Juxtaposition


If you’ve indulged in any form of group-sex activity, the chances are that you have watched your partner have sex with another person. In these situations, you are either an active participant, or are watching after having been involved in your own activity, or are waiting to take you part in this, or some other activity. In any event, you are either an active participant or actively on the periphery and it’s all extremely hot and everyone (hopefully) has a great time.

An altogether different experience is when you are required to watch your partner have sex with someone else and you are not able to participate in any way, not even able to play with yourself; the only thing you can do and watch. It is a situation that, as part of our poly-circle, I have experienced on a number of occasions; bound and restrained to a chair, unable to move, unable to complain past the gag in my mouth watching as Master C pleasures and takes pleasure from one of the other women in the circle.

It’s a strange mix and mash-up of emotions to watch in such a situation. On the one hand, I am happy for Master C that he is experiencing whatever pleasure being with the other woman gives Him, but obviously it hurts that it is not me that is the source of that pleasure. I can feel joy for the woman’s pleasure, knowing how expertly Master C will use His mouth, His hands, His tongue, His cock to give her pleasure while He takes His from her, but I will still feel a sadness and envy that it is not me that is feeling those things.

As she sucks His cock, I can see from the expression on Master C’s face and the sounds that He is making, that He is enjoying her mouth and I am happy for Him that He can enjoy it; while at the same time I am frustrated that I am not the cause of those reactions.

As Master C fucks her right there, long and hard in front of me, I know exactly what she is feeling. I know how good it must be for her to be fucked by Him, but I want it to be me, I year to have Master C’s cock inside me, doing to me what He is doing to her.

When Master C feasts on her cunt, driving her to the brink of climax and holding her there, I know exactly what she is experiencing. I know what it feels like, that exquisite balance of pleasure and frustration, the intense waves of pleasure and the urgent need for release. I am happy for her, I empathise with her, I sympathise with her, and I also hate her, because it should be me being held mercilessly on the edge waiting for release, not her. Master C should be feasting on me, driving me wild. I know He is enjoying the taste of her cunt, I know He is savouring her response to the expert application of His tongue. I know she is enjoying it. And I so want it to be me.

When at last, Master C comes, showering her skin with a thick load of His lovely, thick cum, I can rejoice in His climax, and yet feel an emptiness that His load was not my reward but hers.

The whole experience, for me, is one of frustration and humiliation, and yet, I am extremely turned on. My cunt is wet, I squirm uncomfortable in my bindings against the hard wooden seat below my naked buttocks.

The other woman’s partner unties me, and beckons me to join him. Master C instructs the other woman to take my place on the chair before proceeding to gag and bind her, just as I had been gagged and bound just moments before.

I kneel before the other man, take His cock in my mouth. Now it is her turn to watch and suffer.

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At His mercy


I’m on my back. My wrists are bound and tied, above my head, to the rail of the headboard. My legs frog-tied with rough rope that digs simultaneously into my thighs, calves and shins, the knots pressing into my skin. My legs spread as wide as the can in that arrangement, my ankles cuffed the tied to the outsides of the bed.

I can’t move. I’m blindfolded. I’m forced to wait.

Master C runs a finger over then around the curve of each of my breasts. His fingers then butterfly caress the insides of my thighs. The cold, hardness of a well-lubed, brushed-steel plug presses against my arsehole and slowly pushes inside.

I wait again.

Kisses on the inside of my thighs.

A gentle tickle of the ends of the flogger over my nipples.

Each action followed by more agonising nothing.

Hot breath on my labia. Fingers running up the insides of my legs. Master C’s mouth is so close, but so far away, and then it is gone.

Clamps applied to my nipples. The sweet exquisite pain makes me cry out, makes my cunt contract. Master C tightens them with a deft twist. My cunt grows wetter.

Again, the warmth o f His breath is so close. If I could just move, I’d push my mound against His lips, The licks and kisses to my thighs torment me. So close, so close, and then they are gone.

More waiting; each second an eternity.

My head is turned to one side. Master C pushes the head of His cock into my mouth. I accept it gratefully, something to distract me from His torment.

