After a small break, perhaps to allow a few of you to catch your breath once more, I am more than happy to welcome a new Guest Writer. In my last post I mentioned imagination – again – and the power of suggestion, so let’s see what happens with thoughts, imagination, fantasy and the power of imagination here …
As we lay in bed with the darkness surrounding us I waited for the sign. The anticipation of the first touch is excruciating, will we or won’t we? Then in a single fluid movement her right leg hooked my left to her and it had begun.
From that moment on she is under my control. I turn onto my left side and let my right hand explore her warm body. Tracing the waistband of her panties, slipping up and under her nightshirt towards but not touching her breasts trying to gain a sense of how ready she is. She writhes with each touch and raises her hips to meet my fingers. She is ready, but I had only just begun.
My middle finger sought out her cleft through the thin cotton. The first touch is magical, so it must be approached slowly. Up and down, repetitive and deliberate listening to her breathing quicken and timing things just right. Pulling her panties aside and spreading her open with ease… exposing her and making her vulnerable, she lets out a low almost inaudible moan and squirms beneath my hand.
She knows what’s coming next and wants it badly, but I make her wait, the waiting will only make it better. The first touch is gentle almost imperceptible to my fingertip but it sends a shock wave through her that makes her shudder with pleasure. This moment is almost better than the end result… almost.
Slow circles and tiny strokes tease her past the point of no return. I know that she likes to be pushed to the edge and I know how to take her there. Her breathing is labored now and she’s concentrating hard on walking that fine line of ecstasy. Just when she’s gained some control, my lips close over her nipple and now she must double her efforts.
Now that she’s physically aroused it’s time for the real fun to start. Without losing the rhythm of my strokes I begin to whisper about the toys under the bed. Describing each one in great detail and what I might do with them. The words are almost too much for her brain to cope with and she’s biting her lip and nodding in agreement when I ask if she’s ok. As long as I’m doing the talking she has an ounce of composure left. But that’s about to change.
I’ve deliberately left out her favorite toy and know that the mere mention of it will push her over the edge. This is right where she wants to be, at the very edge of oblivion and barely in control of her faculties. How long can she last? Longer than last time? My job is to bring her closer and closer while reading her body language to keep her there. She’s barely able to speak and convinced she can’t hold on any longer. She manages to say, ”I’m… so… close” and just admitting it brings her even closer.
I know very well that if I begin talking about the vibrating nipple clamps under the bed she will no longer be able to control herself. She knows it too. But her orgasm will be even better if I make her say it herself. Trying to focus on the fire between her legs and the electricity tingling on her nipple is too much. To watch and listen to her try to speak of the device that will be her undoing is exquisite.
“Tell me which toy I’ve forgotten.” She can only moan and mutters, “I I I I c-c-can’t.” I assure her that she can and she will. She will say it clear enough for me to hear or I will stop my ministrations. A guttural “no” is all she can manage and she takes a deep breath, blowing it out through pursed lips. She’s ready; she’s done very well. I don’t ever remember her lasting this long before and I remind her of just that. Now it’s up to her to say the words she wants to hear with clarity and control a split second before exploding.
“I want….” deep breath “I want the black clamp…” exhale “I want the black clamp on my…” she’s pushing herself even further and getting closer with each pause, it’s a beautiful thing to witness. One final deep breath and then in a calm clear voice, “I want the black clamp on my clit.”
I might be able to describe what happens next, but I could never do it justice. I suggest you try it and feel it for yourself.
© Jeff, 2012.
Love & Kisses, Viki.