My Experiment

It's been two weeks since I've had an orgasm. I'm accustomed to having at least one a day, and sometimes many more than that, if I'm feeling particularly lubricious. There have been days where I go to bed with my cunt sore, swollen and dripping from the constant masturbation and countless orgasms. Fourteen days ago, I decided to try something a little different. I decided to see what would happen if I tortured myself with masturbation, but didn't have a single orgasm. The experiment has been a rewarding one so far. The masochist in me relishes the torment of being brought to the trembling edge of climax and then being forced away from it, over and over again. I love the feeling of complete frustration, the flushed skin, the sweat, the knots of tension in my abdomen, the trembling limbs.

By day fourteen, my body has become exquisitely sensitive. Right now I'm sitting on a stool at the end of the bar in my favorite haunt, and there is a bullet vibrator buzzing against my clit. The remote control for the vibe is in the pocket of my jeans, set to low. Every now and again my hips give a helpless jerk on the bar stool and I have to bite my lower lip to hold back a groan. My face is flushed and I'm breathing too fast, almost panting. I look around at the other customers and wonder if any of them realize that they are sitting near a woman who is on the verge of orgasm. None of them appear to be watching me. I sip my drink and then cross my legs so that the bullet presses hard on my clit. I rock back and forth, teasing myself, my thighs and belly trembling with the effort to hold back the orgasm. Right before I reach the point of no return, I stop rocking. I spread my legs, lessening the pressure of the vibe on my clit,

"Is everything alright?" someone asks. I look up and see that it's Owen, the bartender.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say. I'm breathless, and he doesn't look convinced. He studies my face for a moment and then his gaze flicks down the v-neck of my top. I wonder if he notices the flush creeping up my breasts. I slurp down the rest of my drink.

"Would you like another?" Owen asks.

"Just a glass of water please, and then I'll close out." I say. It's almost last call. I decide that I'm going to finish my water and then go home. Once I get there, I'm going to bring the experiment to its conclusion. I'll give myself as many orgasms as I can stand, then go to sleep. I reach into my pocket and turn the vibrator up to medium. I gasp and then give a little groan. I'm so close. I wonder what it would be like to come right here at the bar, in front of everyone. I grind myself helplessly against the vibrator, the seam of my tight jeans pressing the bullet against my clit. At that moment Owen returns with my water and the check.

"Here you go," he says. I reach for the check, but my hand is trembling so badly that I knock my glass over instead. Owen steps out from behind the bar to mop up the spill, and I stoop to start picking up ice cubes. When I bend down, the controller for the vibrator pops out of my pocket and clatters to the ground. The battery compartment springs open and double A's go rolling across the floor. The vibrations against my clit cease and I freeze, my face heating. I glance at Owen and wonder if he knows what he's looking at.

He picks the controller up, retrieves the batteries and pops them back into their compartments. The vibrator buzzes into life and I moan at the suddenness of it, my hips giving a couple of little thrusts before I can stop them. Owen smiles at me, the controller for the vibrator still in his hand. "I thought there was something going on with you tonight" he says. "You're even less talkative than usual."

I stare at him, trying to take deep breaths and to ignore the vibrations against my clit. My face feels like it has turned purple. Of all the people who could catch me, of course it has to be Owen. I've had a huge crush on him ever since I started going to this bar three years ago, and he knows it. He seems to enjoy watching me turn into a red-faced, stammering moron whenever he flirts with me. It's amazing how easy it is for an attractive man to rob me of all composure. At the moment, I am so far from composed that it's surprising I'm not attracting the attention of everyone in the bar. I stare down at my hands, trying to think of something to say.

"My ex-girlfriend had something like this," Owen says, and almost idly, he thumbs the button on the vibrator's controller up a notch. The buzzing against my clit intensifies and I jerk, gasping and trying not to moan. My entire body feels flushed and hot. Tension coils inside of me, made up of a giddy conglomeration of fear, humiliation, exultation, and aching arousal. A part of me wants him to turn the vibe all the way up, to force me to a violent climax right in the middle of the bar where everyone can see me. Another part of me wants to run back home as fast as it can.

