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This is the final chapter of The Seven Day Orgasm series. Please don’t read this one first. You’re missing out on all the fun.
It was 9 o’clock in the morning.
She was naked on their bed, leaning against a stack of pillows on the headboard. Her legs were spread, and she drew circles on her clit with her index and middle fingers.
Her movements were slow, practiced. One circle per second. Her clitoral hood kneaded back and forth under the pressure of her fingertips.
Next to her on the bed lay a folded note that detailed the very position she found herself in, followed by an admonishment not to stop or slow down, followed by his signature.
She had read that note twenty minutes earlier, and despite the agonizing slowness of her motion she was swimming in stimulation, sweat beading on her skin, breathing labored, heartbeat quickened. The touch of anything to her clit was like lightning after last night’s exercise in frustration.
As the edge of orgasm materialized in her consciousness, he entered the doorway and admired her. She made eye contact, her mouth slightly agape from her heavy breathing.
“I’m close,” she told him.
“Control yourself like we practiced,” he replied, then walked over and sat on the edge of the bed while she continued her ministrations. “You will be able to stop soon.”
He looked her in the eye.
“Tonight at nine o’clock you will have an orgasm,” he said. “Between now and then, we are going to have a session of stimulating you every two hours.”
She struggled to focus on his words amidst the sensation of her fingers circling her delicate pearl. When her brain pieced together his strand of thought, she moaned involuntarily at the prospect.
“Some of the sessions will resemble what we’ve done this week, others will be new. I hate to say it, but I doubt you’ll be getting much done on your day off today.”
He stood up and looked down at her.
“You may stop,” he instructed.
She immediately complied, gasping out a sigh of relief mingled with a moan.
“No need to get dressed today,” he continued, turning from her and walking toward the door. “I expect you in the kitchen at eleven o’clock, sharp.”
She was bent over the kitchen table, the butt plug in her ass, the Hitachi vibrator pressed hard against the flared base.
The time on the stove read 11:24, and her eyes were tightly shut as she struggled to ride the edge of her orgasm without cumming.
He took away the Hitachi and she moaned, shaking her ass in his direction. With one hand he grabbed her ass cheek, holding her in place. The other hand he wrapped around the plug’s flared base and pulled, causing her to gasp as her rosebud surrendered the girth of the plug’s widest part. He slowly slid the length of the plug from her and stepped closer, pulling his cock from his jeans.
“Remember, no cumming,” he warned as he lined his substantial cock head up with her anus.
At the sensation of his flesh on hers, she gasped in surprise. He hadn’t been inside of her all week, or for that matter a significant time before this week. The idea of him about to penetrate her was almost enough to bring her right back to the edge.
She grunted when he put a hand on her shoulder and pressed the head of his cock against the ring of muscles that protected her most intimate of spaces. The butt plug and vibration had done it’s job, and her anus gave in to the pressure, enveloping his cock head as he thrust inside.
“Oh my god,” she groaned. His cock filled her more than the casino oyna plug. It was as wide the widest bulb of the dildo from several nights ago, and her asshole was wrapped taut around it.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered into her ear as he began sliding his meat in and out of her. “You won’t have to ride the edge for too long. Seeing you like this is enough to get me close.”
With one hand on her shoulder and the other grabbing a handful of her ass cheek, he rode her to his satisfaction while she mewling and quivered in an effort to avoid orgasm.
At 1:00, she sat down on an easy chair in their living room and opened her iPad to the erotic story he had queued up. She was still naked, and laid a towel beneath her so that she could sit without leaving a puddle on the upholstery.
He was sitting across from her sipping at a cup of coffee; reading something from his own iPad but sneaking a glance in her direction every chance he got.
The story was about a woman who had become so addicted to sex that she sought out gang bangs at sex parties just to achieve her quota of orgasmic pleasure.
By the time the story reached it’s conclusion, her heart was racing, her breath caught in her throat, and she squirmed in the seat.
