I continued to circle her nipples with my fingertips, not neglecting the rest of her breasts either. We broke our kiss, and her face was slightly flushed as she looked up to me. I pushed myself up and, abandoning her breasts for the moment, I stroked her hair, her face, her ears... Then I began the long, slow trek down again, past her neck and shoulders, and when my fingers found those soft, smooth, round curves once more, I felt how those lovely globes were full of desire now, and her nipples had swollen almost to the point of bursting, begging to be touched, to be squeezed, pinched, licked, sucked...
With some effort I got my mind back to the task at hand. This was to be a marathon, not a sprint. Still, I could not quite resist the call of those lovely nubs as they stood up so proudly before me. Slowly, ever so slowly, I began home in again on the tips of her breasts, my fingertips circling their target like an Artegan Dreadfish circles its prey. Smaller and smaller became the circles I traced across her soft skin, and my fingertips climbed the round curves, higher and higher... Until they finally made it to the top.
She shuddered when my fingers touched her nipples, which by now had slightly darkened and become puckered with her arousal. Ye gods, they were hard! I ran my thumbs over those pebbled tips and she shuddered again, her breath suddenly becoming ragged, and she let out a long, plaintive moan. Then I deliberately took those rock-hard tips between thumb and forefinger of both hands and squeezed them, once. Her moan became a cry, her shuddering a thrashing, and I knew it was time for me to back off, and quickly, too, if I didn't want her to lose control. I remembered the first time we had made love, on the Slowboat, and she'd had an orgasm just from having her nipples played with. I had a feeling we might be close to that happening again.
So I bent down, gently kissed both her breasts and gave each nipple a playful lick by way of saying goodbye to them for now. When I looked up I saw she had her eyes closed; her face was flushed and her hands were gripping the bedding. Apparently she was holding on to her self-control with some effort, which was something I could sympathize with, since my cock had risen to the occasion and was nodding its approval as I sat on my knees next to her.
Time to change tactics. I knew she was a little ticklish, and I would have to be careful not to send her into a giggling spasm and break the mood. So rather than caressing her skin with my fingertips, I began to gently scratch it with my nails, starting around the outline of her breasts and moving down across her chest and her stomach. I felt her muscles twitch under her skin in response, but not to the point where she would lose control. I reached the swell of her mons, but here my hands parted and my nails traced their scratchy lines across the outside of her hips and down across her legs; down and down until they reached the end of the road.
I moved to one side then, taking her foot in my hand and returning to gentle caresses. I stroked her toes, teased them, then slowly moving up across her instep, but avoiding the ticklish underside. Her ankle was next, and my fingertips traced intricate patterns across it. There used to be a time when a woman's ankles were considered to be one of the sexiest parts of her body, and looking at Anne it was easy to understand why, because that generally under-appreciated region of the female anatomy can be particularly graceful and provide distinct hints at the pleasures to be had from the rest of her, and the way Anne's ankles were shaped rivaled the best works of any of the great classic sculptors. The next time you make love to someone you might want to keep that in mind: there is great joy and pleasure to be had from each and every part of the body, and we generally don't spend time enough to enjoy most of it properly. Which is why I took my time admiring her ankle before moving up across the graceful curves of her calf. I stroked, teased and caressed her as I let my fingertips play across her skin, moving up the length of her leg ever so slowly.
When I reached her knee I carefully lifted her leg and gently shifted it outward before returning to caressing her skin. Things were getting even more interesting, now that my hands had finally crossed the border and began to explore the inner regions of her thigh. From there on I made sure that one of my hands stayed in contact with the inside of her thigh, and I felt her move under my hands in response to my caresses. Closer and closer my fingers traveled to that apex, to that wonderful spot between her thighs where she wanted to feel my touch most of all.
Tracing intricate patterns across that smooth, soft skin and paying meticulous attention to that sensitive area on the inside of her thigh, my fingers slowly crept higher and higher, and she parted her legs further to give me access. Her breathing had grown heavy and she stirred restlessly on the bed as her need continued to grow.
But instead of homing in on my target as I would have done eagerly at other times, my fingers took a detour when they reached her upper thigh. Ye gods, I was tempted, though! The lips of her pussy waited for me there, engorged with her arousal, and her pussy had flowered open and beckoned invitingly. The delicately pink flesh glistened with the juices of her arousal that were pooling there, clear and rich and thick, and her clit had come peeping out from under its hood, its little head looking engorged, taut and shiny.
But somehow I managed to resist all these temptations. Instead my caressing fingertips skirted the treasures that waited there at the apex of her thighs, and instead walked up and across her mons. She moaned softly in frustration, but her moan became a sigh as I began to massage the gentle slopes of her mons more firmly, moving the skin around and carefully shifting it up and down with the palms of my hands, thereby gently pulling on the skin that covered the stem of her clit and putting a subtle tension on the lips of her pussy.
Her soft moans slowly became more insistent, and she moved her thighs further apart in response to her need to be touched right there, right then. But once again I resisted the temptation and instead slowly moved down her other leg, stroking and caressing it as I moved my way down all the way to her foot, then slowly back up again as I had done on her other leg.
My fingers crept higher and higher as they caressed her inner thigh, until I abandoned the outside of her leg entirely and moved my other hand to the inside of her other leg. Gently stroking the soft skin on the inside of both her thighs, now damp with perspiration, my caressing hands began to home in on the hot, wet center between them, and she spread her thighs wide before me, as if to make it abundantly clear where she wanted me to go.