I manage to look into Owen's eyes, trying to read his expression, and when I do so, he turns the vibe up one more notch. My body arches, poised on the very brink of orgasm. Then he hits the button again. The vibrations diminish and he hands the controller back to me. He smiles and says, "I'm going to be making last call in about half an hour. Would you like to stick around and have a drink with me after I close up shop?"

"A drink?"

His smile widens. "At least to start with."

I look at him for a few moments without speaking. Then, forcing my embarrassment into a separate compartment of my being, I say, "I'd like that."

"Good," Owen says. "Let me get you another water." He bustles off and I take the opportunity to turn the vibe down to its lowest setting and slip the controller back into my pocket.

The next hour passes in a blur of color, heat, and dull pleasure. I drink water and watch Owen work while I try not to focus too much on the vibrator tormenting my swollen clit. He does an efficient job of getting the bar closed down and getting customers herded out the door. In a little over an hour the place is clean, still, and silent. I don't talk to Owen as he does the last chores of the night. I don't know what to say. I've never done anything like this before, and now doubt is creeping in. Embarrassment returns in greater force, and I find myself staring down at my hands, my head bowed so that my hair obscures my face.

I hear Owen come out from behind the bar where he has been wiping down bottles. He stands very close to me. "Why are you hiding from me?" he says.

"Suddenly, I'm feeling very shy," I say.

"You didn't feel shy in front of a whole roomful of people, but you feel shy now that it's just me?"

I nod. When he puts it that way, it does seem kind of strange, but that doesn't change how I feel. Being alone with Owen makes me feel far more vulnerable than being on the verge of orgasm in the middle of a roomful of strangers. That feeling of vulnerability makes my pulse race and my breath quicken. It darkens the flush in my cheeks and gives the throbbing between my legs a deeper, more urgent timbre.

"Why do you think that is?" He asks.

My eyes flick upward, and when they meet his for a moment, a jolt goes through me. I drop my gaze to my hands again and say, "Because it's more intimate this way, more personal." I try to swallow but my throat is dry. "Also, you intimidate me."

"Why do I intimidate you?" He sounds amused.

I wasn't expecting him to ask so many questions. I had imagined something more along the lines of him ripping my clothes off and having his way with me up against the bar. It's difficult to think clearly with so many conflicting feelings roiling around inside my brain. "You intimidate me because I'm attracted to you, and you know that I am."

"Did it occur to you that I might be attracted to you too?"

"That idea doesn't usually occur to me," I say. "I just thought that you liked to watch me blush."

He laughs. "Oh I do. But there are lots of things I like about you besides the way you blush." He puts a hand beneath my chin and presses gently until I raise my face to look at him. He brushes my hair back and says, "You don't have to embarrassed around me. I like you, and I like that you're kinky." He strokes my hair, then leans forward. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," I say.

My lips pout in anticipation, but he backs away from me. "Stand up," he says. I obey, rising from the bar stool and standing with my arms held awkwardly by my sides, and my gaze fixed on the floor. The vibrator pulses between my legs, making it hard to stand still. Owen comes very close to me, and one of his arms slips around my waist, pressing me against him. He lowers his face towards mine. His lips apply gentle pressure, and when I stiffen a little, my own lips firming, he curls one hand around the nape of my neck and begins to stroke my hair. I start to relax. My lips part for him and his tongue slips into my mouth, exploring me, tasting me. He shifts, and I feel one of his thighs press against my crotch, pushing the vibrator more firmly against my clit. I gasp into his mouth and I can't help but grind myself against him. I can feel his hard cock pressing against my belly through his jeans, and I suddenly want to have it my hands, I want to stroke it and suck it, and feel it pounding inside of me.

Owen breaks the kiss, and says, "Give me the controller for your vibrator." I reach into my pocket and hand it to him. He presses a button, and the buzzing against my clit intensifies. I moan, and Owen wraps his arms around me, his thigh going back to press between my legs. He fastens his mouth over mine and kisses me hard, rocking his body slowly back and forth so that the bullet moves against my clit. The tension rises in my abdomen and I start to tremble all over. I throw my arms around his neck and grind myself against him, moaning into his mouth as he kisses me.

I take my mouth from his long enough to say "Oh fuck, I'm going to come."