“Go calm down for a bit,” he told her. “Take a nice bath or something. At three o’clock I’ll meet you in the basement.”
Still naked, she descended the rickety stairs into their unfinished basement as the clock struck three. The buzz of sexual excitement hadn’t faded from the earlier story. It was now a permanent presence, a tic that never left her mind. The coming orgasm for which she so longed loomed near, yet so far away.
He was standing amidst their cardboard storage boxes, their washer and dryer, and household boiler.
“Hands together,” he instructed as she arrived. She did so, and he took from behind his back a loop of rope, the other end of which was tied to the exposed rafter overhead.
She gulped audibly as she put together what that meant. Their exercises in bondage, now half of which had occurred in the last week, were always in bed. This set a different tone, and her pussy ached with desire as she tried to process what was about to happen.
He looped the rope around her wrists, tightened the slipknot, and pulled on the other end of the rope to hoist her arms over her head. When they were pulled tight, he tied a rope to each of her ankles and spread them so they were tied apart, one ankle to the foot of the washer, the other to the foot of the dryer.
Now completely helpless, he brought over a small bag and dumped out the contents. A blindfold. Coconut oil. The fan brush. The feathers. The Hitachi. And the little looped rope that he had used the previous night to bind her nipples.
Her eyes went wide.
“Oh no no no,” she whimpered as he slipped the blindfold over her head.
Thirty minutes later she dangled from the ropes that held her up, knees shaking as she came down from the edge of orgasm. Sweat covered her body. Her nipples were flushed bright pink from the same stimulation she had endured during the prior night’s session. Droplets of lubrication dripped from her ignored pussy onto the concrete floor.
He released the ropes that held her and gently lowered her to the ground.
“Five o’clock,” he whispered to her. “In the guest room.”
Their guest room, though ostensibly a place for guests to sleep, served more as the couple’s gym. A small bed occupied one corner, but most of the floor space was devoted to a workout canlı casino bench and an array of free weights and kettlebells.
She walked in at 5:00 and noticed the realistic dildo that had ravaged her pussy from two nights earlier sitting proudly on the weight bench. A small suction cup on the bottom held it in place, pointing toward the sky. Next to the dildo was a note. She picked it up.
“Ride me,” the note said, as if recounting an instruction from Alice in Wonderland.
She needed no encouragement.
He entered the guest room at 5:28 and found her squatting over the beast of a dildo, quivering in frustration and desire. She had her hands together on the bench in front of her and rode up and down in hyper-slow motion, gasping in shock with every inch of faux-cock that slid in and out of her.
“I’m edging so hard,” she groaned. “Please let me stop.”
He took a look at her glorious folds wrapped tight around the silicone intruder. A ring of cream had gathered at the dildo’s base.
“Go faster,” he told her. “One minute left, you can do it.”
She moaned in beautiful agony but dutifully increased the pace, and was soon bouncing on the dildo with abandon. Squeaks and groans escaped her parted lips as she struggled to contain the orgasm that circled her consciousness. Finally, mercifully, he stopped her just as she finished a down-stroke and her clit was touching the balls at the monster’s base.
“You can stop now,” he said. “Stay naked, and we’ll meet at seven o’clock in the backyard.”
They lived in a relatively private area, but she had never been outside naked before. The thought initially terrified her, but her wanton lust quickly overwhelmed that feeling with one of excitement. With the dildo still lodged in her to the hilt, it kept her riding the edge of orgasm.
A row of bushes and a fence screened their backyard from the neighbors, but despite that being outside always made her feel exposed.
She would have been filled with trepidation as she sat in their Adirondack chair, completely nude, were it not for the fact that she was struggling with the overwhelming pulsations of pleasure that coursed through her body.
One of her legs was draped over each arm of the chair, spreading her pussy wide open to him. He knelt before her, passing a stiff feather casually back and forth over her clitoral hood, and she squirmed at his touch in her pre-orgasmic trance.
