She trembles on the edge, biting her lip in an agony of straining muscles, strangled breath, quivering limbs.
She wants it so badly, craves that fall over the edge into ecstasy, after the delicious torment of the climb up, after the pleasure has rolled and twisted like a ball inside of her, dragging her up and up and into this space, to this moment, where she hangs for an eternity.
She pants and her fingers dance over her clit, stroking, circling, teasing, then pressing hard as she feels the pressure begin to build. She backs off deliberately when she knows the release is inevitable: stalling, stalling. Teasing; tormenting; holding herself back from the edge.
This is the place, the moment, she loves, almost as much as she loves the actual release, that sweet explosion, when it comes. Holding it back is an exquisite torment.
Up and down that mountain she climbs, teetering on the edge before forcing herself back down, only to start the climb all over again. Her thighs are slick with her juice, her abdominal muscles cramping, her breath is ragged and short. Still she persists.
And then it comes: “Come for me, slut.”
She gasps, cries out, and lets the orgasm crash over her, finally released.
She straddles the side of the tub, watching him through the glass walls of the shower. His eyes are closed; he leans back against one wall. Steam billows around him, the streaming water a song.
He holds his soapy cock in one fist, stroking up and down its length in an almost desultory way. He doesn’t have to do much to make it stand at attention. She can almost feel it in her own hand, wants it in her mouth. She watches his hand, then her gaze flits up to his face. She sees his lips move, a muscle in his cheek twitch.
His strokes are slow, his touch sure. Squeeze and pull, cup the head and then pull back down, squeezing all along his cock’s beautiful, perfect, length. She watches as his eyelids flicker with the movement of his eyes behind them. She wonders what he is fantasizing about. Is he thinking about her as she was last night, her wrists tied to the bed above her head, her legs to the bedposts, her body stretched taut between, as he alternated between whipping her breasts and thighs and pinching, mauling and manhandling her flesh? As he fucked her cunt and her ass with fingers and tongue and toys, before returning to the whip and crop once again? As he used her mouth to pleasure him, grinning as she choked, tears and snot running down her face before she swallowed his come in great gulping gasps? She feels her nipples harden at the memory, feels a dull echoing throb between her legs.
His hand is moving faster now, his mouth a taut line. She sees the muscles in his thighs flex, watches as he cups his balls and pulls on them. She is leaning forward, her nose almost touching the glass, her breath making steamy patches on the glass as she pants in time with him. Her body thrusts against the rim of the bathtub, miming his motion as his hand pumps up and down. Her mouth opens and the tip of her tongue pokes out, as though she will be there to catch his semen as it spurts out of him. And then it does, silky, opaque ejaculate that spills over his hand as he pumps a few more times, hunched over and gasping with the force of his orgasm.
He opens his eyes and sees her watching him. “Did I say you could do that?” he asks. “Did I give you permission to watch me?”
She ducks her head. “No, Sir. But I…couldn’t help myself…”
He continues washing himself, rinses and then points to his towel on the wall. She jumps up and retrieves it, then begins to dry him. When she is on her knees, drying his feet, he looks down at her. “Well I hope you can help yourself while I watch you, slut.” She looks up, startled.
“Lean back and fuck yourself for me.”
“Here? In the bathroom??”
“Did I stutter?”
“No…no Sir.” She leans back, begins to touch her swollen cunt.
“And don’t you dare come until I tell you to…”
This week’s prompt was “release”. Go see how others interpreted it by clicking the rainbow below!