Pleasuring Her

He answered her question. "I think that you're realising that the muscular outline of these thighs is kindda nice."

She gave a little giggle. His thighs were nothing of the sort. He was funny, she thought, in his self deprecating way. It showed humour and confidence. And why shouldn't he be confident? With what he could do, how many women would voluntarily ask for the type of pleasure he could give. Her mind shuddered at the memory. Her lower half was subdued and resting for now but she could detect the eagerness -- and also fear -- for more, lurking beneath the surface. She realised with a sinking but rapidly-beating heart that despite her resolve and intellectual assessment of the situation, she was probably going to spend an amazing night screaming incoherently with this man between her legs. She couldn't see any way out and as the temptation and memories of her previous arousal set in, she wasn't even certain she wanted a way out.

She wanted some kind of control though and ventured, "What are you going to do to me next?"

His hand started a lazy trail from the back of her knees up to her inner thighs and back down again.

"I don't know," he said.

His hand trailed the same lazy trail up to her inner thighs and went further this time, jumping across her mound and continuing on their carefree path down her other leg. As his hand came up the leg again, he asked with a twinkle in his eye, "Do you want me to touch you here?" He paused with his palm grazing her pubic hairs, making them shake like palm trees in a soft wind, before resuming his leisurely caress down another thigh.

She found it was nice that he was taking the effort to woo her libido slowly. She was getting aroused, or maybe she was already aroused the whole time. She decided to be cheeky and turned towards him, giving him a surprising "No." Inwardly her body screamed "Yes" but she always had been a little stubborn and she refused to give him the satisfaction of submission. She gave him a kiss to demonstrate her playfulness before returning to her usual position. Or maybe the kiss was due to her arousal; she wasn't sure. Looking down, she realised he could easily tell she was worked up -- her skirt was bunched high and her clitoris was poking through, clearly visible with her arousal.

"No?" he asked darkly. Darkly but playfully, she thought.

"No." She confirmed, wiggling her bottom against his hard on and settling herself comfortably against it. The thought of his penis made her think of things she surprisingly hadn't thought of until now and she felt her nether regions sizzle in anticipation. Oh, this was going to feel so good.

"Well too bad. I will touch your clitoris then... with my mind."

Oh shit. What would that feel like? She shuddered to think of it.

"No," she protested even as she felt her clitoris come alive. It was almost alarming how quickly she could feel her arousal. As she felt her clitoris growing, it seemed to brush against her nether lips. The friction caused by the movement was exquisite. She had no words to describe it. He hadn't even touched her yet and she was already breathing harder. She could feel herself getting wetter as her vulva lips seemed to part before her eyes. She felt the air brush friction against her enlarging clitoris and she was rewarded with pleasurable sensations that rippled through her from her woman's centre all the way to her soul, shivering her body, forcing her eyes closed and clouding her thoughts. Her body screamed for his hands to touch her even as her conscious mind was horrified at her intense need to be touched along with the real possibility -- no, the definite reality -- that any touch would drive her mad. Her clitoris! She would go literally mad.

"No," she reiterated, truly afraid for the first time. Her eyes flew open watching unbelievably as her clitoris sent pulse after pulse of arousal to her brain. She realised the danger of succumbing to the pleasure but OH MY GOD... Her mind was rapidly dissolving in the pleasure her clitoris was promising. She saw his hand coming nearer and her hips struggled to get away. Her hip movements rocked her clitoris and sent pure pleasure searing through her soul. Oh my god. He hasn't even touched me yet and I'm shaking. I can't let him touch me. I can't let him touch me. She struggled in his embrace.

He'd wrapped one arm around her tiny frame, trapping both her arms. His other hand seemed intent on reaching her clitoris, promising euphoria and despite her horror, his large hands were undeniably offering the single most erotic promise imaginable. She squirmed with all her strength, her eyes wild with fear and desire even as every movement sent bolts of sexual delight careening through her. She found if she leaned forward, she could flex her elbows and wrists in a manner that seemed to be successful in fending off his other hand. She was bucking her body in a desperate need to hide her sex. Each movement was driving her delirious. She realised she was salivating and had forgotten to swallow but couldn't seem to find the time for that. She wanted to pull her thighs together but his ankle lock prevented that. She was rapidly losing control of her body and sliding into a carnal delirium. She was twisting sideways, shuddering, arching and she was no longer conscious of what she was fighting for. Her clitoris was alive. ALIVE. It pulsed with erotic bursts of unparalleled pleasure, contorting her body with the most excruciating bolts of ecstasy and promising so much more if she would just... would just... She was screaming, from pleasure or fear or...

