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The darkness was more than just an absence of light. It was a total experience. There were no noises to disrupt the silence also. I could almost imagine I was alone. Except for the fact that I had been lightly tied to the headboard. Time had lost it's meaning as I lie there in the ever deepening darkness. My skin seemed to be super sensitive. I was naked in the bed. And the ceiling fan had been put on low. There was no noise, no gentle swishing noise from the blades. There was only a coolness wafting across my nude body. There was no noise coming from living room, where I think he had gone to sit, and wait. He knew how to let my mind do the work. My wanderings, imaginings, could also heighten my emotions, when I was left alone to allow them to do so.
I had shaved earlier in the evening, in anticipation of some sweet lovemaking. I had not anticipated that he would change the rules on me. After I had shaved him, and brought him to a heated climax while he lie on the bed, he had calmly tied my hands with barely a word spoken. My God, he has hands had been gentle, but firm. Yet he had not touched me in a sexual manner. He had tied my hands, and then turned out the lights, turned on the fan, and closed the doors. I was alone in the darkness, with only my thoughts to dream up the most outlandish things.
Suddenly the door opened. I saw him enter the room, back lit by the light from the living room. He carried a candle. When he set the candle on the low night-stand I could smell its sweet scent. He stood there in silence, just staring down at my naked body. I saw a small smile curl his lips as his eyes touched on my full breasts, pulled upwards into enticing mounds by my position. My nipples were peaked, and hard. They were eager to be suckled by his hot, hungry mouth. I watched in anticipation, which seemed to grow beyond all bearable bounds, as he slowly leaned over my body. He was going to touch me. I knew it. I was so sure of it, every muscle and sinew in my body tensed in eager, passionate anticipatory desire. I could feel his breath, as his mouth hovered over my right nipple. My body lifted towards him, asking, seeking, and begging for his kiss. I needed him to suck my nipple so crazily, so insanely, that when he only licked it, I moaned out, almost in deprived pain. He smiled at me, then turned away, and again left me in the silent dark.
Moments passed as I lie there in the dark. The fan overhead made the wetness his tongue had left behind on my right nipple an excruciating pleasure and pain. My nipple got tighter, harder, more aroused as the fan teased me. I shifted on the bed. I became aware of the gathering moisture between my thighs. He had not restrained my legs. I shifted more. I spread my legs, and the faint breeze from the fan reached the wetness on my pussy lips. The skin was faultlessly smooth. The moisture was dried as quickly as my passion was reforming it. I finally squeezed my thighs sharply together. I could feel my juices growing, gathering, and spreading over my lips. The wetness flowed forward as he squeezed my thighs harder together. The wetness touched my hidden love button, my clit. I moaned as I squeezed even harder. I began rocking my hips against the bed. I felt like I was riding a horse, squeezing my thighs harder and tighter together, as I rocked, and pivoted, and ground my hips around on the bed.
How long I squirmed around like that I don't know. I longed to have that one touch, the one sensitive, necessary touch on my clit. That one touch would pivot me over the edge. I knew it. I could feel the waves of passion rising in my lower body. I was so hot, sweating, in spite of the cooling breeze of the slow fan overhead. Dear Lord, how much longer could I lie here, halfway to heaven and release? If only I could free one hand, one finger is all I would need, I thought to myself. I bit my lower lip, as I earnestly tried to free my right hand. I wriggled, and pulled, and strained, but he had tied me much better and tighter than ever before. I spread my thighs again, in the hopes that the breeze would cool me down. The air blew over my wet pussy lips, my wet upper thighs.
The door opened again. As he came across the room, he could see my spread thighs. He saw the wetness on my upper thighs. He noticed the soft sheen of sweat on my body. He came and stood next to the bed. He lowered one hand, slowly, exquisitely, torturing in it's slowness. He let his hand hover over my right breast. My body twisted and tried to close the gap between his offering flesh and my needful, questing flesh. And then he cupped my full breast. He just let his hand rest there, as the breeze brushed over us both. Then he closed his hand, and massaged my breast, firmly, with a sure and practiced touch that could so easily evoke my passion. He knew what my body liked, craved. And he provided just enough to tease me. He released my breast, and paused to toy with my taut, distended nipple. He whispered in the darkness. "Your tits are very sensitive tonight, my love. I am sure that I could make you come just playing with your tits. Do you think so?"
