I have really long orgasms. You'd love it, actually, you should try me, but for me these mega orgasms are a bit of a curse. I am so noisy.
My name is Rosy and I live with my mother and my grandmother in a quiet village in Norfolk. I was home educated, and I didn't have any male friends, not really, so by the time I was eighteen I was feeling pretty hot. Sometimes at night I would lie in bed, exploring the soft warm areas between my legs. I had learned how to please it, you can find it all online these days. I used to dip my fingers into my warm wet pussy, playing and teasing, rubbing and coaxing. I used to play with my juicy clit for hours, until I would have sudden, shuddering climaxes that leaked sweet fluids from me, and left my insides clenching and gripping. I'd shudder and moan into my pillow for ten minutes or so, and I would sleep better afterwards. It was gorgeous, and I was happy with it. And as I played I imagined you and your cock, ready and wanting, thinking of me, coming in through my bedroom window to fuck me.
But that was in secret, in the privacy of my bedroom. In reality I was a good girl. I baked. I wore neat white bras with padding to hide the big knobbly teats as otherwise you could see them through my clothes.
My teats were juicy and sensitive and I loved to tweak them. Sometimes I wore clamps on them, in secret, but I had to stop doing that when I felt myself cumming in Waitrose and had to hide behind the courgette stand until I'd finished. Imagine. I was moaning and shuddering for ten minutes and a spotty boy appeared and said, 'are you all right madam,' and I said between gritted teeth, 'it's okay, it's just hay fever,' and he said, 'jeez I wish I had hay fever,' but he was too shy to do any more. He just watched and blushed. And I blushed too. Despite my wild fantasies I was shy.
After that I was careful with the clamps. I couldn't be seen moaning in supermarkets, people would talk. My mother would have me at the doctors and the last time I went there the nurse fingered me whilst he examined my tits for lumps. She said it was an examination but I saw the expression on her face. Besides, I sing in the church choir. You can't go cumming in the choir, someone might notice. You'd hit the high notes but they'd go on and on.
A couple of times a week it was my job to clean the church. I would go in there and put out altar cloths and polish the brasses. I would change the candles and check the incense, and dust away the bat droppings. Sometimes I would get onto my knees and scrub the altar tiles. It was hot work. Sometimes I let my lovely tits swing free as I did it. I liked the cool air playing on them. I used to wonder if the bats were fucking up in the rafters. I hoped so. God made living things to fuck, that was my theory. Orgasms are for a reason, so mine couldn't be bad. I bet angels have orgasms. What's the point of heaven otherwise?
The vicar would have said that was blasphemy, but I wished he'd preach about sex. We all think about it. I bet half the people in church were thinking about it on a Sunday when he went on about Jesus saving us. So I kept my thoughts to myself, and my clit regularly got hotter than a Sunday in July. I started wearing tight knickers just to hold it firm as I walked along.
Still, I was outwardly a good girl. I studied, I cleaned, I played the organ (honestly. The real organ. In church. Cue the vicar's organ jokes which, as it happens, are pretty appropriate. Now when people giggle and say I play the vicar's organ I can giggle and agree and it's doubly true.)
Life would probably have carried on like that if I hadn't discovered what happened when I pulled on my teats just as I came.
I had learned to control myself during my long wild orgasms, as we lived in a small house and there was a risk my mother would hear... but one night well, something came over me. As I played and teased my pussy, tweaking and tasting and fingering myself, and the great and beautiful orgasm started to build, some instinct I hadn't known I'd got made me seize my two teats, and pull on them hard, and suddenly I was cumming as I never had before, Christ I was coming. My cum was surging through me like an earthquake. The spasm, the wave of sensation, the contracting, the spasming, the tight gripping screaming pleasure... it went on and on as I writhed and fought and clenched and throbbed...my tits, my cunt my whole body was on fire in great waves of glorious cum. I thought my clit would explode.
It was incredible. I was cumming like a whore. I moaned and shuddered and squeezed and contracted as I rode it like a slave, crazy with lust, and as I spasmed I had to bite my pillow to stifle my moans. I orgasmed for about twenty minutes. It felt like hours, and even afterwards I was crying and shuddering and aching and spasming. I knew after that I had to find somewhere more private to pleasure myself. There was no doubt about it. Since I had discovered teat-pulling my orgasms were just inconveniently long. I needed somewhere private to let rip. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, once more than half an hour...
There was one place where I could go to be private. I went in to clean the church three times a week. Father Hughes paid me to do it, and cleaning the church was relaxing. Polishing, laundering, scrubbing, daydreaming, looking at the lovely long fat candles. There was never anyone there. Not ever Trevor, the ghastly curate, was there in the evening. I hated Trevor, he was fat, about forty, with a little moustache and a tattoo that said Mum. He had a pot belly and pale, greasy skin and he liked to call me sweetheart. Once he had told me I had beautiful tits. I had told him to piss off. Once I think I heard him wanking in the vestry.
