Restless Nights 1

I woke up thirsty and went downstairs to the kitchen. I grabbed a glass, filled it with water and stood nearby, for a while, leaning over the kitchen counter, flipping through the pages of a magazine that someone had left there, absentmindedly.

It was a women's clothing catalog with some nice photos of young models in beautiful outfits. Without even realizing it, my fingers automatically sought the lingerie chapter, my all-time favorite. Decades of training revealing its usefulness, allowing me to find the lingerie pages, at a glance.

There they were, in their entire splendor, a bunch of gorgeous women of all types, wearing every sort of feminine intimates, satisfying the most demanding and refined tastes: sets of bras and panties, girdles and garter belts, corsets and bodies, maternity and nightwear lingerie. I particularly loved the plus size lingerie section.

As I turned the pages, a predictable erection began to shape inside my briefs, wound up by the vision of these delightful creatures.

This intense feeling was increasing and I decided to stay for a while, leaning over the counter, slowly glancing at the images and enjoying the growing stiffness of my cock, rising as I turned the pages.

At some point my penis began to throb and the glans rubbing against the soft fabric of my underwear made it impossible to hold myself without sticking a hand inside my pants. I grabbed my dick with my left hand and started to stroke it gently, keeping a steady pace, forward and backward, up and down.

The thrill wouldn't let me hear Susan coming down the stairs to get something in the kitchen. When I realized that she had just entered it was already too late to cover up what I was doing and I guess she figured out, clearly, that I was masturbating to something she couldn't identify yet.

After some initial awkwardness, for both parties, she pulled herself together, pretending not to have noticed anything odd, and asked me what I was doing there by myself, at that time of night.

I barely managed to hum and haw that I came for a glass of water and got distracted by that magazine, getting sleepless after a while.

- Is it some interesting article you are reading, in that magazine?

- Yes, I guess so, I replied in an obviously unconvincing manner, while trying desperately to hide the true nature of the publication content, feeling completely flustered as I turned the pages back and forward.

As time went on, Susan became more comfortable and gradually recovered from the initial shock, beginning to get control over the situation and feeling totally at ease with it. Somehow her grip on the situation turned out to have an easing effect on the strain, forcing me to regain awareness of the boner that kept shaping under my pants.

For the time being Susan had sat on a couch across the kitchen and could only see me from the waist up, since I was still standing behind the counter, facing her. This sudden distension nudged my daring and I resumed my wank, fondling my penis under the pants, in a very slow, almost imperceptible motion.

Suddenly, my inspiration has been shifted to the goddess next to me, in the flesh, replacing the glamorous models in the magazine, with obvious benefit. The sight of this fantastic brunette, barely dressed, just a few feet away, was in fact a hard challenge to bear.

I still tried to resume the browsing of the images on the magazine but her presence there meant an alternative so much more attractive, that I couldn't - nor wanted to - stay away from.

Just a few moments later, I was taking a long and deliberate look at her legs, skillfully crossed to the extent that we are allowed to see, and fantasized about the warm and cozy haven of my lust, right between them, at the very top. Then I ran my eyes through her body toward the soft bulge of her breasts, staring at the suggestion of the stiff nipples, gently protruding underneath the translucent fabric of the lace negligee, which revealed the softness of her milky skin through a slight opening, casually tied up with a silk bow.

Oh God, how I've yearned to be near her, unhook her bra and feel her breasts shudder under the touch of my hands, arouse her with my skilled fingers and taste the precious juices liberated by her pussy, take her to orgasm by the single action of my industrious tongue.

At this point I was so utterly adrift in my daydreams that controlling my action and cover it up was no longer an option. My cock seemed to have gained its own resolution, taking the place of my oblivious wits, and was on the verge of bursting at any moment. I sensed the blazing orgasm in my balls and had this feeling of a looming blast, a deluge of sperm with potential to flood the place, beyond any control endeavor. In the meantime Susan, fully aware of the outcome of her teasing attitude, was peacefully enjoying my restlessness.

