Emily Masturbates with Style

Somewhere deep inside I have activated a mechanism. I know it will end in me having this spine shattering, shuddering explosion of joy. I know it will happen but I don't know when. All I do know at this point is that there will be no stopping it. Prolonging it has become my sole aim now. Now I will concentrate my whole being in bringing it about but not yet. I will not hurry.

My legs rise and fall, squeezing together and falling a little apart. I will not touch myself down there yet. My breasts are my complete focus of attention. My hands glide around and around. My fingers stroke, my thumbs graze the swollen nipples. I pull and pinch, soft, then harder. I watch myself. My long, slender fingernails graze to and fro. I must do something about that nail varnish. There are several cracks near the tips.

My neck and breasts are pink. My legs clamp together, my knees rise and fall in an accelerating rhythm. I need more oil. This time I pour it into the hollow of my belly button. My belly button is quite deep for some reasons so I manage to accumulate quite a lot of oil in there, lucky me. One forefinger dips into the pool. This finger slides very slowly down over my pubic hair. The hair removes the oil so I have to return to wet it again. I repeat this until my short black hair is glistening with the wet oil.

My finger travels further down with each application of the oil. My feet are now set about two feet apart and my knees raised a little. I can see my finger as it dips between my legs. It travels down further, sliding over my vagina. Now the whole area is slippery with the oil. I can feel my sex bud. It is swollen and standing clear of the surrounding folds of flesh.

I continue to transfer the remaining oil until the pool is empty. Now I am ready to touch myself. Gently, oh so gently I lay my fingertip on the swollen nub. I don't move, I touch it. My clitoris throbs under my finger. It has a pulse, a strong living independent pulse. It is eager. It wants me to rub and stroke but I will not allow that.

Not yet.

Did I mention already that the anticipation, the delay, the waiting is everything? It's like that wonderful line in Rocky Horror, it's the anticip...ation!

Sometimes I don't need to do any more than touch it this way for several minutes and an orgasm will materialize. As if from nowhere. The knowledge that my body is ready is enough for me to have that which I have waited for. The mere touch, gentle, prolonged and firm is all that it takes. This is a rarity and did not occur last night.

Did I tell you that I prefer to use my middle finger? Anyway, there it rests, feeling the pulse through my skin. Now I increase the pressure a little. Then release it to its former touch. This I repeat again and again until the sensation builds up deep inside me. Pressing, and releasing, pressing, and releasing. Now I am ready to begin the finalé. Gentle, short strokes, back and forth, back and forth. I curve my finger so that it slips inside me. I don't like to push it too deep. Around the opening seems to be quite enough. No deeper than the last knuckle.

It took a year or two before I discovered how pleasurable putting my finger inside myself could be. I couldn't imagine having something prodding inside me like that would be any fun. My curiosity got the better of me one night. Anyway, it's not as if my finger is anything like as big as father's huge penis, which he thrust so brutally into my mother. My arm isn't that thick for God's sake! It seemed unnatural and disgusting. Then I discovered that the firm clasping sensation around my fingertip was all part of the whole pleasurable experience. One fingertip is more than enough though.

I know what goes on down there because I sometimes set a rectangular mirror on the other end of the sofa. I keep it under the sofa when not in use. I don't always use it but last night I did. I generally use it when I know that it will take some time.

I move my whole arm up and down my body; I feel several separate sensations now. My finger slips a little inside me. My clitoris is now in firm contact with the hard pad of flesh between my palm and the first joint of my finger. My upper arm strokes my right breast. My left hand is still stroking my left breast. It rather gets forgotten as events progress. For now, it still plays an important part in the scheme of things.

I can feel my hand pulling on my erect nub of flesh, first up and then down as my finger slides over it. My knees are now wide apart, my feet drawn up close to my bottom, frog-like. My whole hand is flat over my vagina; my middle finger continues to slip inside me. The others push down on the folds of skin surrounding the opening. I pull the whole area with some force as my arm rises and falls. I watch closely as my hand becomes wet and slippery from my juice. Hence the towel. I seem to produce quite a lot if things go on for more than a few minutes. Last night was around ten minutes so there was lots!

I push harder now. The sensation deep within me has taken on a life of its own. Nothing will stop it now. All I have to do is continue as I am now and I know without a doubt that I will have an orgasm. For this reason, I slow the pace, slacken the pressure a little, and don't probe quite as deep within me. I allow my muscles to relax some. Then, when the sensation has subsided, I resume the pace, pressure and depth as before.

I repeat this until it becomes too much to bear. Now a fuse has ignited deep inside me. At once, the feeling spreads to my breasts and down to my vagina. It's rather like a firework. You light the blue touch paper and stand clear. Moments later, there is a flash of light and an almighty explosion. The exploding rocket is soaring toward the heavens.

There is a delicious fizzing sensation as my skin begins to burn. Tension builds within me, harder, stronger now. I stroke harder, faster, I push, I squeeze, I don't pause now, I rush headlong toward the precipice. Faster, harder, burning, shuddering, tight, open, closing, holding, tighter, wetter, faster. Oh God, now, harder, don't stop now. Oh yes, Oh yes. Now harder, faster. Pulling, squeezing, pinching, faster, harder, up and now down. Deeper, inside, tight, throbbing. Clasping lips, wet fingers flying, hand pressing hard. Nipple squeezed ferociously, breast gripped harder, pulled. Vagina wide open, red, wet, gripping tight, squeezing, finger, now two fingers, two? Held deep, deep inside. Harder, now, now, now. Oh Jesus Christ, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. Deeper, again, again, now, now, yes, that's it. Oh, that is absolutely, completely, definitely, bloody fucking hell, that is it! That is it, that is IT! Pause, breath held, hands still, muscles relaxing. Then jarring aftershocks, trembling, shuddering now, another squeeze, another aftershock, then, nothing.

Well, excuse me if I got a bit carried away there but now you get the general idea. Did you notice the language, I'm sorry about that, it won't happen again. I never talk like that! Like I said earlier; how can any man, particularly a bonehead like William, possibly know what it is to experience anything quite like that? It isn't possible that men can have an orgasm anything like as intense or as powerful as that which I have had. Is it?

I should explain that writing this down for you is making me quite excited now. Hang on a minute while I fix this. I have to take my pants off and do it now, I can't wait. I'm afraid you'll have to but I won't be long. Put my fingers in there and rub, ah yes.

Christ, that was quick. And it's only four o'clock!

Wow! That's something I've never done before. It's such fun I will continue to do it when and where the fancy takes me. I know I said earlier that I reserve it only for the evening but people should be adaptable. Don't you think?

Writing this has been fun. It's been such a great pleasure.