He paused as he again resumed his massaging of the breast. He would stop and flick my nipple, squeeze it, roll it between is adept fingers. His fingers, his hand was so skillful, so tender, so loving, that I whispered a hoarse 'yes.' Over and over he teased my breast. Finally, he released my breast and his hand, one finger stroking down my tummy, over my shaven mound, between my pussy lips it went. He smiled as he stroked my smooth pussy. He pulled his finger forth as he found my wetness, gushing anew. He stroked each nipple with the wetness on his finger. There was enough moisture to cover each distended nipple completely. And then, he left me again.
I nearly cried out to him to come back, please. To please return and give me release from this torture. How much more could I bear, I wondered? Could a person go insane from unsatiated desire I thought on a half-serious laugh? Again the breeze, soft, gentle, slow from the fan worked it's magic on my flesh. My nipples were keenly sensitive now. I was beginning to think I would come if he just returned to squeeze my breasts, suck my nipples. And the wetness was again gathering between my thighs. Every erotic thought I had was making it worse. My desire was growing, and there was still no sign of satiation that I could see. I licked my parched lips. My breathing was rapid from desire. My breasts were jiggling softly from my rapid breathing now. I couldn't stop the rocking movement in my hips. I seemed to be doing it without thought. Each rock, back to front, side to side, would provide exquisite torturous friction to my distended, hypersensitive clit. On and on, alone in the darkness, I lie. My passion was at a fever pitch. I felt if I could only squeeze my thighs a bit tighter, move my hips a bit more, I could reach a volcanic climax, alone. So close, each time I squeezed my thighs and rocked my hips and still, I couldn't quite reach it. I moaned in my desire. And the door swung open again. I watched him cross the room towards me. This time he stood next to the bed, and I made no effort to stop my writhing hips against the bed, my thighs were squeezing hard together, seeking satiation. He smiled. He knew what I wanted. He knew what I needed. He again lowered one hand. This time though, his hand went straight to my pussy. He stroked my outer lips and mound only. His touch was light, teasing in it's approach. He praised my shaving. He said my skin felt as smooth as satin, or perhaps it was silk. His fingers delved inside for a moment to gather my wetness. He spread my wetness over my mound. Then he said it felt like wet silk and he laughed softly.
He surprised me by leaning over, and kissing my right nipple, while his fingers lightly stroked and played with my freshly shaven pussy. He suckled my nipple deeply inside his mouth, licking, tonguing the tender, taut bit of flesh. He was a master at the art of teasing seduction. I acceded him the title in that moment of insane desire. He raised his head, his fingers still teasing my pussy, my lips, and he kissed my parted lips. He drank my breath into his body, and his fingers finally entered my body. He stroked me gently, teasingly. My hips ground and writhed in eagerness for his touch.
He took me higher and higher. My passion was nearly beyond all bounds. I was near screaming, when once again he completely deserted my body. Without saying a word, he walked out of the room and closed the door. I know he heard me scream "No!" but he didn't stop.
Oh God! I thought. I can't stand this. Immediately I squeezed my thighs together, pressing hard, wanting and needing release. My hips rocked wildly on the bed. I could feel my breasts bouncing and jiggling with my movements. Harder and harder I rocked and squeezed. I was so close and yet I couldn't reach it alone.
The door opened again. He crossed the room without a single word. His hand lowered, I watched in anticipation, and need. Good God, where would he touch me this time? Where would he leave me wanting and needing so much more? One finger touched my body. That was all. His finger insinuated itself and found my clit. All it took was two very careful, clever flicks of his finger, and I came all over his finger, his hand, my pussy, my upper thighs. Dear God, I drenched the bed I came so hard and fast. As I lay, stunned, in near disbelief, I felt his hands releasing my own. Slowly, in a sensual haze I lowered my arms to my sides. I couldn't move anymore than that. I was exhausted. He pulled the covers up over my body. He leaned over and lightly kissed my mouth. He told me sleep, he knew I needed it. And then, he left me again, alone in the darkness.
© m'lyn 1999
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