She knew her thighs were soaked from her arousal. The smell of sex was overpowering. She could feel the air -- The Air -- touching her clitoris. Her hips were humping the air now. Her eyes were unfocused. Her mind -- a maniacal puddle of molten joy. She realised her thighs were trying to squeeze her clitoris to get more pleasure but her legs were being forced apart against her will. Every traitorous touch of her vulva on her clitoris was dynamite. Her hands were reaching for her sex but something was restraining them. How long had that been going on for?

She needed more. MORE! She arched her body, if she kissed him, maybe he'd kiss her back. Maybe he'd kiss her down there. Oh shit. The image sent a shiver through her taut body and when the shiver reached her clitoris her mind blacked out again in pure bliss. She felt she was riding wave after wave in a tsunami of pleasure. The touch was not enough. Her gyrating hips were not enough. Every movement she made was futile.

She was drenched in sweat, her muscles sore, her sex pulsed with need. She could even feel her vaginal muscles clenching involuntarily. Her gyrations slowed down. She was tired. How long had it been? Her clitoris was still electric. When she waved her hand at it, the air running past felt sublime. Someone was holding her. She was reclining backwards and he was cradling her, whispering something, she thought. Maybe her name?

She took a deep breath and promptly choked on her unswallowed saliva.

*cough* *cough* *cough*

Well that killed her arousal.

She felt herself being placed upright and continued coughing. He seemed to be encouraging her to cough. First aid for coughing up swallowed objects is to encourage the person to cough, she remembered dimly. She fell back into his arms, drained. She flexed a leg weakly. Her clitoris tingled in response. Yes, it still felt good, but... what happened?

A male voice asked, "Are you o Kaye?"

Kaye. Someone was speaking to her. Xavier. Memory returned. She tested her voice softly, "Yeah, I'm okay." With more confidence, she continued, "I think so." She sucked in a breath and flexed her other leg. That felt nice. He'd done that thing to her clitoris.

Wow.

Aloud, she said, "What happened?" She tried moving her hips and felt the electric buzz of her clitoris yet again. It felt incredible.

"You wanted to touch yourself. I had to stop you."

Yeah. She remembered the need. Wow. Just wow. Scary, but... wow.

She was remembering more and more.

"Did you touch me?"

"No. You touched yourself."

"I did?" she asked in surprise. She didn't remember that. She remembered being terrified of letting him touch her. She remembered wanting to touch herself but he hadn't let her. "The bastard. It would have felt so good," she caught herself thinking even as she knew it probably did feel so good -- good to the point where she couldn't even remember it.

"Yeah," he said, kissing her forehead gently, "You were fending me off and then suddenly you just grabbed yourself, screamed loud enough that I was scared the police would come."

"I don't remember that," she argued weakly.

"I pulled your hands away a second or two after that."

"I don't remember that," she repeated.

He gave a little snort-grunt, "Spittle was flying from your face, Kaye." He smiled at the memory.

Bastard.

He continued, "You were flicking sweat everywhere and getting real slippery to hold on to."

She could believe that. She was drenched. Covered in sweat and sex. She realised she was thirsty. And still horny. She squeezed her thighs together and was stimulated with a thrill. Still so incredibly horny. How was that even possible?

"Did you put that block on my orgasm again?" she asked.

"Yup," came his unapologetic reply. "Didn't want you screaming the house down."

What a Royal Bastard. No wonder she was so horny. Orgasm blocked again! She remembered that doing so had given him a headache earlier. By all accounts, holding her orgasm at bay this time should have split his head in two. Would serve him right but he didn't seem at all in pain now. If anything, he seemed happy -- talkative even -- probably excited from her little performance earlier. She was still physically tired but her mental faculties had returned. She wondered if she could take advantage of his good mood and ask him more questions. Despite his adamant stance in the car that he wouldn't answer questions, he'd actually been really forthcoming with her questions whilst in bed.