“Just think,” he mused. “Only fifteen more minutes of this and you’ll get a nice break before you do the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”
It was 8:53. The door to their bedroom was closed. She stood naked outside, her heart hammering in her chest with excitement. This was the moment she had been waiting a week for. Yet he made no attempt to hide that it would also be a ferocious trial.
With a trembling hand, she opened the door.
He was there, naked as well, and when she entered he wordlessly gestured toward the bed.
She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him.
“How do you want me?” she asked, one final time.
“Like you were the first night,” he replied. “On your back, legs spread, soles of your feet touching.”
She moved into position.
“Take a look at the time,” he said. She glanced over at the clock placed in her field of view. It read 8:55.
From the nightstand he took out the Hitachi vibrator and placed it beside her. She gasped at the sight of it, her eyes wide. He took his time slotting the batteries and checking the setting.
“When that clock kaçak casino turns to 8:58,” he began. “I’m going to start working you over with this.”
He hoisting the Hitachi in the air for effect.
“If you can last for two minutes, you can cum when the clock strikes 9:00.”
“And what if I can’t hold it?” she demurely squeaked.
“Then you tell me you’re close,” he answered. “I’ll stop. I’ll tie you to the bed. I’ll get out the audio recording, and you can orgasm hands-free to the moans of somebody else getting their clit stimulated.”
Her face blanched. Two straight minutes with the Hitachi on her clit. The last time she attempted to put the Hitachi on her clit was three days ago, and she edged within a minute. And that was before the near constant stimulation she had endured since. She moaned in frustration as she imagined having to orgasm without anything touching her.
Even though the HItachi wasn’t yet vibrating, she gasped, a bead of sweat running down her face, as he touched it to her delicate folds. He applied some pressure and the head of the vibrator spread her labia, lubricating itself in the cream that liberally gathered at the entrance to her sex.
The head fully soaked in her juices, he rubbed it against her clit, and she moaned hard. The heavy head kneaded the flesh of her clit beneath it’s weight, rolling her pearl around as he rotated it in clockwise circles.
“Oohh baby,” she moaned, grabbing for his leg.
With a flick of his thumb, he activated the vibrator, and her world dissolved in an explosion of sensation. She flung her head back and cried out in shock, moaning and breathing like a woman in labor. Her chest heaved, a sheen of sweat pronounced on her pink flesh.
Beneath the Hitachi’s weight, her clit rippled helplessly against the vibrator, and a waterfall of pleasure filled her soul. Back arched, her hands scrambled for him, the comforter, ANYTHING.
Her orgasm materialized, a shimmer of energy in the distance, but it approached quickly.
Between mewls of agony and gasps of ecstasy she found her center of consciousness. The pleasure was there, overpowering her, consuming her, and she held it. As the earth shook and her orgasm whirled about her in threat she held the that center of consciousness as if it were a ball of pure joy and pleasure, watching it grow larger and brighter.
Her clit danced beneath the relentless onslaught of the vibrator, while in the astral realm the ball of pleasure at the center of her consciousness grew into a small sun, radiating pure carnal abandon into the void. Her orgasm quickened, becoming a blur as it spun around the sun.
Faster and brighter her center of consciousness flared until, exactly as the clock struck nine, it exploded in pure energy. Her brain melted, the boundaries of the universe shattered, reality dissolving as an orgasm the likes of which mankind had never known crashed all about her. Her cries woke the gods.
Wave after wave of pure kinetic release pulsated through her, and a mantra of oaths and moans issued from her flushed lips. She bucked her hips, grinding her clit into the head of the Hitachi. A tear streamed from her eye.
And when finally she managed to catch her breath, calm her heart, and open her eyes, the time of the clock read 9:02.
“You came for a loooong time,” he observed with a smile.
She smiled back and glanced down at his rigid erection as he rolled atop her, hooking her leg over her shoulder and parting her labia with the head of his cock.
They went on to fuck, in every way imaginable, for the better part of an hour.
During their marathon he counted at least a dozen orgasms. To her, however, it felt as though she were cumming the entire time.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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