As I tease the tip with my tongue, His finger slides between my legs, parts my labia and slips easily inside me. I gasp. Master C’s cock slips from my mouth. His finger is withdrawn from my cunt and he puts it in my mouth. I taste myself as I have done so many times before.

His finger returns to my cunt and he feeds me my juices again. I accept them willingly, grateful to be required to do something more than just passively await His next action. His fingers then His cock each take it in turns in my mouth. I want to suck Him properly. I want to feel Him erupt in my mouth so I can savour His cum before swallowing it, but it’s not to be.

More waiting.

Again, His mouth approaches. He kisses my left thigh, then right; left, then right, each time getting inexorably closer. Seconds pass, minutes, an eternity of agonising anticipation.

And then, contact. Master C’s tongue touches me. “You taste divine, little one,” He says as He begins to slowly lick and tease.

I want to writhe, but all I can to is wriggle my bum against the bed. I want to reach down and press His face to my cunt, forcing Him to eat me more firmly,

I am at His mercy, He licks and nibbles, fingers and flicks in a way that He knows will take me to the edge and then holds me there. Each lap of his tongue on my clit increases the pressure inside me. Each thrust of His fingers inside my cunt makes its walls contract and has me begging for release.

Master C’s tongue is relentless. His stubble is rough against my labia, increasing the sensations. His fingers twist inside me. The onslaught is unending.

Again an eternity of agony, not of anticipation, but for the need for release. I screw my eyes shut beneath the blindfold, lights flash beneath my eyelids. Fire burns along my nerves. My clit throbs, my cunt pulses, but still Master C denies me.

I have no idea how long He holds me in this state; time is meaningless on the edge of the abyss. The cloth over my eyes is soaked with tears of frustration. The sheet beneath my bottom is soaked with my juices and His saliva. The scent of my frustration hangs over the bed, filling the room. My throat raw as I plead and beg for release.

“Soon, little one, soon,” Master C’s  are anything but soothing “Endure it for just a little longer.”

Resigned to my fate, I accept it. His tongue laps with a slightly greater intensity; His fingers fuck me with increased force. Pressure builds, mounting rapidly.

“Now, little one! Come for me now!” Master C gently commands.

A firm lick of His tongue, and I am undone. The dam breaks and I cry out. Waves of pleasure coarse through me. I sense Master C move above me. His cock slides inside me. My orgasm reignites as He fucks me with deep, powerful, forceful strokes.

“Please fuck me harder! Please fuck me harder! Please…” I moan, still carried on the crest of my climax.

Master C’s thrusts become faster, harder. His hands around my upper arms, farcing them into the mattress as He takes me.

His body collides with mine. The slap of skin on skin reverberates around the room. Master C moans my name as His climax approaches, “Morag! Morag! Morag!”

“Come for me Master,” I plead, “Release yourself inside me.”

Thrusts increase with urgency, His breathing deepens. I sense rather than feel the increased tension in His body.

In… Out… In… Out… In… A groan… A pause… He erupts inside me; the warmth of His essence flooding into me.

Some time later, Master C unties me, up around us and lets me snuggle into Him as He holds me close and secure in His arms and I feel the heat of His body against mine. Once again, Master C has restored me and made me His.

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Throat wank


With my arms restrained beside me, Master C tilts my head back. I dutifully open my mouth. The head of His cock slips between my lips, followed by the shaft. Master C pushes slowly and firmly into me, inch by thick, delicious inch of him. And then that wonderful moment when His balls rest against my nose, His shortly trimmed pubic hair tickles my lips, and the swollen head of His cock lodges deep in my throat.

He stops; not because I can’t take any more, but because there is no more of Him to take. Every inch, every last fraction has been fed to me.

I am well trained, but I still gag slightly, choking around the thickness of His cock as it restricts my airway. Saliva fills my mouth and it is impossible to swallow. It trickles from the corners of my mouth, down my up-turned cheeks. Some of it dribbles into my nostrils, making it still harder to breath.

Master C’s cock begins to move; long, slow, deliberate and forceful strokes. I gasp for air each time He pulls back, filling my lungs, not knowing when my next breath will be allowed.

He pushes in. His hands go around my neck. His thumbs press down firmly, squeezing my neck between them and His cock. Master C holds me there for long breathless moments, each one seeming like an eternity, until He finally relents and pulls back.

