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The Longest Time
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.
The Longest Time
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I have wanted to do this for the longest time.
In my bag I have four lengths of fabric--oh, and a darker one, for
your eyes. Could I simply darken the room? I could, but I want to
watch you, watch the responses of your body and your face. I want
to see how I affect you. I want to watch you as I move above you.
Yes. Take off your clothes. Do you know what I have planned?
Have you know all along? You must have known; as I said, I've
wanted this for a long time, even told you so. Until now, I've felt
the slightest timidity, but I think I can overcome that. Some things
are a bit more powerful than average, everyday shyness.
Take off your clothes, then, and lie down on the bed. Slowly--I
want to watch you, darling. As you pull your shirt over your head,
I see the smooth skin of your chest and the pinkness of your nipples.
As always, I am gripped by the urge to touch that smoothness, that
pinkness, and to hear the breath catch in your throat. But not yet.
For now I am only watching, directing you, instructing you in what
you must do.
Must do?
Yes. Must. You tease me sometimes, tell me that I should be more
dominating. As you wish, my love.
Take off your shorts, now. You bend over to push them aside and
your hair comes down over your shoulders, covering your face from
my view. But you are probably smiling, yes, I think you're smiling.
You push them down and straighten, kicking them off. As you stand I
am struck once again by the power of your beauty, and the ridiculous
feeling of weakness that takes me as I look at you, naked before me.
The novelty of being at my command has intrigued you; I can see that
much with the stiffening of your cock as you stand, being watched.
Being consumed. I want you all.
And, oh, I want to touch you. But I won't. I won't. Not yet. I want
to tease you, tease myself. Better to turn my head away and allow
you to arrange yourself before I give in to the compelling urge to feel
that flawless, pale skin under my hands.
Lie down. No compromise in my tone as I tell you this. You are indeed
at my command, since you offer no protest, no questioning look. You
lie down on the bed, glancing at me, wondering how to orient yourself to
suit me best.
I like this attitude. You realize that I am in charge. I tell you to lie on
your back, with your arms and legs spread out. I wonder if this can be
comfortable for you, and you are quick to assure me that it is. You seem
a bit eager.
Eagerness? Oh, no, that won't do at all. Instructing you to remain
still, I retrieve the lengths of fabric and the blindfold, making sure that
it is clear to you what I plan to do. Arms first, I think. I tie one end of
the fabric to your arm, and the other to the bedframe down at your sides.
Just enough tension, now. No motion and no discomfort. Perhaps I
am not harsh enough--in taking my pleasure I want to provide yours.
I tie first one arm, and then the other. I am careful to touch you as little
as possible. That will come later. I arrange your legs to be tied, bent
slightly at the knee and spread apart. One end around the ankle, the other
around the bedframe as before.
Secure. I step back to survey my handiwork. What a clever craftswoman
I am! You lie there on the bed, watching me, perfectly arranged. What a
nice picture you would make.
Does being so helpless, so much at my mercy, distress you? I don't think
so. Your body tells me that you are entirely comfortable with the situation.
But do I want you to be comfortable? I do like to keep you just a bit
off-balance, my dear--
So I retrieve the blindfold, once again assuring that you know my intentions
before I begin to fasten it around your eyes. Your face takes on an expression
of disappointment, but you are wise enough not to offer any verbal
complaint. I take your slight grimace as a compliment.
I would want to watch if I were in your place.
After tying the cloth around your eyes and assuring myself that you cannot see
me, I allow myself the indulgence of touching your face, the face that I
love to watch in all its moods--amusement, concentration, sincerity, and, now,
the smallest hint of frustration.
Just as I had planned.
I begin to speak softly to you. Does the sound of my voice speaking of such
things excite you? The blindfold allows you to listen without distraction to
the things I say to you, and I hope my words are eliciting some vivid images
for you to consider.
"Do you know how deliciously vulnerable you are right now, darling? Your
whole body is fair game, you know. Perhaps I could begin with my usual,
gradual approach, kissing your mouth as I draw my hands down over your
collarbone and down onto your chest, brushing over your nipples with my
fingers. Squeezing them gently between my fingers as I rub my cheek against
the smoothness of yours.
"But what if I tried something different? I could move straight to your
nipples with my mouth, closing my lips around one, then the other, a more
direct approach. Teasing you with my tongue, sucking gently, then harder,
or lightly nipping at you with my teeth. Touching them with the lightest of
touches, brushing them back and forth over the wetness that my mouth has
left there.
"Plenty of options here, really. What if I were to take your cock in my hands
first, feeling the velvety skin there as I gripped you, feeling the way your
body would jerk in surprise as I stroked the sensitive head with my fingertips.
I could wrap my hands around you and stroke you, gently, as I've watched
you do it.
"Or--and I am partial to this method--I could simply take you in my mouth.
