So It Goes

I feel you shifting, but the vibrator doesn't leave my body. One of your knees slides in between my legs. I look up to see you kneeling over me. This changes our dynamic a little. My stomach flutters. I trust you with everything I have. It's not that. It's that before, I had to trust myself. Now, I couldn't touch you even if I wanted to. You're legitimately out of reach.

Fuck. This is agonizing.

You still have not moved the toy from where it landed shortly before I resigned myself to my current position on my back. But now that we've adopted this new orientation of you being above me, I'm very curious to see what you come up with next.

And I feel it. You move the tip of the bullet to the perimeter of my underwear, running it along the seam where it meets my skin. For a moment, I'm unsure if you're playing with the idea of venturing underneath. You're at the top of my inner thigh, questing. Then, you gently hover above the fabric, drifting on top of my lace-covered pussy. I inhale. Just as smoothly, you float the toy a couple inches north and begin to press it gently against my clit.

Some combination of a gasp and a yelp comes out of my throat. My arms lift up, folding up around my head. I know I shouldn't be too loud. I turn my face and briefly bury it in the pillow I've found comfort in. I look back at you. You are concerned with my volume, but overall too thrilled to care.

"Is this where you want it?" you ask me, cheekily.

I bring a heavy breath into my chest. "I'll tell you what I want," I say. One of my hands reaches back out toward your body. As I expected, I can't touch you. My fingertips just barely graze the fabric of your pants.

You gently swat my hand away and continue to massage the bullet around my clit, sliding it around on top of my panties. I hear you exhale, beginning to laugh at me. You enjoy this too much.

Or maybe, just enough.

"Pick something else. What else do you want?" you ask.

I'm taken aback. My elbow is currently wrapped around my head, and I peek around it to look at you and try to gauge what you are asking. "Huh?" I'm very subtle.

"What else would you want? Only rule is: no touching."

Oh my god. What do I want?

This could take a minute. But, in order to save time, I need to create a quick mental flow chart. Let's start with what I wish I could have.

I wish I could touch your body. You've already told me I can't. Well, what would I be doing if I could touch you? I would be on your dick.

More specifically, I would be on your dick because I want to see the proof that you're enjoying this. Show me.

"I want your cock. I want to see it."

Your reaction is something you attempt to stifle, but elements of shock, excitement and nervousness come through. I'm not sure what you were expecting me to propose. There's only so many directions this can go in. You decide to play through.

You glance down at the toy you are still holding against my body, then meet my eye again. "Do you mind taking this for a second?"

I move my head in some manner indicating I am capable of doing what you ask, then guide my hand down toward my nether regions. My hand brushes yours (a rule we silently acknowledge we must bend for the sake of the game) as we exchange the toy. I take it in a familiar grasp and place it in a benign location, where it won't excite me too quickly while you do whatever you're about to do.

With the skill of jazz-band-nerd-turned-stripper, you undo your buttons and zippers and whatever else is in the way. Smoothly. Fluidly. There's anticipation. If I had dollars, I would shove them at you. I love you. I hate you. Do I want to take the vibrator and make myself come? I'm slightly tempted to run it along your body and torture you in return, or shove it in your mouth.

You're killing me.

Clearly, I'm losing my mind.

Just before a blood vessel is surely about to pop in my brain, I see through my brain fog that you're bare in front of me. You've also decided to remove your shirt, which helps me feel less naked. And you're holding your cock for me to see.

Your other hand returns to my vibrator, covering my own hand. It's clear you don't need or want me to move away. Whatever guidance I can offer, you're accepting.

"Will you touch yourself for me?" I ask you. "Since I can't touch you?" I can barely speak above a whisper. You render me almost speechless sometimes.

You nod. "Will you?" I feel your fingers pressing further into my hand, which presses into the vibrator.

My eyes roll back, and my eyelids close. I nod.

Simple vows to each other. I bet we can honor these.

My eyes return to your face, but I see your hand move. For a moment, I am arrested. There's no way I can move any part of my body while this is occurring, much less fulfill what you've just made me promise I would do.

But then, very quickly, something shifts inside of me. It's my desire for you, raw and sudden. I need.