"How'd you block my orgasm without me ripping your head open?" she asked.

He thought carefully before replying. "Before, I tried to stop your orgasm from happening consciously. It was mental effort like trying to stop a leaky dam from bursting open."

She found the image erotic and slapped herself mentally. She had to stop thinking about sex. This was important.

He continued without a pause, "I changed tactics and did something different."

He stopped talking and the silence stretched on. He still hadn't answered the question. Was he going to? She'd asked him how he blocked her orgasm. He said he'd tried something different. What was it with him and speech? Who needs so long to think? She decided to bring him back on track in case his mind had wandered elsewhere.

She leaned over and kissed him on his abdomen. He was sweaty too. A little salty. She decided she liked it and had to pull her mind back. "So," she prodded, "what did you do different this time?"

"I took your orgasm centre and placed it somewhere that couldn't be touched."

Orgasm centre. What was that? She realised it would probably be hard for him to explain and wondered if it would be faster if she tried to work it out rather than ask him for an explanation. Orgasm centre. Placing it somewhere it couldn't be touched implies she wouldn't be able to orgasm without this orgasm centre being stimulated? But it was an abstract concept, right? There is no actual body part called an orgasm centre. Still, if he could isolate the trigger for her orgasm and bundle it somewhere either physically or abstractly, did that make sense? She thought it kind of did. Orgasm centre. Okay.

"Umm..." she asked, "Where did you put it?"

He laughed. It was a rich laughter. She decided she liked that too. She was liking him a bit too much, she thought.

His lively voice followed, "I wasn't sure where I could put it that wouldn't receive physical stimulation. I eventually popped it in your middle ear."

"My what!?!"

"Your middle ear. Behind your ear drum."

Wow. She tried jiggling her head. Nothing. Was it still there? She shook her head back and forth. Still nothing. "Umm... Can you undo that please?"

He smiled. It was full of mirth. "I've already dissolved it."

She was relieved. She was imagining going about for the rest of her life, desperately digging away at her ear trying to achieve an orgasm. Or deliberately visiting childcare centres trying to catch a middle ear infection just to experience an orgasm again. She laughed at the thought.

He joined in on the laughter and gave her a kiss on her lips.

"Thirsty?" he asked.

"Yes please," she answered.

He got up and left. The absence of his presence was surprising in its coldness. She was shocked at the sense of loss she felt and began searching her feelings for him. She thought he was nice, in a somewhat scary way. He hadn't actually harmed her, except for that clitoris thing -- she'd like to talk to him about that. She tried to decide if she actually liked him or if it was just hormones and arousal. She realised she really didn't know yet. A large part depended on what he was doing to her and why. Was she just one toy in an endless string of toys for him? She could never have imagined herself ever putting up with a guy like that before, but if he had other women all gushing for his touch, would she want to be a part of that? She wasn't sure. It was tempting, but also somewhat demeaning. Maybe if she thought of it as just sex. She corrected herself -- really great just sex. He seemed to be genuinely drawn to her and to focus on her pleasure. He was impressively calm about his own needs. He was a mysterious contradiction to her -- men have needs and he clearly desired her, yet was holding his desire in check with respectable stoicism. No man had ever done that for her before. Not to this intensity, anyway. Her mind tingled with the memory.

On the other hand, that thing he did with her clitoris was truly cruel. She wouldn't want to experience it quite like that again. Did he know how that would affect her? Or was this his first time doing something like that? Was it deliberate or a genuine mistake? He had seemed genuinely surprised and appeared to be inventing things on the spot -- it hardly seemed like a planned or deliberate act. But he must have done this before. She can't be his first girl. Surely not.

He walked back in the room with two plastic water bottles. Not cups, she noticed, and she had to laugh at his practicality. She was very thirsty and he must have known it. Bottles it was then.

"Feels humid," he said, sniffing the air as he entered. "Smells like sex." He shot her a cheeky look with his eyes and she felt her heart lurch with an extra beat.