I have mere seconds to exhale and refill my lungs before Master C repeats the process, each time starving me that little bit longer, each time making me more desperate, making each breath being sweeter than the one that preceded it.

And then, something new.

As Master C holds me at the deepest point of He traces the outline of His cock with His thumb and finger. I can feel every ridge, every contour of His cock as He runs His thumb along the shape of the shaft and over the head. I hear him groan. I feel His cock twitch. He works His thumb up and down my neck, rubbing His cock through my skin. He is wanking himself, wanking His cock inside my throat by pressing it through my neck.

Master C’s breathing deepens. His hips rock slightly, moving His cock in short thrusts as He presses down. His thumb concentrates on the ridge where the head joins the shaft; that spot that gives him so much pleasure when He takes himself in hand, or when I stroke him.

Those involuntary movements of His hips tell me Master C is getting close. His grip around my neck tightens as He tries to increase the pressure on His cock. My throat is raw. My jaw aches. He is so close.

I feel it first in His balls as they contract and tighten against my face. I can almost feel His cum surge through Him. A strangled gasp escapes from between Master C’s lips. His hands fall from my neck as He braces himself. He erupts, deep in my throat, far beyond my tastebuds.

I begin to choke. Mercifully He pulls out. I let my tongue trail over His shaft as Master C extracts himself from my throat.

Sobbing and gasping in air, I let him move me; lifting my head, placing a cushion beneath it, stroking my hair, making me comfortable and telling me I am His “good girl”.

I would smile at His words, but my jaw is too stiff.

He kisses me.

He holds me.

He restores me again.

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An evening in the life of…


Master C is sitting on the sofa. I am on the floor between His legs. Almost inevitably, His cock is in my mouth. That isn’t how things started; originally I’d been facing the other way and Master C had been giving me a very nice head, neck and shoulder rub.

I’d mentioned previously that, on the work front, this had been quite a difficult week for me, but it had also taken it’s toll on Master C. His job is stressful and difficult at the best of times, and the current situation is just multiplying that. On top of that, He has to contend with me being extra needy so, after all the care and consideration Master C had shown me over the past few days, I decided some reciprocation was required and took things into my own hands and, from there, into my mouth.

I don’t know how long I’d already spent, licking and kissing, teasing the shaft, head and tip with my lips and tongue, being rewarded with numerous contented sighs, moans and groans. At some point though, I decided that what I really needed was to have Master C’s lovely thick, hard cock in my mouth.

I love sucking cock. I particularly love sucking Master C’s cock. I am absolutely certain that if you put me blindfolded in a room of men, and made me take each one in my mouth, aside from making me deliriously happy at the prospect, my lips would be able to identify  Master C’s cock just from the long familiar knowledge if its thickness, circumference and every ridge and ripple on its surface.

I love sliding my lips slowly down the length of Him, taking Him deep, having the head of His cock lodge in the back of my throat. I start slowly, up and down, back and forth, swallowing involuntarily when He is fully inside, swirling my tongue around the head and over the tip when I slide back up.

The experience of having done this to Him countless times over the years means I know His responses. I can feel the tenseness grow in His thighs and abdomen as my mouth works its magic. I hear the change in His breathing as the pressure mounts. The throbbing in His cock signals His increased heartrate. His sighs and moans of pleasure become ever more pronounced.

Master C moans my name as I begin to work my mouth a little bit faster. He tells me what a “good girl” I am as I suck a little harder. His hips begin to thrust a little, forcing His cock into my mouth. Master C resists the urge to start fucking my mouth, He wants to enjoy my attentions. The urge within Him to grab my head and drive His cock into my throat is hard to resist and dong so increases the pressure building in side.

I can taste His essence, I can sense the nearness of His climax. I’m torn, wanting Him to come, to erupt in my mouth so I can savour His load, but also wanting Him to savour this moment for as long as He can.

The involuntary movements of  His hips increase, His breathing is more laboured. I know Master C is holding back, fighting to delay the inevitable; not to deny me my reward, but to keep this moment going for as long as possible.