That's all; it's a complete thought. I need. More specifically, I need you. But since you won't let me have you, I am simply in need. The next best thing is the vibrating object pressing against my clit. So, I need more of it.

My hand starts to shift the shaft of the toy. I pivot the tip over the top of my underwear. I want more.

These bottoms, as cute as they are, are equally as impractical. They are easy to push to the side because the crotch is both too small and too big at the same time. Does that make sense to you? Probably not. There's not enough fabric, but it's also too loose, so— never mind, it's not pivotal that you understand.

My other arm is still dramatically raised above my head, in mock distress at the situation we have created for ourselves. I lower it, my fingers staying close to my body, right up until I reach the material of my panties. I don't want to make you think I'm going to try breaking the rules again.

Your eyes follow my hand sliding along my own skin. You watch as my fingers easily slide the fabric aside. You say nothing, but I can hear you breathing. Your hand moves along your length, changing pace slightly. I move the toy more liberally along my body now that my underwear is out of the way.

As I suspected, a substantial amount of moisture is sitting inside of the folds of my body, waiting to be released. A small amount of prompting and pressure from the toy begins to spread it around. I start to feel it on the toy, my fingers, and everywhere else. Your eyes move to my face when you hear me inhale as the sensations change for me.

I can't stop my leg from locking onto yours. Our feet are starting to tangle with each other behind you. That's not cheating, is it?

I don't care.

Your eyes move back down to where we are holding onto the toy. You must notice the change in motion, pressure, or manipulation. I sense no objection from you. You are following my movements, a silent partner in this venture.

Then, you become less silent.

"Do you put that inside of you?"

I feel my eyes flash at you in surprise. "I have," I answer. "Do you want to see that?"

Your mouth seems to silently form the words before you speak them. "Could you? Could we do that?"

One corner of my mouth lifts, though I don't mean to do it. Your gaze can't hold onto my face as you're asking this line of questions, but keeps returning to our grip on the toy. I don't mind. I want to show you.

I move the head of the bullet down toward my opening again, where the moisture is coming from. The toy is relatively small. Petite in the toy world. It's not even meant to be a replica of a penis. It's smooth, purple, and not intimidating. I estimate it to be a few times larger than an average tampon applicator. And with my current level of lubrication, it will easily slide inside me.

I tilt the shaft of the toy. It starts to enter my body, and I feel the vibrations in a new way, all the way up through my body. I feel my mouth open, gently inhaling, as I adjust to the new sensations. A tiny amount of pressure from your hand helps push it in a bit further than I otherwise would. Giving up that small amount of control, and having you surprise me like that, is enough to make groan your name. My eyes roll up to the ceiling.

"Fucking hell," I hear you breathe from above me. My eyes reconnect with your face. You are fixated on our hands, together, manipulating the toy between my legs.

Your other hand, as expected, is still working your amazing cock. I see your hand moving with precision, probably on autopilot.

You're making requests of me. Should I be making requests of you?

"Stop," I say, softly.

Hesitantly, like you didn't hear me, you look at my face. "Stop?"

Your hand lifts off the toy. I realize I haven't been clear. I smile to myself.

"Not me. You."

Something in your face changes. Your hand halts on your shaft. While your other hand is away from the toy, I begin to remove it from my pussy.

"How do you like to touch it?" Your eyes don't leave mine. "Tease it for me," I request. "Please."

I move the toy back to my clit, going in search of a magic spot of my own. My breathing gets heavier, perhaps giving away to you that I'm following the directions I've given to you.

I'm having trouble focusing on you, your movements. But slowly, I see your fingers change direction. Gentle gestures start toward the head of your dick. I'm not sure what you're up to, but I'm completely sure you've done it before.

I half expect your hand to return to the toy, but no. You reach up with your other hand, putting your fingers around your base. I realize that your movements are simulating a cock ring.

How do you know how to do that?

I notice your eyes drift back down my body, slower than before.

"What are you looking at?" I can't help asking you.

"Everything,'" you exhale. "Everything on your gorgeous fucking body." Your words make me shiver. I have to slide the vibrator further away from the most sensitive parts of myself so I don't fall over the cliff too soon.

