denied orgasm

It started with me on my knees when you walked into the room. You opened your fly and I started sucking your cock. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter and I rocked back and forth to feel some friction against my jeans. Your hands held my head in place and you slid back and forth out of my mouth as deep as you could go.



When I tried to circle your cock with my hands, you grabbed them with one of yours and held them against the back of my head. My mouth was wet and warm and I wanted to cum just from the feeling of you slamming into my mouth, my wet cunt pushing against itself and the aching feeling of my nipples. You couldn’t last any longer and you came, pushing yourself into my mouth as hard as you could and your body went stiff and I swallowed and swallowed.



I lay back against the edge of the bed. My legs spread wide, the damp seeping through my jeans. You dragged your fingers back and forth so lightly along the seam, pushing me closer to cumming. You pushed your finger into my wet and sticky mouth, your cum still lingering.



I stood up and pulled off my jeans and my panties and lay back on the bed, hoping you would lower your mouth to my clit and suck on it. But instead you flipped me over onto my stomach, spread my legs wide and pressed my little benwa balls into my very wet cunt. The slight vibrations forced me to rub my clit along the bed, wanting contact.



You got me up and I put on a short dress, my thighs wet and my whole world centered on my clit, the sensation from the balls in my cunt and the memory of you fucking my mouth.



At that moment I would have done anything in the world for you and you wanted dinner.



I couldn’t eat. During dinner, each time I shifted my legs, I inched closer to orgasm and every time I smelled you, touched you, pictured you fucking me, it pushed me further down the path.



As we walked back to the room, you placed you hand on the top of my ass, your fingers drifting down into the crack. I wanted to suck on your cock so badly that I would have knelt in the street if you hadn’t moved your hand back to the small of my back at that moment.



Back in the room, you pushed me face down onto the bed and spread my legs wide. With four fingers, you swept your hand from my clit to my ass, feeling the wet and how badly I wanted you. Reaching into my cunt, you gradually pulled the balls out, gently circling my clit at the same time. As the second ball came free, I came, liquid streaming and I pushed up from the bed against you. You pushed me back down and spread my legs again.



Your cock was hard again and I could feel it against my ass. I reached for the bottle of lube and you took it from me, squirting the cold gel against my slit. You took the butt plug and dipped it into my cunt, soaking it in the wet. With a slow push, you slid it into my ass until it could go no further.



I reached back to touch your cock, my mouth opening with the desire to suck it again. Instead, with both hands, you grabbed my hips and shoved your cock into my cunt. It was tight from the butt plug in my ass and soaking wet from my cum and the lube. You held still as I tried to rock back against you but you realized that you couldn’t stop moving. You felt the pressure pushing down on you from the plug and the wet from my cunt, and you slid slowly back and forth, your hands tight on my back.



I reach down to find my clit, huge and aching and moved it back and forth with two fingers; my body consumed with the pressure in my ass, my cunt. I wanted it to last, this moment, where the whole of everything existed in a quiet room and your cock was pushing me closer and closer to cumming.



Finally, I came again and the spasms spread from my clit to my cunt to my ass. You felt me shaking as you buried your cock one last time into me. With a hard push back against my hips, you slid out and rolled me onto my back and pressed down on top of me, against my stomach. Rocking hard, you came against me, your cum pooling out and dripping down my sides.



Reaching down between my legs, your mouth gently touched my clit as I held your balls and cock in my hands and we slept.

I want you to take your time and dress in a scarf, a tight retro sweater, a bra, a simple skirt, and a pair of vintage stockings and garter belt



Fix your hair simply, down. Wear heels.



You’ll enter the room, the fireplace lit and the flames licking off in the corner, a few candles closer to the loveseat.



You’ll take the Manhattan, enjoy a sip, and we’ll talk, as my hand wanders up your thigh.



Come here. You bow your head, supplicant, fitting into my shoulder. My hand slides around, protective, controlling.



For some time now, your body hasn’t been yours. Tonight, it will be mine, a means to return it to you.



“Virtuous, I know.” I smile, sarcastic, self-serving, sure.



