Tag: masturbation

Does feeling that length within your palm make you that little wetter? Feeling it pulse to your touch. You can imagine how it would feel sliding right where these fingers are. I can feel how it turns you on as well to know that it doesn’t stop even when you try to push that hand away. Letting you know that
when this pulsing, swollen cock replaces those fingers, there won’t be any way to hold it back.

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Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source from: Nubile Films

Your favourite little game. You are always pushing one another to the breaking point while trying your best to control it, to push those feelings down just a little deeper than her. You try so hard not to climax before her, but hearing those moans and feeling the gyrations and little trembles makes it much more intense. 

Does knowing exactly how she is feeling make it easier? Or harder? 

That burning pleasure rising constantly within you, the wetness around your fingers a signal of the orgasm you want to release; you need it to overcome her. Perhaps this time, when your thighs clench, and your moans turn to gasps, that’s when she’ll give in and come. If not, can you last another moment rocking on the edge?

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Indulge

No matter what your deepest desires are, let your private moments of pleasure take you on the most intense of journeys.

Indulge in your wildest fantasies, safe in the knowledge that those little moments of joy are yours and yours alone.

Explore yourself to your fullest, bask in the eroticism, and make it last.

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The Masseuse (Her November)

(His November)

Another person’s fingertips trailing over her body is all she craved. She’d happily give up a month of masturbation in order to feel the sensations she had enjoyed at the massage parlour. The prospect of submitting to the stimulation in that way, with every touch and every caress focused solely on her, was too enticing to pass up.

The ruined orgasm played on her mind throughout November. For the first couple of weeks, she focused on the frustration, how her pussy convulsed in longing for so much more and how the sense of emptiness that the ruined orgasm brought remained with her. She wanted those cruel fingertips back where they were, teasing her clitoris and penetrating her intensely, squeezing around them as if it were her body pleading for them not to stop fucking her.

For the last couple of weeks in November, she instead focused on the joy that even the ruined orgasm brought. The sensation of pleasure lifted to the surface, and the jolts of ecstasy that slipped through the cracks of frustration.

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The Masseuse (His November)

The Masseuse and The Masseuse Part II

One month, that’s all it would be. He thought it would be difficult, he never expected it would be hellish.

It would have been so much easier, he thought, if his last orgasm was at least fulfilling, at least truly enjoyable. Instead, the masseuse had ended with a ruined orgasm, dashing hopes of a pleasurable climax before sending him away with the instruction to go a month of denial before returning. All he needed to do was get through November, and finally he assumed he’d get the orgasmic release he needed.

He longed for the massage table, to feel the masseuse and her apprentice’s warm, feminine hands caress his naked body. It was extremely difficult to abstain from touching himself at night when that was all he could picture. The way their hands coated him all over, how soft their palms felt against his throbbing member, how teasing their fingertips were each time it twitched.

Even work was difficult; as the days turned into weeks, it became harder to think about anything other than sex. Every titillating image or suggestive comment turned his mind to mush. It was as if, within the first week, he realised just how much free time he had, even at work, free time which led to more fantasies churning in his mind. While the urge to masturbate at night wasn’t as strong as expected, the urge to watch porn was greater than ever. He avoided it to ensure he wouldn’t be tempted. He wanted to last the entire month.

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Watching him penetrate her makes you wonder how it must feel to have a part of your body inside that soft wetness. That slick little space is so hot, smooth and inviting that even your fingers want to slip within; the desire must be unbearable for that hard cock. Your eyes can’t keep from lingering on her. How you know just what it feels like to be taken that way, the fulfilment of having it thrust so deeply inside.