Faster, my head bobs up and down, taking His cock deep, sucking hard. A familiar twitching warns me that He cannot hold on for much longer. I slide my lips back until only the head remains in my mouth. I suck, hard, flicking my tongue over the slit, tasting the nearness of His release.

Seconds that seem like ages pass. The fingers of Master C’s left hand grip my  right shoulder. I look up and see the train around His eyes, that pre-climax tightness in the set of His jaw. And Then, like the flicking of a light switch, His face relaxes and moans softly. A moment later, I feel the familiar surge as His load is forced up His cock an pumped violently into my mouth.

His cum fills my mouth, pooling on my tongue. Master C’s rich, sticky manly essence is the reward for my efforts. I swallow hungrily then suck the remaining drops from Him. Finally, letting His cock slip from between my lips, I savour the last of His cum, swirling it around my mouth with, He tells me later, a look of dreamy contentment on my face.

I swallow and look up, smiling. Master C smiles back. “Good girl,” He says softly, “You are my very, very good girl.” I smile, knowing that I will almost certainly be rewarded more later but, until then, I am content to climb up on to the sofa and snuggle into Him while He recovers.

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Romance?


The alarm clock hasn’t gone off and we’re having our wake-up snuggle. Spooned together, I can feel the firmness of Master C’s early morning erection press against me. I wriggle against it.

Master C’s hand cups and squeezes my boob. His thumb flicks over my nipple. It stiffens in response and I squirm against Him.

He kisses my neck, then announces, quite simply, “I’m going to put my bit inside your bit and slide it in and out until I release a quantity of sticky fluid inside you.”

Master C disentangles His arm from under me as I roll on to my back and open my legs.

He moves above me, His cock pressing against the entrance of my cunt. “I’m putting it inside you now,” He says, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, yes please, please put your bit inside mine,” I reply, not altogether succeeding in keeping a straight face.

I moan softly as Master C  slides into me and duly begins to “move His bit in and out of mine”. Slowly at first, but with firm and steady strokes, filling and stretching my “bit” with His.

The pace increases, as does the force of Master C’s thrusts. Before long, He is fucking my with an urgency that is matched by mine. “Keep moving!” I urge, “Please, uhh… keep moving, ahh… inside me ohh!”

He does; harder, and still more forcefully. I know this phase; in this moment He is lost to me. In this moment, it isn’t me He is fucking; He is simply just fucking. In these moments Master C is at His most primal; rational thought has been replaced with animal instinct. I close my eyes and arch my back beneath His as my own body begins to respond in kind.

My climax ignites. My “bit” tightens around His, griping it as it powers into me. Through the daze of my orgasm, I can sense the approach of His; the sharpness of His breathing, the tension in His body, the urgency of His movements.

And then He comes. A long, strong, surging thrust as He releases inside me, followed by a series of shorter, less urgent ones as He rides the waves of His climax.

We lie, side by side, a tangle of arms, legs and hair. The air filled with the scent of our fucking.

“Did Sir enjoy moving His bit inside mine?” I enquire coyly.

“Sir did indeed,” He replied. “Did you enjoy me moving mine and releasing my fluid inside you?”

“Oh yes, definitely! My bit always enjoys playing host to yours, although other bits are feeling a little jealous of the attention that bit got.”

“They needn’t worry,” He replies, “Those bits will be seen to later.”

We both laugh at our continued whimsy.

The alarm clock makes its presence known. Another day begins. Who says romance is dead?

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The look on His face


I love watching his facial expressions as Master C approaches, then reaches, the point of climax.

Now, depending on the position I’m in when Master C is fucking me, I don’t always get to see His “come face”, but when I do, I love watching that juxtaposition of pain, pleasure, tension and, finally, release as He unloads His cum inside me or over me.

When you’ve been in a relationship for a while, you become attuned to your partner’s sexual responses: those little noises, the involuntary flinches, the intakes of breath, the changes in expression. We all have our sexual tics and tells, the little giveaways that indicate our state of arousal.

As a poly couple, sometimes, assuming I’m not too engrossed in my own activities, and sometimes even when I am, I get to watch Master C enjoying another woman. That deeply intimate knowledge of Him means that with just a single glance, I can tell by His face; the tightness of His jaw, the tension on His forehead, the lines around His eyes, just when He is about to come. Sometimes in these situations, just knowing that Master C is there, helpless in the throes of His impending orgasm as the other woman sucks His cock, or as He fucks her, is all that it takes to trigger my own response. Indeed, even when we are on our own and I’m sucking hungrily on His cock or stroking it with my hands, those little signs are all that are needed for me to match my orgasm to His.