I hold you there, soft lips on soft lips, fingers entwined hard in hair.



Finally, I slide back eye to eye.



Strip. In front of the fireplace’s dancing light.



Take your time.



I slip back into the seat, a sip of the drink, and wait, staring theatrically.



You start tentatively. When you peel off the sweater, I slide my shirt over my head.



When you drop the skirt, I drop my pants, then lean back, watching.



My voice is firm, unwavering. I tell you to caress your curves, pull your nipples, slide your hands over your hips and stomach and into your hair. Unhook and drop the bra.



You perform in the flickering light, seduction, submission, tease.



I motion towards the garter belt…



Slowly, the stockings are released and, even more languorously, they’re removed.



Naked, I arise from the couch and run my right forefinger around your lips.



Don’t move.



The finger traces down your chin to your breasts, cupping one in my hand, letting the hard nipple slide between forefinger and middle finger, pulling it.



Don’t move..



I play with your breasts, pinching, kneading, stroking, gauging your reaction.



Eventually, I move behind you, massaging your shoulders, my enjoyment obvious.



My hands retreat for a moment and a black blindfold slips over your eyes.



I guide you past the warmth of the fire to the bed.



On your back. Hands over head.



The scarf is released from around your neck and ties your wrists, my legs straddling your chest, my hardness slipping up between your breasts, teasing your lips.



For long squirming minutes, hands explore your body, breath warm on your nape, just below the hair line.



Your hair is roughly gathered and pinned up in a clip, your nape vulnerable.



Hands over head. Don’t move.



An icy drip on your nipple. Then another. A melting cube circles the breast, chased by a languid, tormenting tongue. A pause. Teeth raking over your nipple hard-on. Then a pinch.



Not yet.



Another shocking cube, icy hot tracing a line down your center, slowly turning and going back up over your breast and into your mouth.



Hand in hair, holding you.



Mine.



Both hands kneading your breasts. Small circles. Slow. Hard. Thumbs and forefingers.



A hand slides down over your thighs, the back of the fingers caressing your slit along the way.



Hands over head.



Knees apart.



Fingers exploring. Breathing.



Not yet.



One finger tracing a hard, slick clit.



Two fingers inside. Pushing. There.



Whispers. Not yet.



Turn over. Now.



On your knees, face down. Cheeks high, exposed, beckoning, expectant.



A palm flat, caressing your bottom, fingertips circling.



Mine. All mine.



Anticipation.



A pause. An expectant, breath-holding pause.



The sound of skin on skin. Hand on cheek.



Heat rising from your bottom. Breathing harder, a gurgle, a moan.



Mine.



Again. Skin on Skin.



Shocking. Breathtaking. A gasp.



Heat. Red skin rising.



A tender hand slipping underneath. Playing.



Minutes.



Don’t move. Hands over head.



On your back again.



Long, slow kisses.



Hands pinning hands over your head.



Breath on nape.



A stroke of your hair.



A tongue just behind your ear.



Whispers. Not yet.



Hips squirming, rising..



Slowly…a hand raising your knees one after the other.



Don’t move. Hands over head.



My hands underneath you, your hips up.



A slow, flat tongue slides up your slick center, slowly, then back down, pausing, lingering, then back up before teasing with the tip at the top.



A tongue tracing a line from your center to your lips, teasing your nipples on the journey.



Hand in hair, holding your head.



Open your mouth.



A hard, deep kiss. Taste yourself.



Hip to hip. Grinding.



One hand entwined in the bonds over your head.



Scarf released.



Hands slowly sliding down your cheeks, tracing your lips, your neck, your breasts, a firm, seductive line to your center.



Both hands sliding under your bottom, raising you up, holding you there.



Your arms around my back.



Knees raised.



A pause.



A look.



My tip there, teasing.



Your hips rising up to meet it.



Your eyes pleading.



Not yet.



Not yet.



Tell me.



Tell me.



Surrender all.



Now ask.



Please.



Driving in. Holding. Back out to the tip.



Eyes meeting, smiling eyes.



Abandon.



Pounding abandon.



Your body.



All mine.



All yours, again.

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