Trevor wasn't there in the evening though, he went home to his mum in the evening, so I had the place to myself. And I used it beautifully. I used it to cum and I told myself I was cumming for the Lord. The problem with masturbating in church was that the only place to lie was on the altar, but that was okay. The Lord would like that. I was an offering. I set it up beautifully, candles and incense and one of the kneeling cushions as a pillow. I stripped naked. I wanted to do this properly. Then, feeling the cool air play over my horny body, the gentle draft on my hot pert tits, I lay on the altar, and spread my legs. Then I placed my two bulldog clips gently onto my fat juicy teats, and as I fucked myself I promised the Lord over and over that I would be a good girl.
'Ahhhhh... oh yeah...'
The first day was glorious. I was lying on the alter, naked and sweet. The rush of pleasure even knowing what was coming was huge. My pussy was warming like a radiator. I could feel sweet juices starting to trickle. And as I started to play with my little nub, my swollen fat clit that loved to please me, I started to moan.
The church was as quiet as a mouse, with just a faint rustle from the bats, almost certainly fucking in the ceiling. As I stroked and played with the hood of my clit, rubbing in a beautiful circular motion as I felt my knob growing and swelling, felt the blood rushing to my vulva. 'Oh God yes, oh let me cum Lord...,' I gasped as I teased and played, tickling my wet labia with a long slim church candle as I roughed and grunted, harder and faster, 'oh yeah.. please Lord send a cock to fuck me... let me be a slave to your glory and I will service any man who wants me...'
As I played I imagined a cock inside me, a mouth on my tits, feasting on the teats, fingers probing. I imagined being fucked and used, to suck on warm balls and caress a wet shaft. I dreamed of offering myself online. And I played. My cum was building beautifully through the fantasy, rubbing frantically, urgently moaning and shuddering, I was gasping 'oh God... Ah... ah... ah...' and then as I started to climax I tugged hard on the nipple clamps...'oh Lord send many cocks to fuck me, oh Lord let me be a slave and I will obey...please force me, take me, make me...'
The climax surged through me and my roar filled the church, echoing from the rafters as the spasms gripped my pussy and the heat from my slit grew into a roaring furnace. I shuddered and moaned and started to cum in great waves, moaning and writhing and arching my back as the gorgeous spasms took me and I cried, 'oh God yee...aa...hhh...'
My juices were pouring, my cunt was gripping, my clit was like an apricot, throbbing and glowing, as my mind filled with the hope of a cock, a fat warm cock slippery with precum, wet with my saliva...
I teased my clit like a queen, and my orgasm went on and on and on. I was out of control but there was nobody to hear. And I came and came and came as I tugged on those hot sore teats of mine and fucked myself to fucking heaven.
After that it became a regular thing. The church had never been cleaner. I went every night to clean it and, every night, on the altar, I pleasured and fucked myself, begging aloud for cock, for shame, for humiliation, to be forced, to be used, to be filled, to be taken, to be spanked. Soon I had started to work myself with the slimmer church candles, plunging them into my pussy and my ass as I pleasured myself. My hymen was tight but I could manage a slim one and I loved it. One night I took my electric toothbrush and my roars and screams as I climaxed and climaxed made the bats fly off their roosts.
I was lost in lust. And every night the urge grew stronger in me. I imagined being pushed to the floor by a stranger, sucking my teats as he fingered me, I imagined his cock plunging into me in a great masterful riding fuck as I struggled and begged for mercy, I imagined him slapping my ass and ordering me onto all fours as his cock drove lubed and hot into my virgin pucker and ass-fucked me like a whore... I imagined myself trussed and naked on the altar, blindfolded and helpless as men filled with lust took turns in me with their fast lusting cocks... I imagined them you cumming on me, in me, swallowing it, pleasuring them... Enslaved. I loved it. I could imagine all the fucking I liked in the privacy of the church, make all the noisy I liked. My orgasm lasted longer and longer. I was up to about forty minutes of writhing spasms as I begged for cock to dominate and use me... when I got careless.
I hadn't realised that the vicar was having work done on the church, hadn't realised that the man hadn't gone yet. I was just laying out my pleasure altar when he walked out of the vestry, making my heart jump into my mouth.
'What's your name?' He didn't sound as if he was going to fuck me right now. He was making small talk.
"I'm Rosy. I clean for the vicar.'
'I see, could you come in the vestry Rosy? I had a spill.'
He hadn't commented on my laying out the altar. Why would he? It was just an altar. I followed him into the vestry. It looked fine.
'Where's the spill?'
'I haven't spilled it yet...' and he locked the door behind me. I stared. He smiled and pocketed the key.
The vestry was a small stone room. It had one window, high up, and one wooden door, thick and soundproof. It was cool in there, on my skin. I was wearing a little cotton dress and a G-string. I felt as if I was naked. My clitoris was already primed like a giant undercarriage. I had been ready for my session. But now I felt out of my depth. I stared at him. Imagines of fat cocks ran through my head. Was he you?
'Who are you?'
'George. Hoping you'll clean up my spill.'
'I don't understand...what spill?'