Not that I needed any encouragement or direction. I could feel the heat radiating from her core as I got closer, and the smell of her arousal was enough to make my cock twitch. The engorged lips of her pussy were no longer pink but had turned a deeper yet delicate shade of red, and they had flowered open even wider to reveal the opening between them. Her nectar had continued to flow and was now running out of her freely; a thick and clear rivulet that had dripped down to disappear into the cleft between her buttocks.
Which was exactly what I needed for what I had in mind.
I lightly caressed the hot, damp skin around the spread lips of her pussy until another thick, clear drop of her juices ran out of her. I caught it on my fingertip and, parting her lovely buns with the fingers of my other hand, gently spread it between them. A lot of her nectar had found its way there already, leaving her slippery and wet back there, and all I had to do was to move that silky-smooth nectar further inward, spreading it across her little puckered hole.
Leaning sideways, I could just reach the small wooden box on the table next to the bed. I pulled it closer and opened it. It was lined with a dark, velvet-like material and in it were two things: a thick, sable brush (or something close enough to sable) and a small capsule with a long, thin string attached to it. I smiled. Por didn't have any eyebrows to raise when I told him what I needed, and I had no idea if Gawrrans normally went for this sort of thing, but he had simply delivered with no questions asked. I'd have to thank him for that.
I took the capsule, lifting it by its string. I had to, because its surface was made from a material that was almost entirely frictionless and would easily have slipped through my fingers. Spreading her butt cheeks apart with my fingers, I put the capsule against the little pucker between them and pushed ever so gently. Her natural lubrication and the nearly frictionless surface made it slip right in.
I took the sable brush and dropped it on the bed next to me for the moment. I put my hands back on the insides of Anne's thighs and resumed my caresses there. Her breathing was deep and labored now, her face red and flushed, her eyes closed, and suddenly I felt the need to end this for her, to give her what she craved so much. But that would have to wait. I felt my cock twitch, and when I looked down I saw a thick drop of pre-cum dangle from its tip. Suddenly I felt close to exploding. But that would have to wait, too.
I gently stroked the insides of her thighs in small circles, slowly homing in on the treasure that waited there. Closer and closer my fingers crept, and her skin grew even more hot and damp under my touch, until they reached the outer lips of her pussy. She shuddered and moaned when she felt the contact. I ran my fingertips around the outlines of those slick, wet folds, engorged and hot with her blood as they were, and she shuddered again. I caressed them, stroked them, played with them, my fingers moving slowly; driving her crazy. Her moans became louder, more urgent, more pleading. At the top of her opening, where her lips met, the tip of her clit peeped out at me from underneath its hood, but I had never seen it like this. It was bigger than ever before; so dark it was almost purple, and the delicate, sensitive surface was pulled so taut with the pressure of her arousal that it looked like it might explode any moment. It called to me, begging me to touch it, lick it, suck it, do whatever it might take to release all that pent-up sexual energy, but I couldn't do that. Not yet, not yet...
I stroked, rubbed and lightly massaged her pussy lips for a few minutes, and her juices ran like a river, until I could no longer control myself. I simply had to taste them. So I bent down and carefully dipped my tongue into that rich, clear pool. I don't think I've ever tasted something so good: thick and sweet like nectar, smooth as velvet... I wanted more of this, much more, but I had to restrain myself.
Because I needed a distraction more than anything else at this point, I sat up and took the sable brush that was lying on the bed next to me. It had a thick, wide bundle of short hairs that were as soft as anything I'd ever felt. It also had a small button set in the handle. I pushed that button once, and a few seconds later she let out a soft "Hmmmmm...?" I smiled. Inside her, the little capsule had begun to swell up until it was about twice its original size. I pushed the button again, and this time she moaned. I could not hear anything, but I knew the capsule had begun to vibrate inside her.
Carefully, every so carefully, I touched the soft hairs of the brush to her close-to-bursting clit. This time it wasn't a moan that rewarded me, but a soft, deep "Ooooohhhhh..." and I knew I had to be very careful now. Keeping the touch of the brush as light as I could without losing contact entirely, I played the tips of those soft, soft hairs across the super-sensitive surface of that shiny, taut nub, and her soft cries became more urgent, more pleading, I touched the button on the handle of the brush once more, and the pitch of her voice rose slightly as the vibrations inside here became more intense.
Slowly something began to change for me as well, then, although I only realized that later while thinking back on the whole experience. Somehow, time began to blur for me as I became more and more caught up in her need, her frustration, her tantalizing pleasure that was just not enough, that so maddeningly stopped just short of giving her that blissful release she needed so much. I felt both her pleasure and her frustration, and the wonderful agony of being close, so close, but just not close enough. Her moans and cries became more plaintive, more begging, and I dimly realized that I felt the same way. I wanted to give her what she needed. I wanted to pinch those rock-hard nipples, standing up so proudly at the tops of her breasts. I wanted to lick and suck her clit, so filled to bursting with the pressure of her need, until she exploded in my mouth. I wanted to plunge the steel bar that was my weeping cock deep into her overflowing pussy and feel her cum around my pulsing shaft as I let go with her...
But somehow I managed to keep myself control. I kept her there, right at the edge, shaking with raw need. I had to back off quickly a few times to keep her from cumming, and once I thought I was too late and she'd let go, but somehow we just made it. I stroked the shiny tip of her taut, hard clit ever so softly with the sable brush, the soft, soft hairs barely touching her, but it was enough to drive her even more insane with want and need, and her clit swelled even more and darkened further until it was almost purple. Her cries became more and more desperate, and her hands tightly gripped the bedding while she did all she could to stop herself from giving herself the release that I denied her so cruelly. I marveled at her self-control. Had I been in her place, I don't think I'd have been able to stop myself like she did.