I'd like to feel you resting on my tongue, tighten my lips around you, and
move as I know you'd want me to, taking you deep into my mouth and sucking
as I advanced and withdrew."
But these are just ideas, and perhaps I won't even voice them. I have a
suspicion that you are already considering them as I watch you. I like to
think that I understand most of your desires. I know that I am willing to
gratify them--
But now you will gratify mine. I begin to undress, describing the process
to you as I do so. First my shirt, over my head, the fabric brushing against
my nipples as I remove it, exciting me. My shorts, now, then my panties,
which have already become slightly damp simply from the sight of you and
from the thoughts I have been entertaining.
You can't see me as I stand here above you, naked and eager for your touch.
The thought excites me even more, and I begin to taunt you a bit. "My whole
body is ready for you," I tell you softly, "but you aren't in much of a
position to help. It's really too bad." I tell you how my nipples are hard
already, as I think about the feel of your tongue and your lips as you kiss
them. I tell you about the deep ache that has begun between my legs as I think
about the firm, gentle touch of your fingers. I tell you about the warmth and
the wetness of my cunt as I imagine the feel of your cock as you enter me at
first, that fine first feeling of being spread wide apart.
And what a wicked girl I am! I delight in knowing that you are becoming more
and more frustrated as I speak to you, telling you all about how willing and
ready I am--I delight in hearing the breath come faster and in watching the
slight unconscious movement of your hips.
As if in apology for my glee at seeing you so helpless, I bend to kiss you,
careful to keep my body from touching yours. I kiss your cheek and you turn
your head to catch my mouth with your own. A breach of discipline, yes, but
not a serious one, and one I reproach only by seeking the other cheek and not
your mouth that waits for the attention of mine. I take your face in my hands
and hold you still, gently, for that seems to be necessary. I bend and
kiss you
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lips, stroking your face as my tongue seeks yours. You seem to understand that
I am in charge, that you are not to be the aggressor tonight. You return my
kiss, but with a docility that is unusual in you.
I like it. I believe I may be developing a taste for control.
I kiss down your neck, not the lingering, trailing kisses that are my
preference, but deep, random kisses that leave some doubt as to where the next
will fall. I choose each spot carefully, deliberately. I want you to understand
that you are an important subject, one to be studied with some concentration.
As if by accident, I allow my breasts to press against you briefly, moving away
after only a few seconds of contact.
Then my hands move down from the softness of your cheeks to your chest,
to grasp your nipples suddenly. The unexpected firmess of my touch surprises
you, and you whimper softly. Was that a protest? Am I hurting you? Oh, no.
I know the way to touch you. My lips form a kiss at the base of your throat
as my fingers stroke you more tenderly, just my fingertips across the
hardened pink points. I trail my tongue down the hollow of your throat and
down your chest, and bring my mouth down onto your right nipple first, the
less sensitive one. I tease you with my tongue, still touching you with my
fingers on your other side, moving one in concert with the other. I flutter
the tip with my tongue as I rub you swiftly and lightly wth my fingers.
Then, an abrupt change as I switch sides. The wetness under my fingertip
seems to excite you as I take your left nipple in my mouth. As I begin to suck
you, I squeeze you with my fingers and I feel the movement of your hips.
Now, you know you are not allowed to move. I didn't say so, but I shouldn't
have had to. I move away from you. "Don't move," I command, and your
motion stops.
And I look at you, the long, extended boy stretched out there on the bed.
I take in the slight flush of arousal across your chest, the nipples that are
a deeper pink than usual, and the stiff cock that juts out and demands
attention.
I haven't touched you there yet. Shall I now? Shall I take you in my hands
and stroke you, feeling the drop of wetness that has formed at the tip, then
extend my tongue to lick you? Shall I draw the head of your cock across
my tongue, hard, causing your breath to come fast and the wordless sounds
to form in your throat? Shall I take you in as far as I can, allowing
your cock to approach the back of my throat?
Oh, not yet. No, not yet.
I bend to remove the blindfold from your eyes, and you blink at the brightness.
Your eyes meet mine and I see that you are enjoying this little game, though
your eagerness to have it over is apparent. You want to be inside me, I think.
Oh, not yet.
I stand in front of you and bring my hands down my body, touching myself as
you might if you were able. Down over my breasts, but not yet lingering there,
and down my hips, over my thighs. Back to my breasts, now, rubbing my
nipples with my palms. I have wanted your touch there, but my own will do
for now. I tease myself with my fingers, touching myself as I had touched
you a moment before, very lightly with my fingertips. I squeeze my nipples
gently, cupping first one breast, then the other, as you watch me.
Wouldn't you rather be touching me now?
