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She knew that her inability to orgasm was affecting their sex life. He did too. Frustration brewed at the fringes of their relationship, threatening to overflow into conflict that they both knew their love might not survive.
One night he approached her in their bedroom, as he was wont to do. However, instead of initiating another generic round of unsatisfying rote sex, he stood before her and appraised her body.
“I want to try something,” he said softly. “Something that might help with our problem.”
Her eyebrow arched in curiosity.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
Her look of curiosity morphed into an expression of confusion.
“Sure,” she replied.
“No,” he insisted. “I mean really, do you trust me? Because I have a pretty novel idea that will realign you to the pleasure that you’ve been missing out on. I think it’s just what we need. But it’s a bit out there.”
“Ok,” she said in a small voice. “I trust you.”
“Good,” he concluded. “Take off your clothes.”
She smiled, convinced that they were about to embark on another halfhearted attempt at lovemaking, and began undoing the buttons on her blouse.
When she unclasped the last button, she shrugged off the shirt. With a single hand she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, working it free from each shoulder and dropping it to the ground.
Next she slipped two fingers into the band of her skirt and unclasped the hooks that held it tight. Gravity instantly took hold and slipped it to the floor.
Finally, she hooked her thumbs into her panties on each side and they fell to the ground.
He smiled and drank her in. Despite the lull in their sex life, she maintained her body as though any night could be the night of their lives.
“Lie back on the bed,” he instructed. She climbed on, rolled onto her back, and lay there, waiting. This didn’t feel to her like the awkward beginning of one of their banal sexual encounters.
“I want you to forget about your orgasm,” he began. “For the next seven days, we’re going to meet here every night at nine o’clock. You’re going to strip naked, and we’re going to stimulate you for half an hour.”
As he spoke, her eyes lit up and her mouth opened a little. This was far from their their regular sexual menu.
“Each night we’re going to stimulate you a different way,” he continued. “But here’s the thing. You’re not allowed to orgasm. It’s simply not in the cards, until the seventh day.”
She scrunched up her nose quizzically. “But what if I can’t help it and I cum?”
“Well considering our problem that wouldn’t be too bad, right?” He offered. She nodded in acknowledgement. “But we can prevent you, with your help. Whenever you feel yourself about to cum, you’re going to tell me ‘I’m close’, and we’ll stop or slow down whatever we’re doing.”
As she processed the possibilities, she felt her pussy growing damp and her nipples erecting casino oyna in the cool air. While she yearned for the return of the sexual release of orgasm, she was aroused and slightly terrified at the thought of so much stimulation with no outlet for release.
“Ok,” she offered. “So what will you do each night?”
“It’ll be different each night,” he replied. “And I’m not going to tell you in advance.
But for tonight, what we’re going to use to stimulate you is you.”
She got a confused look for a moment, until he continued.
“I want you to masturbate for me,” he clarified. The thought bounced around in her brain. She had touched herself during sex, but she had never just lay in front of him and got herself off. Still, she was curious enough to try, and was not ashamed of doing it.
Then he took out his phone and set a timer for 30 minutes.
The clock began to count backward. 29:59, 29:58…
“Touch yourself,” he instructed.
She hesitantly brought her right hand between her legs and slid her index and middle fingers up and down her slit.
“Follow my instructions,” he said. “Get your fingers wet but don’t penetrate yourself.”
She rubbed her fingers against her labia, moistening them on the juices that gathered at the opening to her most intimate of spaces.
“Touch your clit,” he continued. “Slowly at first, and very lightly. Just softly brush it with your fingertips.”
She brought her fingers up to her pearl and began drawing slow circles around it. It was way too slow, much slower than she would ever masturbate if left to her own devices.
As her fingers lightly circled, her clit grew more sensitive, little arcs of sensation coursing through her body at the light touch. She wanted more. She wanted it faster. But she followed his instructions.
“Keep going slow, but press harder.”
She burrowed her fingers down, pressing against her clit and rolling it around as her digits circled the sensitive nub.
“Now start to go faster, one circle per second.”
She sped up her ministrations. Without noticing, she had pulled her legs back and spread them, so that the bottoms of her feet touched each other. She dug her face into the crook of her free arm, which she had wrapped over her head.
As she continued circling, pressing hard, moving fast, she began to feel the tingling of hard arousal. She could feel her clit engorging, the blood pumping through her. Her breath shortened. Her pulse quickened.
“Twice again as fast.”
She sped up, her fingers working as fast now as she would when trying desperately to bring herself off. Despite the difficulty of the prior months, she felt the slow rise of that familiar sensation, the coming cliff from which she so longed to fall.
It took her a second to register his instruction.
She canlı casino stopped moving her fingers but kept them on her clit. Removing her head from the crook of her arm she looked at the clock.