My sudden movements force your eyes back down to my toy-wielding hand, as if you weren't heading there already. "I love how wet you get. I want to put my fingers in it."

I feel my face get hot. Despite that, I find my voice. "What else do you want to do?" I need to know. I want to know. Tell me.

"Play with it. I want to play with your pussy. I would put my fingers in you and feel how wet you are. I want to lift up your top and play with your tits."

"No, you don't," I breathe. You're making me weak.

"I do," you confirm for me. "That's what I want." Your eyes flick back up to my face. "What do you want?"

My voice is lost again. "I can— I can't breathe," I stumble. I'm awfully confident when I'm requesting, but not so much when I'm sharing, huh? Possibly out of shame, my eyes close.

I feel a sudden shift in the weight on the bed. I open my eyes to see you leaning over me, your face close to mine, your body close to mine. You're bent over me, but still not touching me. You've freed one of your arms to support yourself, propping yourself up to one side of my body. Your other hand is still manipulating your cock, gently.

"You can tell me," you say softly, close to my ear. I can feel your breath on my face. "I won't tell anyone."

"No," I exhale.

"It's just for me," you say.

"Yes," I confirm.

"I love when you say yes."

"I'll always say yes to you," I admit to you. "I want to give in to you."

"Is that what you want?"

"Always," I say. Maybe that is what I want. "I want you to take me. Touch me everywhere. I want your cock to be mine. I want to kiss it. I want to hear your voice as I put it in my mouth. Then have you bend me over and put it in my pussy."

My hand travels back up my body and makes contact with the lace of my bra. I can't help but think of what you said a few moments ago about wanting to lift up my top. I begin to expose my breasts.

"My god," you say, as your eyes pivot down.

"I wish you would touch me. Did you want to touch them?" I ask, meaning my chest.

"Fuck yes," you say to me.

"Did you want to play with them?"

"Yes, damn it, you're going to make me come on you." A slightly pained expression takes over your face.

"Come on my tits. Please do it. Come all over them, baby. Make me dirty for you," I whine at you. I've never said these kinds of things to you before, and I can feel my own tremors starting. I press the toy further into a spot on my clit where I'm feeling it the most intensely. I know I'm not far.

I try not to think about it too hard, as my excitement for you reaches a denial and a height I don't know if we've ever reached in each other's presence before. Sure, we've fantasized about each other before. That's how we've survived being separated. We've admitted to touching ourselves to thoughts of each other before. But...in front of one another? Never.

In order for my brain to disconnect enough to make this a reality, I need to trust myself, and trust you. We've done so many of these components before, either separately or together, just in different combinations. We're just rearranging the dynamic. Right?

And so, I instinctively flutter my eyes closed as my orgasm beings to overtake my motor skills. It's arriving faster than I thought it might, but that's okay. I would rather it happen now than not at all. My voice almost can't keep up.

You don't have time to respond to my request to come on my chest. Suddenly, I am still talking, rambling in almost incomprehensible babble. If I didn't say the magic word you'd been waiting to hear, you may not make out the sentence at all.

"Babe, I'm going to come. I'm going to come; I'm coming for you."

"What?" you can't help asking.

"I can— can't—" I am unable to finish my sentence, which was likely going to be an explanation about how I can't stop what's about to happen. However, I don't think you would put up an argument.

My voice devolves into a series of pants, suppressed groans and heaved breathing. I roll through my orgasm, massaging the bullet over my clit in rotations that don't overwhelm me too much. I cannot make eye contact with you, as my neck has stretched outward, pulling my head further toward the headboard. My eyes might be open; they might be closed. Either way, I see nothing. I see colors. I hear music. I feel you, even though we aren't touching.

I recover enough to look at you again. You are nearly motionless, but still hovering directly above me. My muscles feel exhausted, but a bolt of giddiness runs through me, as sometimes happens. I stifle a giggle as I reach down and switch off the vibrator.

"That was amazing," you say, surprisingly serious.

I laugh again, then realize I was alone in my adventure.

"What about my request? What happened to that?" I look down at your body. You are neglecting yourself, likely focusing too much on what you were viewing.

A little caught off guard, you realize what I'm asking. "I guess you distracted me."

"Can I un-distract you?" I ask.

