Workshop for Women: Milking Him

There was no more to be made. His balls worked themselves painfully, churning when there was no more to be found. I toyed and teased him, my tiny fingers teasing his swollen ballsack as it worked.

Though his cock was tired, it erected easily in my knowing hands. I was gentler now, and merely slid my palms up the length while applying very little pressure. This helped calm him and he gave in to the softness of my touch. Soon I held one hand on the lower half of his shaft and jacked him off that way. The other hand covered his sensitive cockhead and spun over the tip like I was juicing an orange. He was steadily moaning now, almost a whine, as the sensation was too much for him. I spoke quietly to him, encouraging him when he most needed it.

"I know baby, I know...I need all you have left, just give me a little more. Be a good boy. Make me happy."

He wanted to but he couldn't. His poor balls were empty but I wouldn't let up. In fact, I made it worse for him but spinning my hand off his head the moment he began to approach climax. As soon as he started to feel really good, I'd pull away and hold him in my fist, his shaft pulsing desperately in the air. This gave his balls time to recuperate and make any more they could for me.

I watched his legs open wider so I got a good view of his tiny anus as it flexed with pleasure. Below his balls I saw the cords and muscles throb as they worked overtime to produce more liquid. I traced them with my fingers to show my appreciation for the effort. This well was dry. There would be no more from him.

Now I was more concerned with teasing and soothed the tender crown of his cock. He would have one more orgasm, not because I could get anymore from him but because he needed it, physically and emotionally. He needed to know what his body is capable of. He needed to know the power I could have over him when I wanted it. He needed the peace a man can only feel when he has given up all his juices and placed himself firmly in the hands of a woman that cares for him.

"No more, k?" I spoke to him quietly in a childish voice, hoping to assuage his anxiety. He didn't respond, just continued writhing slowly beneath me. My hands still held him and I stroked slowly. My left hand rested just beneath his crown and teased the sensitive rim. The other I held just above the head, fingers brushing, plucking and gently pinching the very tip of his sex.

I saw him try to relax, his body reclined but couldn't stay still. Twitches passed through him as I played with his member. I took satisfaction in this though I realized the affect it was having on him. I made no move to get him off, just wanted him to grow comfortable with my hands stroking him and appreciating his manhood. I hummed to him, allowing him some calm as my fingers eased his tension.

His cock was swollen and sore. I knew the last two orgasms were probably difficult for him and I felt honored that he put himself in such a position for me. My fingers continued to pull and squeeze his balls tenderly as I held his shaft so the back of my hand faced him. My thumb pressed against the soft underside of his shaft. Slowly I'd draw him up, the pad of my thumb kneading tender flesh until it reached his glans. I'd press more firmly there before I began my descent, my thumb sliding against his slickened skin.

I felt it in his balls first, a slight stirring. There was a movement within him as if there was a slight flow. When I looked up he was wincing and gritting his teeth.

"One more?"

He nodded hurriedly, no longer in control of his own body.

"Easy baby," I guided him. "Just let it come. Don't fight it."

His face reddened and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He opened his mouth in a silent moan and gulped air. His lips were frozen into the shape of exquisite pleasure.

I was right with him. "That's it, so beautiful. I love watching you come."

He cried and twisted, his body turned away and back to me. His cock swelled until I almost lost my grip. Both of my hands clenched him. I no longer teased, just held him, squeezing my encouragement. This was unexpected. I didn't think his body could take anymore. It seemed to be pushing itself.

With a guttural groan he cried out and sat up. His penis, with no more to give, ejaculated thin spurts of clear fluid. He was dry and the ache he felt must have been considerable. As he came I hugged him to me, offering my body for comfort. He clutched me to him and the undeniable scent of maleness, of sex filled my nostrils. He was coated in a layer of sweat and his body was overheated. My fingers ran through his damp hair as I cooed to him and covered his forehead with kisses.

His penis, now exhausted, rested limply against me. I kept my hands away, not wanting to upset him further. He was like a wounded animal, looking for a shaded place to hide himself and recover. I wanted to take his length in my mouth and give it the pleasure he always enjoyed but I knew that would only antagonize him.

He looked to me, his woman, the one who put him in such a state, for comfort. He is my man and has proven himself to me. After that I swore never again to make him feel hurt or in need again. He will always be able to look to me for love, comfort and relief.

I think a bridge has been crossed between us and we're both very happy.

Thank you for that Elena, it means the world to me.