I play with my nipples for a long time, imagining your hands on my body,
simulating your touch. I lick my fingertips so I can imagine that your mouth
is there--
It isn't a perfect substitute, but it is enough, more than enough, to intensify
the feeling of heaviness between my legs. I hope you won't mind; I think I
should sit down for this.
I arrange myself between your legs that have been spread wide so you can
watch me, placing my legs across yours and tilting my hips up. I reach
down and, with a single finger, trace along the outer lips of my cunt,
touching myself as lightly as I can bear to, enjoying the warm feeling
that begins to spread. Then I begin stroking the slick inner recesses--
I surprise myself by the heat there, and by the way my touch makes me
tremble.
Part of that is knowing that you're watching me. No blindfold allowed
for this.
I use my fingers to spread some of my moisture up to my clit, which
is swollen and stiff with excitement. I am still toying with my nipples,
first one, then the other, as I stroke myself with one finger. As the
pressure builds, I force myself to stop, though it is almost impossible--
I am about to come, and, oh, I want to, but I also want to save that for
you. In appreciation for being such an entertaining plaything.
I still haven't touched your cock, and looking at you reminds me how
much I'd like to. I arrange myself so that I am kneeling between your legs,
and I take you in my mouth. The direct approach, you see.
And you know I love to lick you, to tease you, to hear the sounds you
make as I excite you further. I take you in my mouth as deeply as I can,
guiding you in with my hands that are still wet with my own moisture.
I feel your body move as I fuck you with my mouth, pausing occasionally
to draw my tongue over the head, to grasp you with my hands, or to
stroke down behind your balls.
I won't make you come, not this way, but it is delicious to have this kind
of power over you. The power to please, or the power to torment. I
prefer to please and to torment, I think.
Abruptly I let you slide from my mouth, just as I know your excitement
is building. I move up between your legs to take one of your nipples in
my mouth again. Your cock brushes against the valley between my
breasts, and my nipples are stimulated by the feel of the coarse, curly
hair there.
You are ready for me, I know, and I am almost ready for you. I straddle
you and lower myself so that your cock is situated not inside me but along
my cunt, so I can use you as I please. I guide you with my hands, stroking
my clit with the tip of your cock, moving my hips so that I can feel the
entire length of you. I moe back and forth, exciting myself almost to
orgasm again, until I realize that you are moving with me.
You're ready. You are, and so am I. But one last thing--
Ignoring your sigh of disappointment, I move myself up so that your mouth
can meet me with ease. You know what is expected of you, and you seize
the opportunity, licking me and forcing your tongue into me as I caress
my breasts again. I imagine that you can taste me, and I wonder vaguely
whether you like it, but it is difficult to concentrate on any coherent
thoughts as you begin to suck on my clit.
Oh, and I know I have to move soon, because I don't want to come until
you're inside me. You know that sometimes I move away after I've come,
because the pleasure is simply too intense. This time, though, I retreat
beforehand, and it is pure torture.
I don't care about being in charge anymore--I have to get you inside me.
I resume my position of earlier and come down hard upon you. As soon
as you are within me I begin to come. Can't help it. I've been ready for
a long time, now. I'm not moving yet. Just the feel of your cock, hard
and solid, is enough.
You're smiling at me. I'm not sure I like the smugness of that smile,
my love. As soon as the last tremors of my orgasm subside, I move
away from you, slowly, and let your cock slide out of me. Your look
of deprivation assures me that you have been adequately reminded
who is on top.
Good. Such reminders can be neccessary sometimes.
But I have to smile at your eagerness, an eagerness that I share. I
take you inside me again, feeling you deep, moving slowly, agonizingly
slowly, onto and off of your cock. I move as you would want me to,
because now I am concerned not so much with controlling you as pleasing
you.
And usually your hands would come to my hips, guiding me, moderating
the speed of my motions. I retain some control, then, as I fuck you,
placing my hands on your chest to caress your skin. Your hips are coming
up to meet mine, and I make no protest. It's time.
The feeling of pressure begins to build inside me again as you move with
me, and I am coming again. Now I am the one who is helpless, because at
this moment I am lost to the feeling of release and the rocking of your
body.
After I recover somewhat, I resume my motions in earnest, and I know
that you are about to come as well. I know the signs by now. I increase
the attention to your chest, stroking the skin there, gently massaging
you and feeling the hardness of your nipples. As your body stiffens
and your orgasm begins, I squeeze your nipples, hard, and I know that
I have pleased you. I can feel your body moving, hear your breath and
your surprised gasps, and I can feel you, hot and explosive inside me.
I bend to kiss your nipples as you begin to relax. The stiffness leaves
your body as you thrust up to meet me for a last few times, and my
hands come up to your face to caress you as I lay my body against
yours for the first time since we began.
I think you would put your arms around me if you could. Soon.
Soon--right now I want to lie and listen to your heartbeat. And
remember that it was I who caused this. And remember who is
in charge.
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