Although she couldn't see me fondling my cock, the action going on behind the kitchen counter became increasingly obvious, touching the boundaries of shame. And, the more thrilled I felt, the less I bothered she might notice. In fact, I was secretly hoping she would realize it, cutting short my ending disclosure, which seemed inevitable, at this point.

Amazingly, I managed to deal with my edging condition, extending that stop-and-go game over several rounds. I was in bliss, walking the path between the near climax and the starting point, resuming it over and over again. The procedure made it possible to hold my impending orgasm for a while, until I was no longer able to avoid it.

She kept on playing her part, as if she was completely unaware of the epic masturbation going on, right beside her, that was about to become wild, at any moment, with a more-than-likely outcome performed right there, in total shamelessness, before her very eyes.

For the time being, the small talk went on, mostly about the magazine, which was providing outstanding pretext to her subtle innuendo. She speculated about a man's possible interest on women's clothing and on the scant reading that could be found in a clothing catalog.

Then, after having identified the publication, she lectured widely about the exaggerated dimension of the women's lingerie section, suggesting a fetishist motivation to expand the number of customers, beyond the natural target audience.

I desperately looked for evasive answers, trying to change the subject, but she insisted on the topic, stating that male readers could only be motivated by two reasons: either they had a perversion or were getting their PhD's in panties and bras.

The subject had this terrible effect on my reason and she was realizing it. Shortly after, she was elaborating on the thesis that these publications were innocent masks to meet the urges of unsuspected masturbators, hiding their perversion behind socially acceptable pornography that meets their darkest compulsions.

Susan was perfectly aware that she was driving me crazy by insisting on the topic ad nauseam and, somehow, was monitoring my desperate need to flaunt and let it all happen in front of her. She was assuming the role of the hunter who nudges his prey to the extent that it would rather be sacrificed than stay hidden.

After some time upholding this harassing game, she had the intuition I was topping the point of no return. Showing a perfect timing, the second before it happened, she loosened the bow tie of her negligee and fully exposed her magnificent breasts, spreading her legs a bit, just enough to uncover a little more of her inner thighs and disclose a hint of her crotch, sheltered under a pair of white cotton panties.

Then, she let me know, saying it in a warm and sensual tone:

- I'm aware that you're obsessed with these beauties, she said holding both breasts in her hands. I'm sure they are everything you need to feed your perverted fantasies, am I right? I bet you're thinking about them every time you masturbate, just as you're doing in this very moment. I want you to know that it's nothing new to me and that I feel flattered. And although you cannot turn me on, I find quite stimulating knowing that I own your mind when you jerk-off for me. God, it's so hot knowing that you're addicted to me! If I'm wrong, I'll leave at once and you can go back to whatever you were doing before, jacking off to these sad images of fake women printed on paper. But if not, then you must be having the time of your life, longing to perform your extreme masturbation for me, while I'm in here with you, in the flesh. So, I'm giving you a break: go for it! Rub one out for me, jerk boy, if you have the guts.

The yearning was way beyond my grip. I was only capable of mumble a clumsy "yes", and barely had the time to get out from behind the counter, lower my pants and carry out in the open the private wank I've started way before. My erect penis was now in plain sight. The glistening glans had turned purple and felt sore because of the intense rub, throbbing inside my fist, as if it was begging that I let it burst. My hand was completely soaked in pre cum, which had already drenched my underwear.

It barely took a few seconds before I ejaculated, gushing four or five spurts of cum and spilling it all over the floor, making a mess. My cock was swollen and aching, still throbbing and with a thick drop of semen hanging from the glans. Susan got up and casually ran his finger underneath my penis, collecting the droplet of sperm. Then, rising her eyes from my cock, she approached her finger out of my mouth and gave me a nod implying that she wanted me to suck it off.

Then, she turned to me and whispered in my ear, in a mockery tone:

- It was nice... but just this once. I don't want you to get used to this. Now it's time for you to return to your devoted 'memory masturbation', ok? I'll keep wandering about and making sure that you get all the stuff your daydreams are made of. I'm well aware that my being there is more than enough to provide it. And maybe - just maybe! - I may "lose" my bra or my panties out there, somewhere... if you behave.