Her clit was now warm to the touch, and she felt every little pulse and shift of her fingers as they rested against it.
“Take your hand away for a moment,” he said, and she did. “Take some deep breaths.”
She breathed deeply. It was calming. The buzz of desire faded a little and her pulse slowed.
The clock read 18:50.
“Start touching yourself again,” he said. “This time use only your index finger, and draw a line from the top of your clit to the bottom of your labia and back up. Slowly. One lap every three seconds.”
Her hand returned to her pussy and she positioned it at the top of her groin, where the mound of her clit began to emerge from the flat plains of her pubic hair. Slowly, so very slowly, she slid the finger down the length of her clitoral hood, and over the delicate pearl below. As her fingers touched her clit, desire and sensation immediately arced through her, and she groaned. But her finger continued, down across her soaked folds to the A-spot between her pussy and her anus. Then she reversed course, bringing her finger back up the length of her wet sex.
As the finger passed again over her clit she again felt the acute sensation of arousal burn through her. Up over the hood her finger went, reaching the top. And, as instructed, she began a second lap.
By the time she had done twenty, her mind was focused entirely on her clit. It burned with sensitivity, and she could once again see her elusive orgasm in the distance, creeping closer.
Her eyes were closed as she drank in the sensation, and she didn’t see the passing of time as the clock counted down. Her head swam, electricity coursing through her with each pass of her clit. Her index finger was soaked in her juice and the room smelled muskier than it had in any sex they’re had for over a year.
She opened her eyes on the fourtieth lap, and saw the clock ticking past 13:00. She saw the look on his face. The outline of his erect cock strained against his pants. She wanted him. She wanted him more than anything. She wanted nothing more than to be railed balls deep and devoured by him. Her orgasm approached.
This time she obeyed instantly, but let out a moan of frustration.
“I can come,” she said. “I’m ready.”
“No,” he replied. “This isn’t about you coming once, this is about turning things around entirely. By the time we’re done, you’re going to desire orgasm more than you ever have in your life. It will occupy a part of your attention with each waking moment.”
Her mixture of dread and arousal kept her at her plateau, and she took in his words as if they were the biggest, hardest cock in the world.
“When you finally orgasm,” he continued. “The world as kaçak casino you know it will change. Every cell in your body will explode in pleasure. You will be reborn. But first you’re going to experience a lot of frustration. It’s the only way.”
She felt a tear of wetness escape from her folds and slide down her a-spot and over her asshole. In her hypersensitive state, she felt every inch of its journey as if it was his tongue working her over.
“Circle your clit again, fast this time.”
She hungrily complied, rubbing hard and fast on her pearl. Very quickly, she felt the point of no return approaching.
“I’m close,” she whispered.
“Slow down but keep going,” he ordered. “Go as slow as it takes to not orgasm, but keep those fingers on your clit.”
And she did. Just as the sensation reached its zenith, she slowed and the rush of orgasm abated, just out of reach.
Despite going slower, as her fingers danced she felt the wave of pleasure approaching again, too quickly. She stopped entirely this time and just a shimmer of orgasm passed over her, but it didn’t take. Every nerve in her clit was on fire. Desire ached over every inch of her body.
“Keep going, hands on,” he teased.
She returned to her work. Her hands moved very slow, so slow it took her five seconds just to circle her clit once, but even at that pace she felt so close to cumming that it shook her to her core. She was waltzing with her orgasm, begging for it to fall away but helpless to do anything but approach it.
Her eyes were closed and stars danced in the periphery of her consciousness. This was what she was waiting for, it was so close…
“Try going faster,” he said. “Keep bringing yourself right to the edge.”
She moaned and focused her brain to avoid cumming. Her fingers worked faster. Without noticing it, she had changed position again, drawing her legs back into the air, opening herself up to him in a wanton, lurid manner. Wetness dripped as her pussy and clit pulsed in sensitivity.
She opened her eyes and removed her hand with a moan of frustration. Her breathing was quick and labored. Her pussy felt like you could fry an egg on it. The clock read:
She looked at him pleadingly.
“Remember, this is for you,” he reminded. “For the next week, the only time your pussy gets any attention is during our sessions. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she gasped. Echoes of sexual pleasure still emanated from her pussy despite nothing touching her. She lowered her legs. “But…”
“No buts,” he said, making eye contact with her. “I mean it. No masturbating in the shower or after I fall asleep. Nothing but this. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she repeated with a tenor of resignation in her voice. “But what about you?”
He smiled. “Fringe benefit of guiding you through this is, I may take some liberties with you over the week, and judging by your behavior today, I don’t think you’ll mind. Now put on some pajamas and try to focus on something else. We’ll do this again tomorrow at nine.”
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