Author's Note: To everyone who enjoyed my previous story, this is what I mean when I say that most of what I have planned is less vanilla. This one is a very different style than the previous one (and this one is also relatively tame compared to some of my other works in progress). As always, please check the tags or the spoiler description after the end of the story if you want to know what to expect.
Thanks, once again, to kenjisato for proofreading and editing.
My name is Miranda. I'm thirty-two, with brown hair and eyes, olive skin, and an athletic physique with medium-sized breasts. I've loved the feeling of orgasm ever since I discovered masturbation. It's only gotten better since meeting my husband, Corey. In the six years we've known each other, he has learned everything about my body and knows exactly where to touch to give me the most pleasure possible.
I can cum three, four, or even five times in a row. I think my record is fifteen, but who's counting, really? Here's the thing, though, whether it's three, four, or fifteen, my body eventually gives out and says 'no more', and all of my most erogenous spots become too sensitive to continue.
Not that it hurts, mind you; it's quite the opposite, actually. It feels good. Too good. Like my entire body is tingling and I'm going to pass out from the overload of pleasure. But I want that pleasure. It always feels like I'm just on the cusp of the most mind-blowing orgasm, if I can just overcome the feeling of needing to stop. That's where my dilemma began.
How do I force myself to keep stimulating when my body is sending all the signals that it's too much?
I've tried many things over the years. I bought my first vibrator when I was eighteen, and tried to force myself to keep holding it there, even after the overwhelming point. No good, I could never stop myself from pulling it away.
I once got desperate enough to try duct-taping it in place. The less said about that disaster, the better. Nope, never trying THAT again.
I've tried the rotating bristles of an electric toothbrush. I've tried numbing my clit with ice first. I've tried positions where I'm on top of whatever toy I'm trying to use so that it's harder to move it away. Though all of those things feel good, (especially the ice, which I didn't expect,) I always end up losing my resolve and pulling away once the sensations begin to overwhelm me.
Before Corey, I'd had a few other lovers. Over the years, I'd tried telling each of them to lick or rub my clit without stopping. Most had been too damned attentive for my own good, and noticed on their own when it was becoming too much for me. And even the one or two who had failed to do so, eventually elicited a "Wait, stop now," from me.
It was almost as if I was of two minds. Regular Miranda (aka. Horny Miranda) wanted to be completely overwhelmed by sensation, at least until the moment that very sensation was present. Then suddenly, Overstimulated Miranda would take over, doing whatever it took to deny Regular Miranda what she so desperately needed.
One experience I vividly recall was a year or two after Corey and I had begun occasionally experimenting with light bondage and domination. Nothing too extreme, to be sure, just a little bit of each of us being tied up and letting the other have their way for a while, just to spice things up.
On that particular occasion, Corey had me tied, face up, to the dining room table, one limb to each leg. He had already released his first load of cum inside me and had shifted his focus to my pleasure for a bit.
It seems to me that most guys are turned off by the idea of going down on a woman with cum dripping from her pussy, but Corey absolutely revels in cleaning me up right after filling me. He often tells me, "You take my cum in your mouth all the time, so why should I have a problem taking it in mine?" I've always loved that about him.
His fingers had been expertly rubbing and pinching my nipples exactly the way I liked as his mouth worked down below. He had licked up everything that he had previously pumped into me, making sure to get all of it by pressing his tongue as deep inside as he could. He had made my clit desperate for attention in the process. The mischievous smile he wore revealed that he knew exactly what I wanted, but wasn't done teasing me yet; his tongue continued to run up and down inside the valleys between the outer and inner labia on each side of my opening.
Finally, a desperate, involuntary whimper escaped my lips.
He stopped licking and looked up at me, wet around the lips, the playful expression still on his face.
"Hmm? Something you want?" he feigned ignorance.
The fingers on my nipples had reduced their activity to a single flick every second or two, which was driving me crazy, making me even more desperate than the continuous stimulation had.
"Yes! I want you... to rub me... and lick me... and not... stop... even when--"
The rest of my request was cut off as he returned his fingers to full speed and proceeded to alternately lick and suck my clit frantically.
