It had been a hell of a week, stress seemed to be building from every direction, she struggled to eat and sleep eluded her night after night. She was more tired than she could verbalise and her brain felt as though it had gone to mush. Her only release was sexual and that was a solitary experience. Her man was far away on business and she found that moment by moment her desire to be fucked increased. Their only real communication was by electronic communication in which both their frustrations and desires were expressed, which only seemed to inflame the depths of her desire.
Time and time again she took herself, her hand roaming down the sinew of her neck, over the smoothness of her chest, feeling each rib beneath her fingers as she searched for the first point of pleasure. In a matter of moments she found the fullness of her own breast and the rosebud centred upon it. How she longed for it to be his fingers squeezing her nipple so tightly, his mouth to close upon it, to lick and suck and chew.
The thought would on each occasion directly connect to the mound between her legs and the familiar tension would begin to build. She would writhe and tense her groinal muscles, trying to resist, or stimulate, she wasn't quite sure which, but the outcome was always the same. Moistness would seep from her love tunnel, her pussy would pulsate as she envisaged his hand slipping easily past the waistband of her jeans, seeking out the bareness of her mons, her clit would swell and she would yearn for the sense of completeness that only he could ever provide.
When she could bear it no longer hew own fingers would take the place of his, and she would seek out the slit he had slipped between so many times. Halting, she would simply cup the warm smooth lips of her pussy for just a moment, until her hips involuntarily would rise increasing the pressure.
On and on her imagination would run, his hand, his fingers, his mouth, the bulging of his cock in his pants beside her. The thought of releasing it and grasping it in her hands, sliding her tiny fingers up and down the huge shaft, taking the purple crown to her lips and deep into her throat. Deliberately disengaging her gag so that she take every inch of him in the warm cavern of her mouth. Spontaneously her legs would part and her fingers would slip easily in the moisture between her lips. Her hand now working autonomously, fingers sliding into the soft wet entrance of her cunt. She could almost hear him breathing, urging her on. "Fuck yourself for me Hun, go on, don't stop".
Images overtook her as she imagined his rigid cock in his hands, him expertly stroking his stiff hard pole of manhood. First the softest of strokes and then watching as his grasp would close more tightly. She could see him beginning to pump his cock, still urging her to take herself for him. She loved him to wank in front of her, to talk dirty to her as he felt the sap beginning to build in his balls.
She responded in the same way as she had before, by probing her fingers deeper into her own cunt, 3 fingers, then four, reaching as far as she could, penetrating to the knuckles of her fist. The fingers of her opposing hand now working on her swollen nub, wanting his mouth to close upon it, to receive the exquisite tongue lashing that she craved. Harder and faster she pumped with one hand and rubbed with the other, writhing and moaning out loud as she did. Images flashing past her eyes intensified every sensation until she could feel the heat building in her pussy. "Yes, yes, oh God yes" she would call as she began to cum, her juices surging from her as she felt her muscles trying to force her fingers out. She pictured him cumming, heard him shouting as his own eruption began surging from his balls like never before. She loved to hear him shout and moan as he came, it was such a turn on, enhancing her own orgasms. They cum together in her mind -- him thousands of miles away.
As the sensations begin to settle, she begins to feel the benefit of the release, but simultaneously the frustration of not being fucked builds. Each time the same.
This morning was no different, the same scenario replayed. Her stress levels high and her frustration in rising in parallel. She tried to work, to focus, to distract herself, but her head is fuzzy, so tired she can barely think.
Her appointment with the beauty therapist is upon her before she knows it. She dashes out the door and drives to the young womans home, thoughts of him filling her head. A lovely home she had been to before for treatment, a relaxed and calming environment, a place where just for a while she was the important one and the world would simply go away.
She arrived and was greeted enthusiastically by Elena, the therapist. As she enters, the door is closed and locked behind her, the treatment table is set up in the cosy lounge, candles are burning around her and soft music plays gently in the background. She chatted for a while and expressed how tired and tense she was to the friendly face of the young girl before her. "OK think you need some pampering" Elena said in a gentle tone. "Lets do your waxing and then we can do a facial. Would you like the deluxe?, it includes a Indian head, neck and body massage." She needed to unwind and perhaps this would help, so she agreed, "Yes lets go for that."