"If you really want to," you say. You lift yourself up again, returning back to your kneeling position. Your eyes survey my body again, including between my legs. "You still look so wet."

"I'm more wet, now." Your eyes get a bit wider. "Do you... want some?"

"Stop it."

"I'll give you some. But I... have to break the rules."

You say nothing, but you nod slowly. That's good enough for me.

I reach down and insert a finger into my pussy, now soaking wet and dripping from everything I've put it through. Then I add a second finger. In a motion I don't usually perform on myself, especially with my hand, I start to drag and pump my fingers in and out of my wet folds, bringing the moisture onto my hand, trying to extract it from the inside to the outside.

After retrieving as much as I can gather, I lean up slightly so I can reach you. For the first time tonight, possibly for the first time in years— I can't remember how long it's been— my wet hand makes contact with your hard cock. You are perfect.

I deposit whatever I can, in whatever way I can, onto your firm dick, still gently cradled in your hand as well. I feel your eyes on my face as I attempt to give you whatever wetness I have to offer. You have an awful lot of square inches to cover. It doesn't seem like enough.

In a quick decision, and one I hope doesn't make me look like a complete cock slut, I bring my sullied hand up to my mouth. It's not like I haven't tasted myself before.

I lick my palm as generously as I can muster, then return it to your equipment, soaking it further. I can already feel the difference. My hand slides around you more easily, even just in this brief encounter. I wish it weren't so brief.

Who came up with these rules, anyway?

Right. It was us.

I move my eyes back to your face. "Okay?" I ask.

Your mouth moves, as if you're about to say something, but no words come out. Have I left you speechless?

"Can you—" You hesitate. "Can you do that again?"

"What?" I ask. I don't know what you want me to repeat.

"Your fingers. Inside of you." Inwardly, I laugh a little. I don't think you've ever seen that before, and you're clearly enamored. I'm pleased.

And to be honest, I'll happily oblige. After being stimulated and vibrated and brought to climax once already tonight, my swollen pussy finds some sort of comfort in having a finger or two calmly inserted into it. My hand returns to my wetness.

You watch me as my fingers start to disappear again. Your hand begins to move along your length, as it was moving before. To my surprise, I feel small jolts of excitement seeing you start up again. Even in my post-orgasmic glow, satisfying any ache my vagina may have with my fingers, seeing you handle yourself like this and responding to the stimulus of my body and what I do to you is exciting. And my body can't deny it.

My other hand drifts back to my breasts. I can see you glancing toward them every now and then. I fondle them gently, giving them the treatment I'm sure you wish you could. Would you lick them if they were in reach of your mouth?

I didn't expect to get this excited all over again. You're making me want to touch my clit again.

"I'm going to come on you if you keep doing that," you tell me.

"I want you to come on me. I want to see you come," I say to you. I move my soaked fingers back to my clit, and start moving them in a light but rapid way. It won't take much at this stage. I'm primed for subtle multiples.

I hear a few muffled vulgarities escape your lips. The hand on your cock moves at a regular pace, though not too fast. Quickly, your second hand raises up, either as a means of controlling your climax, or touching yourself more. I don't care. Do what you have to do.

I don't hold back, either. My fingers fly across my clit, as if fingering a marble dipped in oil. I know I'm not capable of a high-flying banger of a big-O right now, but warm fluttery sensations fill my pelvis just as I see your body begin to stiffen. I am amazed at the vibrant movement of your cock as you let go, as your body pushes ejaculate onto mine. Just as promised, you cover my skin, up to and including my breasts, and even up to my lace bra.

My fingers don't stop. I am enjoying several waves of light sensations, buzzy and tingly, as you continue to empty yourself onto my torso. You hold yourself above me, less rigid than before. As you pass your peak, I can see you beginning to exhaust. I am feeling similar, and my fingers begin to halt.

Our eyes, focused mostly on each other's bodies for the past minute or so, finally reconnect. Silently, we both appear to have a similar realization at the same time, but say nothing: Wow.

Quickly, though, our need for recovery takes over. You suddenly fall to one side, and lie next to me on the bed. I, meanwhile, am hesitant to move, newly covered in your liquid gift. No offense, but, I need to do something about it.