On some levels, I can't disagree with her. This is pretty incredible. Yet on other levels, I would wholehearted disagree with her. Such devious torture!
Three, two, one. I start stroking again as the dwindling timer hits 12:30. This time, I'm not entranced by the clock. I take a look down and see the waitress has a black skirt and black hose or stockings. Heels on her feet, but not too high because she has to walk around all night. Then a random thought hits me. I'll bet that look around the theater before she sat down was just instinctive. A bar employee isn't supposed to sit down while on their shift. She wasn't looking around the theater to see if I was being watched. She was making sure that no one would see her sit down while on the clock!!
Giggling to myself on the inside, that realization somehow peaks my arousal, and I have to slow down a bit to keep from edging too early. I smile to myself and then look back up at the clock, five, four, three, two, one, "Edge."
I look up to her face again. She's not watching me this time, but looking toward the door. Gasping for breath as I've edged yet again, struggling to hold my cum inside as my arousal faintly subsides, I see you standing in the doorway with your hands folded under your breasts, essentially squeezing them together to exaggerate your cleavage. I swoon a little as I feel my arousal surge, and I have to concentrate to keep the cum in my cock. My breath catches as I almost lose it, and I see you begin to laugh out loud.
You look at the waitress as you say, "I'm not sure, but I think seeing me standing here just made him edge without even touching himself." I then hear the waitress start to giggle again, and it's all I can do keep myself at bay. After a few seconds I finally feel like I can safely breathe again. I take two deep breaths as I compose myself when I hear you say, "Three, two, one, go." I spin my head around and see 10:30 on the clock and start stroking. Slowly. I know I'm not far from the edge as I begin and lightly stroke myself. My balls feel like they're about to burst now. It's
almost as if I'm riding the edge instead of building up to it. There just wasn't enough time to recover this time.
Slowly I continue stroking, again entranced by the clock. Even though I'm watching the clock, it's as if time is moving in slow motion. I hear your voices talking, but I cannot comprehend what you're saying. My entire universe is limited to stroking my cock, watching the timer, and not cumming. After what feels like ten minutes, I finally hear in the background of my trance, "Five, four, three, two, one, stop." I take my hand away and time stands still for a moment. It's like the clock is stuck on 9:00 for a full minute. I'm completely out of it. Every ounce of my being is concentrated on holding in my cum. I don't know if I'm breathing. I don't know if the play has started again. I don't know if my heart is still beating.
Then I feel something pressed to my lips, and they instinctively open. *Cool* Mmmm, Crown and coke. I swallow, take a breath and audibly exhale, "Ahhhhhhhh." I look up and see you standing there smiling down at me, holding my drink in your hand. I blink rapidly a few times, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. It's almost as if I was hypnotized. Then you say to me in a stern voice that is all too familiar, "The timer is moving. Get yourself ready." And suddenly I'm back. I look around, the waitress is just staring at me, eyes wide in disbelief, mouth hanging open just a bit.
I look into her eyes and smile, and she smiles back. I look down at the clock, 8:34. Three, two, one. And I begin stroking again. I note that my orgasm subsided quite a bit this time. The drink really woke up the rest of me. I feel slightly refreshed. I'm able to stroke at a medium, steady pace. And then I see out of the corner of my eye, you stand next to the waitress and lean down and whisper something into her ear.
