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By *abon OP Woman
over a year ago
Loughboro/Ashby-ish |
She lay still, waiting, listening. She had told him everything, exactly what she needed him to know. The bed was so comfortable, although she was aware of the tension in her upper arms, pulled up over her head and tied together to the frame. To breathe deeply, as she knew she would, she’d have to lengthen her spine on the exhale, and arch her back on the inhale…just as she wanted. Her legs were free because she needed to be able to move them as she liked. There was a slight noise which she knew was pressure on the third or fourth stair - he was coming upstairs.
The bedroom door clicked open, and she felt him walk into the room. After a slight pause, he sat on the edge of the bed next to her waist. She felt so alive that even that slight roll of her body towards his as the bed dipped sent crackles through her. Her breathing was rough already, and she could feel the aching warmth in her belly. His hand reached out and brushed gently across her belly too, as if he wanted to feel that build up of heat she had told him about. His lay his palm on her pubic bone, and his middle finger gently found the line of her pussy; he just lay it along there, letting their skin acclimatise to each other. He crooked the fingertip and it dipped into the mouth of her vagina, parting her lips and releasing a trickle of warm juice…he held his finger there. He slid his hand back so that his fingertip slowly moved up her, finding her clit. Gently lifting the weight of his hand off, he smoothed the pad of his finger over her, waking up the sensations. He did it over and over again, gently, so slowly, dipping gently around her pussy occasionally to keep it slippery. She could feel juice trickling out beneath her, but he wasn’t to go there yet. The heat built up in her belly, and she started gently moving her hips side to side. The walls of her vagina had started to swell, and when she moved, they made delicious contact against each other.
At this sign, he knew what she wanted. The heel of his hand dropped down to her belly, anchoring on her pubic bone. His ring finger joined the middle finger and he straightened them both so that it was the full length of the top joints that touched her. He had been instructed on the difference between a hard, narrow, pointed fingertip and a soft, wide, flattened finger pad. He kept his two fingers together, as if they were joined, and started slowly rubbing in a circular movement.
She knew he was watching her, remembering what she had told him, listening to what she was showing him. The change from the feather light touches directly on the tip of her clit to the firmer, circling movements around and over it took things up a level. She felt a rush of searing heat flare down the inside of her thighs. He held things here for a minute or two, sometimes dipping both fingers - still held tightly together - inside her. Deeper this time, though, and each time, slowly sliding all the wetness up and over her lips, before returning to the firm, consistent circling. Her heels slid up the bed, her knees raised to the ceiling, and she pressed her feet into the bed. His wrist banged against her thigh, and he changed position slightly so he wasn’t in her way. She dropped her knees out to the sides, and arched her back. This stretched all of the skin across her vulva, and made her clit stand out further. She pushed her hips forward, arching her back harder, feeling that familiar aching become almost unbearable. She wanted to cum, but she wasn’t there yet. His circling continued, still with the flattened fingers. She had warned him of the habit men have of resorting to tips…she wanted only the pads. His circling widened, the top of the circle being across her clit, but then sliding down, pressing the padded flesh on one side of her slit, across the entrance to her vagina, and then firmly up the other side of her slit. With each pass, he caught all the silky drips from her and smeared it all over her…over a wider area than most guys pay attention to…but then back to rubbing the smaller area around just the clit…and then alternating between the two. Every time he went back to the clit, it was more and more intense. She became aware she had been panting as her mouth was dry, so she licked her lips slowly and swallowed couple of times.
He reached his left hand out, touching her left hip, snaking around the curve of her bum until she felt two fingers plunge deep inside her. She gasped as the sensations inside her shot up. She flung her legs straight, locking her thighs tight, pressing down on his arm, and increasing the tension all over the lower part of her body, and then bent her legs hard, using her heels to drive his hand deeper into her until his knuckles pressed painfully against her. He moved his left fingers inside her, but still kept circling with his right hand. He was working hard!
Now, the hesitation felt between two people; the line you have to cross to fully reach where you want to go. There was so much chemistry between them that it would be easy to just cum and fuck. But she had wanted both - the sensuality, validation and connection of being with another person, but also the total abandonment she was able to feel on her own. She had told him everything: the crazy rhythmic movements her legs sometimes needed, the ugly fast, violent wanking she might want, the lack of knowing whether it would take thirty seconds or fifteen minutes, and the fact that sometimes she could cry with unstoppable laughter afterwards.
Then the relief that took over her entire body - as pleasurable as it had been up until now, there it was - that tiny spark of a completely different sensation, deep within her, that would only get stronger: the embodied knowledge that her body was ready, willing and able to cum. And now the breathing. She became aware that her breath was only reaching the bottom of her lungs - that there was an obstacle between her heart and her sex. The next breath she took in deeper and felt it go past her stomach, through her womb, down to her very ending. Her heels slid up and down the bed, sometimes she opened her knees and sometimes she locked her legs tight. His hand could barely move when she did that, but he knew to keep going. His left hand slipped out and when there was room, he ran one fingertip around her anus, slippery with her own juice, making her unable to focus on exactly where he was touching her - she just felt lit up - so alive and aware that she could even feel the ridges of his fingerprints on her clit. One final breath, and then it came over her - the spasms on the way up the unstoppable beginning of her orgasm. He was not to stop, not to change pace, not to step back and watch, or it would evaporate. She needed him to take her all the way through. She went past the surprise that there always was - that this was just the build up to the orgasm - and as she peaked it rocked through her whole body. She moaned loudly, again and again, pulling hard against the ties on her wrists, desperate to free her arms and grip him tightly. She wanted him to stop and fuck her, but if he stopped, then so would this, so she continued on alone. Rhythmic shudders, moans, a need for pressure, smashing waves of heat, and then finally a fading. As instructed, he did not move his hands. It was like they were part of her until she was ready to let go. Shudders continued every few seconds for another minute or so, and he felt her relax utterly.
Without removing his right hand, he struggled to untie her hands and lay next to her. She turned her face towards him, opened her eyes and kissed him deeply. After another minute or two like this, he slowly started moving his fingers around her clit again - tiny movements, but as they were still connected - by skin and by eyes - it was like there had been no lull. Almost instantly, another orgasm swept over her but this time she was able to grip him, which steadied her. Not so long, but more sharp and electric in nature. She lay back and he slowly, gently removed his fingers from the folds of her swollen pussy. ‘Fuck me’, she said. |
