Relieving Some Stress

I sigh in frustration at no one while closing my laptop -- after an especially grueling work day, writer's block has won out, and I declare defeat on my final task. I stand, shake my long hair free of its bun, and stretch to rid myself of my aggravation, becoming aware of my body once more - as well as the tension I'm carrying - after hours of being locked away with my work. To further soothe myself, I take several deep breaths, and allow my mind to intentionally stray...

Until my focus is pulled entirely by the sound of your footsteps above me, moving from one side of the bedroom to the other, followed by the almost imperceptible creak of springs as you make yourself comfortable in bed. I follow the sound of you walking with my eyes as I paint a quick mental picture of you retrieving your laptop then laying down with it, clad only in sweatpants -- one of my favorite looks on a man.

I smirk to myself as I imagine a variety of increasingly fun ways to pull your focus away from that screen and directly onto me. What a perfect way to destress -- by getting completely lost in you. I make my way upstairs and find you exactly as I imagined. Well, almost exactly... I must admit, you look even better in person than you did in my mind. Nothing compares to the real thing.

As it turns out, I don't have to do anything to get your attention -- you sense my presence as I lean in the doorway, and look up immediately. You take me in top to bottom... the tumbles of soft, wavy brown hair... the way I delicately smile at you, my green eyes bright with naughty ideas... All traces of my earlier tension, gone, as I give in to the freedom and joy I experience when we get to playing. You feel your cock stirring as you take in the rest of my short, curvy frame and the off-shoulder navy sweatshirt and matching shorts I'm wearing, which show just enough of my supple skin to get your mind going... especially my too-loose shorts, which hang enticingly off my hips and reveal to you the faintest peek of black lace. Before you know it, you're imagining your hands and mouth exploring and teasing me once more.

You place your laptop on the nightstand as I walk over, then watch as I climb on at the foot of the bed. I crawl my way toward you, then straddle your outstretched legs as I take your face in my hands and guide your lips to my own. Before I kiss you, I gently bite your bottom lip and hum with delight -- my cheek and boldness cause you to groan in the most delicious way while your hands reach to grope my ass.

You guide me into your bulge as I begin to kiss you in earnest, which I take as an invitation to grind at will -- I sigh into your open mouth the first time my clit makes direct contact, save the fabric, with your stiffening dick. With the break in our kiss, I pull back slightly to look you in the eyes as I tell you, in an especially breathy voice, that I want badly for you to cum. "How?" you ask. I simply reply: "I want to watch."

At that, I move off of your lap, then use one hand to guide you forward, an unspoken request for you to move up so that I can occupy the space behind you. It's not what you expected -- but the idea of being watched so close-up entices you all the same. You shift, then wait as I sit and kneel with my back against the headboard. I encourage you to then fully lay back into me, and I take a moment to delight in the warmth and weight of your body resting so entirely against mine.

I feel along your arms and look over your shoulder, both of our sets of eyes glued downward as you shift your sweatpants lower. Then, you pull that wonderful cock out into the open and begin to stroke yourself slowly -- I gently admonish you with a soft "no," reaching to put my hand on yours to still your motions. "Not yet -- but absolutely leave that rock-hard dick out for me."

You feel that much more on display as your length throbs while we watch, your hands tensed and placed palms-down on your thighs, as if you're attempting to somehow glue them in place so you can meet my specifications. "I'm going to tell you exactly what to do every step of the way -- how fast to go, how hard to grip yourself, every last detail. And right now ... I want you to simply swim in how badly you're craving any sort of contact at all."

"Well," I add, "I can at least provide a little of that for you..."

Hope blooms inside as you imagine me reaching around to stroke as you watch. But instead, you feel my lips and tongue going to work along your neck, as my hands move from your arms to your chest, my fingertips feather-light against you. Finding every inch of bare skin that I can with my teasing... as though I'm trying to memorize the most sensitive parts of your body. (I am.)

Beyond studying you though, I have another goal: To create an experience for you that renders you fully awash in sensation. For you to be so submerged in this that you lose all awareness of life outside of this room - my soft but firm directions and teasing touches intended, in part, to serve as your only tether to anything even just outside of your own pleasure.

And in order to get you there ... I'm going to need to drag this out a little.

I tell you to get your phone, and to open up the timer in your Clock app. I put 1 minute on the clock, and instruct you to simply... sit still, as I do the same. Neither of us moves -- we simply stare together at your aching cock as it begins to gently pulse and drip with extreme need for stimulation. "I can almost feel how badly you want to stroke yourself," I whisper in your ear, before gently licking the bottom of your lobe, just once. Then, we go back to our wonderfully tense silence. Not even my filthy words to urge your arousal on, or distract you from the ache - nothing but undiluted, uninterrupted anticipation.

Your phone sings at last -- we both exhale a little, but wisely, you continue to wait for my instructions. I tell you to, with your non-dominant hand, begin to very gently, very slowly stroke yourself. As you do, I place the softest kisses on your shoulder. My hands are just barely perceptible to you as I feel from end to end of your arms. The lightness of both of our touches sends a shiver of delight down your spine, but ultimately... it's unsatisfactory, a wisp of what you actually need. Which is, of course, the point.