As soon as the words leave my lips, the vibrations slow and then stop. I blink up at Owen, feeling dazed and almost groggy with pleasure. "I don't want you to come yet," He says. He kisses me again, hard but brief, and then pulls away. "Come upstairs with me," He says, taking my hand and pulling me towards a door at the far end of the bar.

"What's upstairs?" It takes an effort to speak coherently.

"My apartment," Owen says. I let him lead me across the room. He pulls a ring of keys out of his pocket and uses one of them to unlock the door.

"You live above the bar?"

"I own the place," he says, leading me up a steep staircase. "I like to be on site." We emerge from the staircase into a clean living room containing a couple of big black leather couches. The walls are decorated with framed vintage album covers, groups like The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, and more I can't recognize at a glance. Owen sprawls onto one of the couches and looks at me as I stand in the middle of the room, studiously avoiding his eyes. I see him pull the controller for the vibrator out of his pocket and hold down the power button. The bullet begins to buzz at its highest setting, and I groan, my hands clenching into fists, my hips jerking. "Tell me when you're about to come," Owen says.

I cry out and almost trip over my own feet, but somehow manage not to go sprawling onto the floor. I clench my thighs together, trembling all over. "I can't hold off for much longer," I say. The vibrations remain at the same level for a few moments, and I moan loud and long. Then Owen depresses the button on the controller, and just as I am about to dissolve completely, the vibrations cease. The orgasm recedes, and I sigh, my body relaxing.

"I want you to take your clothes off for me," Owen says.

Heat stings my cheeks, but my hands go to the hem of my shirt and I pull it over my head. I unzip my jeans and shimmy out of them, then I kick the discarded garments to one side and stand before Owen in my lacy black bra and panties.

"Those are very pretty," he says, smiling. He rises from the couch, and my heart beat accelerates as he approaches me. He runs his hands up and down my body, then he reaches for the clasp of my bra. "But I think they need to come off. I want you naked." Deftly, he unhooks my bra and pulls it off of me. He cups my breasts in his hands and his thumbs begin to stroke my nipples, which harden at once. I groan. It feels almost as if his fingers are stroking my clit. He grasps my nipples between his fingers and pinches hard, lifting my breasts away from my body, pulling me towards him, pressing me against him.

Then he releases my tits and wraps his arms around me, lowering his head to kiss me hard. He takes one of my hands and guides it to the crotch of his jeans. He presses my palm against the firmness of his cock, and I can feel its heat even through the layers of cloth. It is definitely the biggest cock I have ever encountered. He takes his hand away from mine, but I continue to explore him, tracing the outline of his dick with my fingers, and then folding my hand over the length of him and squeezing gently. He gives a soft moan, moving against me, and a pulse of pure desire ripples through my body. "Can I please suck your cock?" I say, shocking myself.

"Of course," Owen says, laughing a little. "But later. I want to eat your pussy first."

That brings the blush back to my cheeks in a scalding flood. "I've never done that before." I say, my eyes seeking the floor again.

"Really?"

"Yes," I say. "I've never been with someone who wanted to do it."

"Then the guys you dated were idiots," Owen says, running his hands gently over the curves of my body. He kisses me, lips drawing at me, tongue slipping inside my mouth and stroking. When he pulls away from me he asks, "How many times have you come today?"

"None," I say.

He raises his eyebrows. "When was the the last time you had an orgasm then?"

"Two weeks ago." It's hard to form words with him so close to me. His mouth is pressed up against my ear, and I can feel his breath on my throat.

"Why so long?"

"I wanted to torture myself," I say.

"I like the way you think," Owen says, grinning. He wraps the full length of my hair around his wrist and bends my head back so that I'm looking up into his face, into his eyes. "I want you to take your panties off and take out your vibe. Then I want you to sit down on the couch and spread your legs."

I do as he tells me, first slipping out of my panties then removing the vibrator, and setting both of them down on a table beside the couch. I settle myself onto one of large leather cushions so that my legs are splayed apart, displaying my pussy to Owen, who still stands in the middle of the room. The exposure of this position makes my heart thud faster.