Damn. It was too easy for him to flirt with her in this mood. Not fair. She realised the smell must have been stronger for him because he had just re-entered the room.

"Whose fault is that?" she replied cheekily.

He climbed onto the bed and gave her a water bottle, surprising her with his reply. "My fault. Sorry, Kaye. I didn't realise how powerful doing your clitoris would be."

Raping my clitoris more likely. But the admission put her at ease regardless. She was on her guard and had readied herself to see through any hint of deception, but his easy manner and upfront apology seemed sincere. She searched his face as she emptied her bottle of water. He wasn't gloating. He wasn't happy. He seemed to be pondering or reflecting. She realised she was still thirsty and noticed that Xavier hadn't touched his water bottle yet.

"Are you going to drink that?" she asked.

He looked at the full water bottle in his hand. "I just drank in the kitchen."

Oh. That made sense.

"Can I have it then?" she asked.

He passed the bottle to her, saying, "It was meant for later, but, oh well."

She took the bottle and her belly did a flip-flop at the mention of later. She really couldn't believe how wound up she was. Everything just came back to sex. Even the humidity in the room was sexy to her.

"Can I ask that you not do that to my clitoris again, please?" She took one long drink and decided to leave the bottle mostly full. For later. And her body shivered. She blamed the evaporating sweat but was only partially able to convince herself on that. For later, had conjured all kinds of emotions. Sex sex sex. My god. She really just needed to get this over with.

"Sorry," he replied. "I've been thinking I probably shouldn't play too much with your nipples either. It seems the more naturally sensitive the area the more intense I can make it."

It made sense but she felt a pang of disappointment. Her nipples. She loved her nipples. If her nipples could feel better, would she want it? She felt powerful with her breasts. They made her confident around men. She had often thought that if her lady bits were a woman's centre then her breasts were the hands that drew men nearer and the nipples were the fingers that tantalisingly stuck out to rub against a man's chest. If her nipples could become as sensitive as her clitoris. Wow... Her body was starting to react to her imagination. Intellectually however, she realised she wouldn't consciously agree to heightening her arousal further tonight. She was so worked up already she didn't need a mind-fuck to get her off. With the way she was throbbing down there, her orgasm tonight -- even a natural orgasm -- was guaranteed to be the most mind-blowing experience of her life. She just knew it. Sex with Xavier, knowing he could at any time just jack-up her emotional response -- just the possibility of doing so or the memory of it could almost finish her off.

She was salivating again and quickly swallowed. She decided to be honest.

"I'm really horny right now, Xavier." She watched him closely. His pupils seemed to dilate and she swore his nostrils flared with her admission. Nice. She could affect him too. She liked the feeling. She started to trail a single finger down his sweat-soaked chest. "You've really made me incredibly aroused." Her hand reached his boxers and she continued to tease the silky material, hoping he could feel her through it. "I don't need any more of your mind-fuck." She tickled the top of his manhood through the silky material and was rewarded as it strained against her fingers. She withdrew slightly, keeping a gentle contact as she dragged her finger on his boxers along his growing length. Let's give him a taste of his own medicine, she decided. "Really Xavier, I feel I'm just about to explode." She gave him a playful squeeze and was delighted when he throbbed. "You can do things to me naturally and I will have the most amazing orgasm in front of your eyes. I know I will. You don't understand the knife-edge I'm riding right now."

It was true. Her dirty talk had not only worked him up. She felt ultra-charged and on fire. The smallest pressure as she swayed her hips seductively at him made her think she would likely lose it soon. She found the front button on his boxers. It was cleverly disguised as an eye on what appeared to be a one-eyed snake. Cute. She undid the button with her teeth and was rewarded with a sharp gasp. Using her nose, she folded back the silky material to release his steel manhood. It flung itself free of its confines and throbbed.

She starred transfixed at his pole. It was average in every respect, perhaps a little thicker than she was used to. The sight of it jacked her arousal up to a whole new level. Without any touch, she could already feel her wetness seeping down her legs. He was up on his knees and she was on all fours as if crawling towards him. She still had the skirt on and laughed at the absurdity of it. He could have had her naked at the get-go.