I set another alarm -- we do this for 2 minutes. By the end, you're struggling to keep your hips from jerking forward and seeking out any increase in pressure. "You can switch hands, but that's it -- keep everything nice, and light..." I almost sing into your ear. Another 2 minutes go on the clock. You fill the time with the sound of your soft gasping -- my breathing grows slightly more ragged in tandem.

For both our sakes, I decide to crank things up a notch. "A little harder now, a little faster..." I continue staring down, using my hand to help yours find the intensity and rhythm I want. What you end up with is moderately better -- you can truly feel your fingers wrapped around your cock, and the mid-tempo pacing offers some relief, while still giving you a chance to fully feel every inch. But now, you're acutely aware of how hard you already are, which only fuels your fire. Yet again, 2 minutes go on the clock.

Once the timer is set, I intensify my own actions to match you. You now feel my soft lips fully press against your skin, along with the occasional hint of the tip of my tongue. My hands are fully against you, and have moved from your arms to your sides. Once or twice, I'll offer a softer touch just above the base of your dick... before moving up and away once more. Whenever you see and feel my hand grazing so close to where you want it, you writhe a little involuntarily.

... admittedly, it takes me a moment to shut the timer off the next time the phone sings, because I'm growing distracted by how hot and wet I'm becoming.

But as eager as I am to move things forward once more - and as much as I can feel desire absolutely radiating from you - I recall my earlier promise to myself: That I would make a meal out of making you cum after my stressful day. So I still us both by gripping your shoulders, before whispering, "You need to learn how to control those hips better. Let's stay here for a little while longer..." I reach down and put 4 minutes on the timer. "That should do it."

I grip some of your hair while, in a lightly mocking tone, I add: "Now, be more careful this time, will you?" You quickly entertain the notion of how hard you're going to edge me later for that snide little comment, imagining growling at me while face to face about how, exactly, I earned my torture while I weep for the mercy of release, or even just a break. Then, I start the clock again.

Soon, any thoughts of delicious revenge are ousted by the increasingly all-consuming nature of your need. What had once felt like a gift of added stimulation now feels torturously inadequate -- once more, you're in the position of straining desperately for more. More pressure, more speed, just ... more. But I make you ride out every last second of those 4 minutes. And this time, almost fearful of the notion that I'd drag this out longer, still -- you miraculously maintain control. (Equally as miraculously, so do I, even though I'm also approaching total desperation for your orgasm.)

When the timer goes off, you actually sigh in relief. I chuckle, and for a second, your optimism is pierced. But then, I pull you closer still. "Put your phone away," I urge you. "We don't need it anymore." Your mind spins at what I could possibly mean...

"Jerk yourself hard. Fast. Now." You don't need any further urging -- you begin to work your length at a driving pace. You moan louder than you intend to at giving your body what it craves at last. Until, that is -- "stop." You groan aloud; I silence all further protests with an especially pointed second of silence.

"Start again. Now." Once more, you dive in. Borderline punishing pumps and pulls that have you hurtling toward release. "Stop." You pull your hand away fully, knowing you'd be unable to comply if you kept it anywhere near your bulging cock. I wait a few moments. Then... "Start again. Now."

You begin to wonder how long I plan to drag this out, how many times I'll have you start and stop, how long I'm going to force you to teeter on the brink. Your increasingly prevailing fear is that this will result in a ruined orgasm -- and in fact, as time goes on, and as I make you start and stop so many times you lose count, you're fairly certain it will. You're just so close, and each edge puts you that much closer. You cannot imagine all of this build-up leading to such an unsatisfying end.

Though, you confess to yourself, part of you is turned on further still by the notion... -- and as it turns out, it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. You moan the word "please," just once -- it's instantly my undoing. Any ideas I'd had around making you beg fly out the window. "Cum for me, right now," I almost spit at you, my words pointed with extreme arousal... wanting desperately to see you experience that level of bliss - and wanting to be the one who laps it up off of you while you watch. "And pulse all of that hot load on your stomach, so you can watch me lick it up afterwards."

That mental image seals your fate. You work yourself at a manic pace as the orgasm builds within you. I mewl and beg repeatedly in your ear for your cum, as my hands confidently roam along your exposed torso, those added elements driving you toward the finish line even faster... And then, an especially well-placed glide of my tongue along your neck fully tips you over the edge, and you let go into the moment. Your breath is truly taken away as your hips raise up and away, driven instinctually forward as cum begins gushing forth. Then, the crashing waves of satisfaction strike you head to toe, and you lean back into me as you ride them out. You swear you see stars at one point amid the throes.

I hold you close the whole time, my hands rubbing in firm, slow circles on your arms once more, as I start to ease my voice back to its usual, slightly low purr - an attempt to soothe your raw nerves, gradually urging you toward the calm that follows such a perfect storm.

As the last drops land on your skin, and your mind returns to earth, you shift so that I can move from behind you. I grin, big and wide, up at you as I crawl on my hands and knees to clean you up. "Make sure you get it all," you tell me. "Because you're going to need your strength."

I offer a small gasp of excitement over what could possibly be in store, before leaning forward to drink you in - quite literally. Being sure of course to keep my gaze locked into yours the entire time... so you can watch my eyes light up at the taste of you.