It didn't take long before I felt the warm release spread through my body. My thighs vibrated as I gasped and writhed and strained against the soft ropes holding me in place, arching my back, pressing myself harder against the stimulation he was giving me.
Finally, I fell back, flat against the table, breathing heavily. "You know... that feeling... I get... after... I cum?" I panted. "Where it's... too much... and I... can't take... any more?"
"Yeah, sorry," he apologized, fully pulling away from me and withdrawing his hands.
"No... wait... come back," I gasped. "I'm not even at that point yet."
He looked bewildered. "Huh? Then why did you--"
"Because I
don't
want you to stop," I cut him off. "Even if-- ahhh yesss, that's... better-- don't stop... even... if I... ask you to."
He had resumed giving full stimulation to my three nubs, and I could feel another orgasm building again. As I finally completed my thought, he slowed his movements and looked up at me questioningly, making an inquisitive sound.
"I've wanted to... be overwhelmed by... pleasure... for a long time. Please... don't stop. Don't... ever stop... Don't... ever stop... Don't... ever stop... Don't... ever-- ohhhhh!"
I came, partly from his ministrations, partly from the thought of how good it would feel if he got me past that point, which, as I realized on the way down from my second orgasm, was right then.
It was unusual for it to happen after only two, but then, perhaps the brief break between them had accelerated my body's overwhelm response. Whatever the reason, my nipples and clit were filling my body with burning pleasure and begging for the stimulation to stop.
My repeated pants of 'Don't ever stop, don't ever stop' had morphed into pleas of, "Stop, stop, please stop," but he was still rubbing and licking, as I had asked.
"Please stop! It's too much!"
My nerves were ablaze with sensation. I was whimpering and writhing, pulling against the ropes for what was probably only about five seconds but felt much longer. Once again, Overstimulated Miranda took over completely.
"ANTIQUING!" I cried, using the safe word we had previously established, a reference to an episode of a certain animated comedy series we had both enjoyed in our youth.
Corey immediately stopped, and I immediately regretted it. I had never actually needed to call safety before. I was instantly filled with frustration and longing. I briefly considered asking Corey to resume before looking at him.
He seemed relieved that I had called it off. I don't know what he had been thinking or feeling as he had tried to overstimulate me, but I have no doubt that he would have been aware of how physically uncomfortable my body was. He was probably unsure if I had truly wanted that discomfort.
It was aggravating to be left so unsatisfied, but I would have to discuss it with him more fully before trying again. He'd need to understand my feelings on the matter, and how much I truly, deeply, wanted it.
That occasion concluded the way similar experiences usually did, with him fucking me one more time before untying me. It was far from unpleasant, (not that having such a beautiful cock from a man I love so much inside me could EVER be unpleasant,) but it also wasn't exactly what I had been craving right then.
I had, once again, failed. I was angry at myself for chickening out, and also felt some shame whose source I couldn't quite identify. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I had involved him, asked him to give me what Regular Miranda wanted, only to lose the determination to follow through when I became Overstimulated Miranda. Whatever it was, I was getting more and more disappointed with myself.
We discussed it afterward and I explained to him everything that I've just told you. We tried it again a few times after that, but it always ended the same way, with me calling the safe word.
Finally, I brought up the idea of doing this one thing, and
only
this one thing, without a safe word. That as long as it was pleasure, and not pain, that he would be giving me, to ignore the safe word.
He was, to say the least, uncomfortable with the idea. Said that without a safe word, he would have no way to know that I really wanted to continue in that moment, no way to know that he wouldn't be causing me harm.
I tried begging. I tried pleading. I tried explaining to him about the two Mirandas. I tried clarifying that I, as me, wanted it, and that he would not and could not harm me, even if, in the moment, my body overwhelmed my heart and mind into wanting to stop.
It was no use. He flat out refused. Dammit, sometimes I wish he weren't so damned considerate. That conversation ended with me telling him that if he ever found himself reconsidering at an opportune moment, that he had blanket permission to take up the offer. He thanked me, but said that he didn't think that would ever happen.
