Pleasure in Control Ch. 03

I moved my fingers up a little onto my Mound-of-Venus, level with the top of my slit, and pulled upwards. I felt my hood slide over my clit, exposing it to the imagined stares of an appreciative audience, the absent women who had recently and so unexpectedly entered my life. The nub of my clit hardened and grew as my fertile imagination slipped into overdrive. It seemed to take on identity all of its own as it throbbed between my legs and begged for me to touch it, but I resisted, wallowing in the beautiful sensations of agonising arousal. My breasts were hot and I could feel the hardness of my nipples pressing into my knees. I rubbed my legs over them, sending delicious sensations through my upper body. The lighter I grazed across them, the harder they grew until the heat of my blood pulsing through them became almost unbearable yet shockingly enjoyable.

I hooked a long, manicured fingernail over each of my inner labia and parted them further. My juices ran over my fingertips, down into the sensitive clefts where my fingers meet and then onto my palms. I massaged my wetness into my thighs then poised a single, probing finger just above the entrance to my open, waiting vagina. Simultaneously I positioned the corresponding finger of my other hand within reach easy of my tingling clit, ready to deliver the stimulation that would bring me to climax within an instant.

And I waited.

The anticipation was electrifying and I cried out in frustration as I denied myself the release I craved. My clit ached so much I thought I might come just from those sensations alone but in reality, I did not want to come. Not yet. I was intoxicated by the feelings deep inside as my body shook uncontrollably. I was on cloud 9.

I stretched out and straightened my legs, parting them as wide as possible and found that, by alternately tensing and relaxing the muscles in the groin I could intensify the sensations in my pussy. I desperately wanted to squeeze my breasts and rub my nipples, but prevented myself by clasping my arms above my head. The sensations were indescribable as all of the most sensitive parts of my body screamed for finger-contact, but my mind said no.

My nipples burned with desire. Even without touching them I knew they were harder than they had ever been before and, looking down at them in the faint glow of the street-lights outside, I could see how hugely erect they had grown. Almost obscenely, abnormally so. Shit! How I wanted to suck them into my mouth, to lick them with my tongue and bite on them. I could have if I had cupped my breasts and lifted them to my face with my hands. But I didn't. Instead I focussed on the unbelievably powerful sensations as my teats continued to throb and grow even more erect, such that I could hardly stand the intensity of their arousal. But I didn't touch them.

The sensations in my pussy were at least as strong, competing for my attention. Cunt juice oozed from my vagina in pulses and trickled down between my arse-cheeks as I voluntarily contracted and relaxed my muscles. Rocking my pelvis slightly I found I could stimulate my clit ever so slightly as its hood slid over its engorged protégé; enough to keep me perilously close to orgasm but insufficiently to tip me over the edge. Fantastic.

Slowly, the feelings ebbed a little, enough for me to dare to touch myself without fear of coming instantly. I lifted and spread my knees and brought my feet together so my pussy gaped wide, exposing my clit and causing it to beg for attention. Steeling myself, I resisted the temptation to frig my aching bud and instead I moved my hands only as far as my breasts. I jumped as my palms grazed over rock-like nipples as large and long and hard as the tips of my little fingers. I allowed myself to pinch them and roll them, then I pulled them out and let go, enjoying the rush as they returned to shape and stood to attention like soldiers obediently awaiting their next mission. It didn't come, and neither did I.

Placing my hands between my parted knees, I started a slow upward journey towards my mound. When they reached my perineum they encountered a slippery pool of my seeping, warm juices that moistened them and made it even easier for me to slide them onwards and upwards, slowly but steadily.

I spread my legs as wide as I could, using gravity to help open my labia wider than they have ever opened in my life. I moved my fingertips as far as my gaping vagina and found that I could easily slip both of my index fingers into its soft entrance. I moved them apart, stretching my hot, supple flesh, opening wider the door to my inner self. I felt absolutely, totally immersed in the anticipation of my self-induced pleasure.

I quickly slipped my fingers out of my tunnel entrance and massaged my hugely swollen inner labial lips, rubbing my juices into the smooth, fascinating and complex layers as I explored their soft, warm flesh. Then I moved on. I slid them up and around the outside of the delicate hood that tried in vain to protect my clit from my fingers' slow, inexorable advance. Then, shaking uncontrollably, I squeezed my fingers down and together, pressing my wet, slippery hood over my engorged, erect clitoris. I cried out like I don't remember crying out before as I felt my climax approaching. My mind was thinking of only one thing now as I desperately craved the release and fulfilment that I needed so badly.

I paused.

During the last 3 days I had actually enjoyed the thrill of denied orgasm and had spurned the quick satisfaction of casual masturbation. But now I was frantic. Just how long could I hold off my final release? I moved my hands away from my clit and concentrated hard. My throat was dry, my breathing was harsh and shallow and my mind was a blur. "Shit! Oh NO! Please, Please PLEASE!" I cried out in the dark. My pussy pulsed and quivered as the sensations rose, plateaued, then subsided just a fraction.

Again and again I pressed my hood down over my clit, the warm, moist flesh teasing the aching bundle of nerve-endings between my thighs, and each time I pulled back from the brink. Once I almost left it too late, bringing myself perilously close to the edge of the precipice of orgasm. I lay perfectly still and teetered on the brink. I could have let go and, in a fraction of a second, have plunged into the deep canyon of total pleasure and satisfaction, but I fought back my most powerful primal, animal instincts.

How long could I lie here, motionless? Have I gone so far that the feelings would not subside? Maybe never! Will the rest of my life be lived permanently on the edge of orgasm but cruelly unable to climax? Or could I take myself the rest of the way just by my thoughts alone? Yet more images of the fantastically attractive women I had met, dressed in the most supremely and impossibly sexy underwear imaginable, flashed through my mind's eye as I managed my arousal.

Delighted by my ability to take total control of my sexuality, I rubbed my clit frantically with the middle finger of my right hand. Every few strokes I slipped my finger back into my vulva to draw fresh lubricant back up to my clitoris so that I could slide my finger ever more lightly and excruciatingly over its swollen, aching surface. As I approached the climax that I deserved, I slowed almost to a stop one last time and savoured the delightful tease as I extracted maximum enjoyment from the perfect moment. The crescendo that welled up inside me seemed to take forever to peak until, finally, I allowed myself to tip over the edge into a massive, crashing, screaming, quivering orgasm. Brilliant!