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False Ending
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Anyway, my short story. If ya absolutly need a title, call it "False
Ending".
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She walks back into the bedroom, basking in her power rush.
Minutes ago, she was riding him at a strange angle that was mildly
uncomfortable for him, but it caused his magnificent cock to slide
right against her clitoris slowly until she collapsed in orgasm around
him. Then she had kissed his ear, neck, and chest fondly before she
left the room to let him cool down and rest. 'After all,' she
thought, 'he has some long hours ahead of him.'
"How are we feeling?" she asks, moving with a confident
viper's grace towards the bed. His muscular spread-eagled form,
glistening in the candle-light, jerks and strains in response to her
voice of honey-dipped silk. A voice that he had long ago learned to
associate with the devious, merciless, and overwhelmingly erotic
thoughts of his fantasies.
He only groans and pulls at his bonds weakly, knowing she
has something planned out. It was times like this that he was glad he
was blindfolded, unable to see her power-filled eyes that caused him
to shudder.
"My you look so desperate and vulnerable stretched out like
this." She lets her hand trail slowly up his thigh. "So open. So
helpless," she whispers as her hand cups his balls and gives them a
slight squeeze, not actually hurting him, but the threat blares loud
and clear. His toes violently twitch as he tries not to squirm in
panic. Her hand remains, massaging his balls in a way that has him
nervously whimpering at being litterally in the palm of her hand.
"Your balls are so tense. I don't think it would take much
more to make you come. I doubt it, but maybe you would come just from
me massaging your balls like this for an hour. Do you think you could
take this for an hour?"
His head raises and slams back against the pillows in horror,
"Please no! I couldn't take it! Please make me come now. I'll do
anything you say. Please let me come!"
She continues massaging his balls, letting him run out of
steam. Eventually, her hand leaves his balls to move up to his cock.
Her fingernails dancing lightly up and down the length causing it to
jerk and twitch. Her sweet voice pulses through him "It's so
wonderful how sensitive men get after an hour of teasing. Just the
slightest touch and they go nuts." She smiles at how his breath
catches from that statement. Her voice takes on a slightly more
penetrating tone:
"You know what's coming don't you? You know how I love to
take advantage of a extremely sensitive situation like this, don't
you?"
He knows. Panic grips him and holds him speechless,
breathless, mindless. He doesn't even moan as she works sensitising
lubricant into his cock.
Her heartbeat quickens with the rush of power, her body
tingles, her head starts to buzz, and the palm of her hand starts to
snake and writhe around the tip of his cock. He immeadiately begins
to whimper and squirm, fueling her lust, whipping her hand into a high
gear.
Sounds of his pleas, the creakings of the bed, and her
merciless banter fill the room. His brain overloads, sending him into
a realm where eternal bliss and agony combine. She tries something
new, gripping the base of his cock with her other hand and letting his
thrashing pump it. He doesn't even notice his orgasm approach and he
splashes into her hand, not even being able to gather enough breath to
scream.
She slows down with his orgasm, then removes his blindfold.
He looks up at her, drained, expecting to see a satisfied cheshire
grin on her face. It is over. She kisses him, then sits back,
grinning as expected, plus something extra. She still has fire in her
eyes, looking at him with a predator's glare. Her hand
absent-mindedly roams accross his chest, thighs, and pubic hair
picking off the dripped wax that had decorated his body over half an
hour ago.
"I hope you enjoyed yourself, but you didn't have permission
to come just then. Now I have to think of an appropriate punishment
don't I?.... Tell me, don't cocks get _really_ sensitive just after
they've come?"
Once again, her lubricated palm closes around his poor tip.
Suddenly, he realizes he was wrong...
It is FAR from over!
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