Most of all, however, I love that final grimace just before Master C erupts, and knowing that I am the cause of it. I love knowing that, in that moment of exquisite agony, I, His loving and devoted submissive, have caused Him  to lose control. In that one instant Master C, who usually is so strong and assured and so full of self-control, is every bit as vulnerable as everyone else is at the point of orgasm; helpless, driven, unable to resist.

There is, however, one thing that I love even more. As His cum floods my cunt, or fills my mouth, or splashes over my skin, the tension is released, the angry beast has, once more, been tamed, and His face takes on that post-orgasmic, wearily contented smile; the smile that reassures me that I have pleased Him, that I have given Him the relief that He needed so badly.

Yes, I love watching His face as Master C comes.

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Breathless


Hands cuffed behind my back. The gag firmly in my mouth. Master C pulls my head sharply back by my hair.

His belt tightens around my neck, digging into my skin as He fucks my arse with deep, long, powerful thrusts.

My cheeks are flushed, tears flow from my eyes. I am lightheaded; a combination of lust and lack of air.

My lungs burn. My jaw aches around the gag’s ball, stifling my whimpers as His cock sinks deep into my back passage, again and again.

The belt tightens. With each thrust of Master C‘s cock, the pressure slowly increases, starving me of air.

I close my eyes. I can feel the blood burning in my veins. I long for Him to come, to release me from this deliciously breathless agony.

The lack of air heightens my other senses. My nipples throb against the pegs fastened to them. My scalp burns where Master C tugs my hair. My arse… Oh my poor, tortured, abused arse. It hurts so much, but it feels so good.

Dizziness. Arousal. Pain. Pleasure. The hardness of Master C‘s cock. The agony of my oxygen starved lungs. They all coil together, combining in untold ways to heighten my already intense pleasure.

The staccato hammering of His cock in my arse increases. I can almost feel it swell inside me.

Master C lets my hair go as He pulls out. The pressure around my neck lightens slightly. “I’m coming for you, my filthy little slut, I’m coming!” He groans and I feel the warmth of his explosion against my skin.

Master C releases the cuffs, removes the gag and kisses me lightly, delicately, lovingly.

“Now come for me, little slut, your Master wants to watch His slut come,” He says softly.

As the circulation returns to my fingers, I reach between my legs to comply…

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Punished for my pleasure


So, having spent almost the whole of yesterday getting myself well and truly fucked senseless by “The Other Guy”, it was only right that last night I faced a reckoning for my actions.

Bent, bare arsed over Master C’s knee, I proceeded to tell Him all about my activities of the previous hours. Every now and then, my narration would be punctuated with a resounding slap of His hand against my arse as I recounted some particularly naughty transgression. My arse was already stinging by the time I finished my account, telling Master C how I had packed “The Other Guy” off to work on the late shift with a smile on his face after a final farewell blow-job.

As is always the case, I was required to assess my performance. How slutty had I been? How much pleasure had I given “The Other Guy”? How well had I attended to his needs and wants? What punishment did my wanton sluttiness deserve?

It was agreed that I deserved Master C’s belt. That was pretty much a given in these circumstances. It was also agreed that my blatant hedonism was deserving of 10 lashes.

However, as I have mentioned before, Master C is a fair Master and He decided that the level of pleasure I had given “The Other Guy” over the best part of a whole day, especially the selflessness of the final blow-job deserved leniency. My punishment then was to be 8 lashes; 4 to each cheek.

My arse was already hot from where His hand had slapped it as I took position. I waited for the first kiss of His belt.

SLAP! “Count them!”

“Ahhh, one…”

SLAP!

“Ohhhh, t…two”

SLAP!

And so it continued, with me sobbing out each number as the leather bit into my skin; my eyes hot with tears.

The final lash landed. I was sobbing through the pain as I stammered out “ei…eight.”