Your fingers work as hard and fast as that cock pounding her so intently, knowing that as she trembles and quivers in the throes of orgasm, your own pleasure will want to spill over. But no, you will hold it back once again, ready for him to fuck you just the same, to let him feel all that pent-up longing surrounding his length the moment he presses himself within that dripping wet haven. You want to come just like her. You won’t. You will merely watch her climax as they watch you shudder on the brink again and again.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Image source: Nubilefilms

Those fingers tease down towards your sex so tentatively, doing your best to stop yourself from working faster, imagining another’s fingertips tantalising you, savouring your thrusts of desire. Longingly you trail downwards, casting a line of attention directly towards where he would want to focus on. You imagine his intentions, yet just the thought of him getting ready to pounce on you sends a rush through your body. The thought of him spreading your legs and eating you out until you were a screaming, begging mess of pleasure.

You’ve edged yourself many times, yet for some reason, today feels so much harder, as if the tightness of your lingerie makes you so aware of the parts it covers, so aware of how much others would want to strip you right now, to masturbate you relentlessly, to pin you down and take turns denying you until you were writhing in need. The idea of them all waiting and anticipating clamping their mouths around and burying their tongues within your dripping wet pussy makes you quiver on the verge of orgasm.

Finally, as you back off and begin again, your thoughts turn to your current situation, alone in the room and indulging so much in your pleasures and fantasies. The way you can make your own body feel so much, how you so relish the way you can torment yourself, to push yourself to the brink of what your sex can handle. The thought of how your own fingertips can make you moan in such ecstasy makes you almost wish you weren’t so cruel to yourself, just so you could feel that orgasmic release right this second.

You know you can’t hold your orgasm back much longer. You are going to allow yourself to come very soon, though the question is simply what thought is going to be the one that you come to.

Content created by: PleasureTorture

Submission by: annabell-leigh

“Stop,” the word that never fails to send a devastating rush through her overstimulated mind. Finally brought back to the reality of her situation, the reality of what control her own fingertips have against the backdrop of her desires. If only the reality would mirror her fantasies, that of being able to dictate when she could climax.

Centre stage, she continues once again, the limits of passion engulfing every inch of her body, the gazes that sweep over her seem to touch like fingertips, as if every pair of eyes brushes tantalisingly along her skin. She wants to beg them one by one for the orgasm that has been denied for so long, though it is clear that these men and women watching her are here for the pleasure being witnessed, with no intention of letting it subside so soon. Her eyes begin anew their search for someone who might show some mercy, scanning the figures, some sitting and some standing but all dressed smartly for this sexual display, for some look of consent for release. Against the gentle backdrop of whispered chat and the sharp tap of wine glasses occasionally being placed on tables, her outpouring moans and sighs of pleasure takes centre stage.  

Fingers slickly coated with her own juices, she stops again as she feels herself teetering on the brink, a dull, aching pulse resonating from her clitoris, being her body’s only means of retaliation for such denial. She focuses on a couple who stands at the foot of the large bed as she begins stroking again. Mouthing the word ‘please’ to the man, she wants him to imagine what it must feel like inside her right now, how her tenderness must be quivering in need, how if he’d give the permission for her to come, how he could imagine feeling himself wrapped within those tight, convulsing folds of silken delight. The man merely smiles and continues to enjoy the delight, all while caressing his partner, who is savouring the sight just as much. For a moment, she thinks of how the light, folding around her body like a sheet, must be illuminating every detail of her dripping wet, glistening sex. The thought makes her reach the edge of orgasm so fiercely that she has to clasp her legs shut in order not to risk going over.

“Open them,” comes the hushed yet no less commanding order from a woman watching to the side, one of the closest people around her. Every feeling of desperation, of animalistic need, of agonising arousal, seems to instantly melt away to reveal the purest pleasure she has ever felt. The control of her own body, of her own pleasure, being held in the palms of not only those around her, but specifically this woman watching with such intent, makes her sexuality feel like the most important thing in the world, the very centre of existence.

Looking deeply into this woman’s eyes, she holds her gaze while her fingers slip within, seeming to explore herself deeper than she’d ever felt before. With her gaze held the whole time, through the ebbing tide of impending orgasm, her eyes convey one simple truth. This right now was the most wonderful, erotic experience of her life.

Photography by: Deckmara

Written by: PleasureTorture