Owen steps towards me and then crouches down so that he is kneeling between my legs. He starts kissing my inner thighs. His lips are hot, and as he works his way towards my cunt, he gives the occasional bite, making me jump and gasp. He reaches for me with one hand as he kisses me, and runs his index finger up and down my slit, sliding it easily over the moisture already dripping there. His lips reach my outer labia and he gives them a lingering kiss. Then he pulls back a little and says, "I want you to tell me when you feel like you're going to come," he says.

"Ok," I say, my voice small, feeling nervous again.

Owen seems to sense the sudden tension in my body, and he places another kiss on my labia. "Just relax," he says. "You're going to enjoy this." Another soft kiss. "Are you ready?"

I will some of the stiffness from my body and say, "Yes."

Owen looks up into my face for a moment from where he crouches, and then uses his fingers to spread the lips of my pussy wide. His head moves forward and then his tongue is flicking up and down my inner labia in mincing little strokes. I gasp and my hands find the blanket that is draped over the back of the couch, grasping at the fabric. Owen's tongue darts briefly inside my opening and then begins to work up and down my labia again, this time in long, smooth licks. My clit throbs, crying out for his attention, but he ignores it, focusing instead on the lips of my cunt, inner and outer, sucking them, caressing them with his tongue. I try to hold still, but my hips don't want to obey me, and I rock against Owen's mouth.

When his tongue finally gives one flick against my clitoris, I moan and my hips buck. He closes his lips over the swollen bud and sucks gently, then begins to run his tongue over it, back and forth in a slow and maddening rhythm. I've never felt anything like this before. I never imagined how exciting it would be to be tasted like this. I am moaning and crying out, my hands clenched into fists around the blanket. Owen moves his head and begins to attack my clit from a different angle, licking around and over it in concentric circles, slowly at first and then picking up speed. My hands abandon the blanket. I twine my fingers through his hair instead, crying out and raising my hips. The tension in my abdomen has reached an intensity that I know I can't maintain for long. "I'm going to come," I say, the words coming out in a broken gasp.

Owen's mouth freezes. I tremble, perched on the brink of orgasm. Half a minute passes in perfect stillness, and the need to come recedes. My body relaxes. Owen raises his head to look at me and says, "I'm going to make you come now, and I want to hear you scream when you do." Then he begins to lick over and around my clit in those concentric circles again, faster than before. The tension mounts again almost at once, and this time Owen doesn't stop.

Between one stroke of his tongue and another I start to come. All I can do is obey his command. As the first tremors of orgasm seize me I throw back my head and scream at the ceiling. An inner floodgate opens and I can no longer control my own body. The orgasm rips through me, the biggest one I can remember, a pleasure so intense that it is almost agony. My hips jerk up and down, and Owen wraps his arms around my waist, holding me against him so that he can continue to lap at my clit with his tongue. The spasms go on and on, dragging cry after cry from my parted lips. After an age, the orgasm begins to dissipate, but Owen doesn't stop what he's doing. He continues to lick me with rhythmic deliberation.

I moan and try to shove myself backwards, away from that maddening tongue, my clit suddenly feeling way too sensitive, almost painful, but Owen holds me in place. I push weakly at his head, trying to form the words to tell him to stop, that it's too much, but in another moment the agonized sensitivity melts once more into that coiling tension. I relax the pressure of my hands on Owen's head and he takes this as a cue to increase the pace of his attentions. Soon my hips are thrusting against him again, and I am groaning, tossing my head from side to side, and biting my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

He brings me to a second climax only minutes after the first. My screams echo once more off the living room walls, and this time when he doesn't stop eating my pussy, I make no effort to pull away from him, although my clit is now more sensitive than ever. I take deep breaths, trying to rise above the pleasure-pain, and then Owen switches to a different method, licking up and down instead of circling my clit. That undoes me again, and almost incredulous, I find myself being jolted into a third massive orgasm.

When my screams taper off and my arching body collapses back onto the sofa in a boneless heap, Owen finally takes his mouth away from my cunt. He rises from his crouch and sits down next to me, taking me into his arms and then pulling me onto his lap. He kisses me, tongue sliding into my mouth, and I can taste myself. He strokes my cheek. "Are those good tears or bad tears?" he asks, and I realize that I'm crying a little.