Master C gripped my hips; His fingers pressed into my tortured skin as He pushed His wonderful cock inside me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head roughly back as He fucked me, hard, powerfully, without mercy.

In and out, again and again, over and over; Master C‘s cock drove deep into my cunt. He tugged on my hair, slapped my arse, called me His “filthy little slut” as his cock abused me.

And then He was gone. I felt a sudden emptiness where He had been as He spun me around. I watched, transfixed, frozen to the spot as Master C stroked His lovely cock in front of me.

One stroke, two, then a third, and then He erupted; showering His cum over my neck and boobs before forcing His cock between my lips to suck away the final traces.

“Play with yourself, slut, I permit you to come now,” He ordered.

I closed my eyes, rubbed His cum into my skin with one hand while I fingered my cunt with the other.

“Come for me, little one,” He said softly, encouragingly, “come for your Master.”

I didn’t take me long; Master C‘s soft words of encouragement helped me along as my clit throbbed beneath my fingers.

“I’m coming, Sir!” I sobbed. “Your little slut is coming for you.”

As the sensations claimed me, Master C  kissed me lightly on the forehead. “Good girl,” He said, “You are my very good little girl.”

I think I pleased Him…

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Starting the day


I wake up feeling warm and relaxed. I can feel Master C‘s body, hard and warm behind me as He holds me close, His breath hot against my neck. I wriggle gently against Him, letting him know I am awake; pressing back against His early morning erection.

A kiss on my neck, a gentle squeeze of my boob is all it takes to ignite my desire. I moan softly and rock my hips, Master C‘s cock slips between my legs.

His hand travels over my body, starting with my boobs; my nipples stiffen as He gently teases them. The stubble on His chin scratches my shoulder as He nuzzles into my neck and I feel my cunt respond, growing warmer and moister with every second.

His hand slides lower; I part my legs slightly to ease His access. A finger slips between my lower lips and works its way inside me.  I moan and grind myself against Master C‘s hand. My cunt grows wetter and hotter as my body responds to His attentions.

He slips his finger from my cunt. I take His hand and lift it to my mouth. I take His finger between my lips, tasting myself.

I reach down between my legs. I wrap my fingers around Master C‘s cock and begin to rub the head between my lips and over my clit; teasing myself, building my arousal.

His hands caress my boobs; His fingers tease my nipples. Tingles run through me as I work the head of His cock over my clit.

I shift on to my back, Master C moves above, positioning himself between my legs. His cock, presses against me; I spread my legs slightly, moving, my hips, to accept Him.

He pushes into me; I clutch at His back as His cock fills me.

Our bodies move; He sinks into me, slowly but forcefully, filling me, stretching me. His pubic bone grinds against my clit, neurons spark in the pleasure centres of my brain.

The pace increases. Hearts pound, breathing quickens., my body begins to shake, my cunt grips Master C‘s cock tightly.

He pushes harder. My orgasm builds inside me. I moan more loudly as I let the pleasure wash over me.

He groans. His body tenses. A strangled gasp escapes Him as erupts inside me, filling me with His seed; hot, thick and sticky inside me.

Master C collapses on to me, breathing hard, pinning me beneath Him. He rolls off, we cling to each other, holding each other close as His cum begins to dribble from my cunt.

We doze; that languid post-fuck drowsiness holds us until the alarm clock sounds and a new day starts.

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When I touch myself


What goes through my head when I touch myself?

So many things, so many images.

Sometimes it’s a girl stroking my clit with her tongue, gently fucking me with her fingers. Sometimes it’s a guy, fucking me hard and deep, his thick cock filling me.

Sometimes I do nothing more than concentrate on the sensations; a combination of masturbation and meditation.

The thing is, the imagery isn’t really important, it’s the sensations that matter; the warm aroused feeling that spreads through me, the pulsing of my cunt and womb as the sensations become ever more intense, the throbbing of my clit as my fingers press against it.

The image in my head, a stray naughty thought, a particular feeling can give my response a context, a focus, pushing me to the edge.

When I come, the sensations consume all else. I am no longer thinking, I am no longer imagining, I am simply experiencing. My orgasm is all there is and I am at the eye of its storm, helpless in its grip as it takes me where it will.

That’s what happens when I touch myself…

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