quiet moments before sleep was where things began to get difficult. She often found herself caressing her legs and inner thighs while in bed, taking herself back to those moments on the massage table. Her thoughts while alone with her imagination led back to how the women’s fingers made her most sensitive points throb with aching arousal. As the first days passed along into the first week of the month, her thoughts centred more on a man joining in, imagining him delighting in what the masseuse was doing to her, how his firm and masculine hands could cup her sex and threaten to masturbate her to the brink.

As the first week crept into the second week of November, her instincts to touch herself became stronger. While she wanted to abstain from direct masturbation as she had been instructed by the masseuse, she still couldn’t help but admire her own sexuality by exploring the rest of her body. It was exciting to know how much of an impact the last month had caused, the build-up to the massage cumulating with that cruel teasing session. Knowing that it would be the next month again that she’d have to wait, yet knowing what stimulation was in store for her, was exhilarating. She wanted it now, yet knew the wait would make it so much better. Her focus in that second week was on her chest, lying in bed and imagining those hands caressing her upper body. The man in her fantasies would tease her nipples so cruelly, getting them as stiff as possible without giving them the mercy of pinching or tweaking them. She didn’t do this to torture herself intentionally, yet this was the closest she could get to feeling the sensations that would have to wait until November was over. She imagined them focusing on her nipples and, just like when she was enduring the massage, thought of them intending to cause her clitoris to swell and throb just as much as her erect nipples. The thought made her have to clamp her thighs together each night, both as a means to stem the tide of arousal as well as prevent herself from daring to touch that forbidden place.

By the third week, her desire to seek out stimulation was overwhelming. Every suggestive sentence, image and video left her in a little fantasy-filled daze. While her visits to the gym remained as enjoyable as ever, she paid more notice to the tightness of her attire and how it could elicit sensual thoughts from others. Simply the idea of others fantasising about touching her was enough of an outlet. Knowing that people would strip her in their mind, imagining how her body felt, how their hands could be pressing to her heaving chest and sliding along her smooth mound and supple ass helped add fuel to the fire. She enjoyed the raging inferno of desire at night. Even though it made sleeping difficult, it was pleasurable to focus on her body so sensually while knowing masturbation wasn’t going to happen. Simply exploring her body tenderly with slow strokes.

The weeks of built-up arousal meant that every time she teased along her chest and down her body, it was so much easier to imagine people she’d encountered in day-to-day life tantalising her this way. It astonished her that she could get dripping wet and so aroused just from caressing her body while avoiding her most sexual places. It was like this month of denial had made her so aware of herself, longing to discover anew how every curve and crease could be manipulated and explored. With her own fingertips, it felt possible to torment herself as much as the masseuse had done so. The idea was intoxicating. She imagined how those fingers had trained themselves on every sensitive morsel, how they had brought her to the point of begging without even having touched her pussy directly. Doing the same thing at night, teasing around her body without touching directly, took her back onto that massage table. Each night she’d ensure that her hips were swaying as much as she was back in the masseuse’s clutches. It made November pure hell, but it certainly brought her to the highest points of arousal she’d ever caused from her own touch.

By the fourth week, she was desperate to masturbate, yet she held back. To make it more difficult and to ensure she’d be on the verge of sprinting back to the massage parlour once November was over, she had taken to touching between her legs and around her pussy at night. Teasing around her body had made sleeping extremely difficult, yet she wanted to push herself even more. The slightest bit of contact between her legs felt almost like a reward. Her sex was so red and swollen, dripping without even being touched. Her imagination alone would have been enough, focusing on a man masturbating with her, seeing his erect cock just as in need as her constantly twitching clitoris. Yet tormenting herself with her own fingers brushing so close to her clitoris and entrance, slipping along her slick wet pussy lips, made her yearn for any form of contact. She knew that doing this to herself would make the inevitable visit to the massage parlour even better.

Once the end of November arrived, she could think of nothing other than the sweetness of the relief that awaited. As much of a challenge as it was, it was undeniably rewarding to feel a sense of accomplishment at lasting so long without masturbating at all. Now she was ready for her prize. In the build-up to the end of the month, especially in the last few days, even a ruined orgasm would have been a reward enough – to at least feel the rush of pleasure before it was halted, that sweet moment of respite where climax at least seemed to have been given even if it was taken away. It felt like a moment of mercy to have the sexual pressure released for even a few seconds. Now, however, it would have been cruelty beyond belief to have a ruined orgasm when her body felt like even the tiniest attention would push her to the verge of heaven.

She needed the orgasm that had been denied on her last visit. Now that she was here at the massage parlour, she was ready to receive it.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

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