I hadn’t touched myself – my labia, my clitoris, my mound – for anything other than utilitarian purposes in a long time. Three times he told me to touch my pussy, and each time the sensations surprised me, as if it were the very first time.
Soft, velvety soft. Soaking wet and slippery. Slick folds. Swollen clit.
My fingers slide in so easily. Mmmm, there it is – the ridgy, bumpy sensitive wall of flesh. Tapping, stroking. Hips lifting. Body shaking.
Pulling out, pressing. Legs spread. Moaning. Hissing. Spasms. Orgasms. Gushing, squirting.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Barely touching. Light strokes. Body on fire, ignited. Satiny, silky, creamy. Press, flick, swirl. Arch. Writhe. Orgasm.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Finally, I collapse into a boneless heap. Body trembling and shuddering with aftershocks.
Touching myself never felt so good.
nice, waiting to regain that sensitivity that he desires. thank you for sharing
/shivers. The sensitivity kills me! 🙂
hot.
(wet)
yummy delicious indulgence.
nilla
Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. 🙂 Yay!
I love watching you touch yourself, how your body moves and reacts. The sounds that escape your lips, at first so delicate, then becoming wanton and needy.
Oh Daddy. Thank you for this morning, by the way. 😀
My Sir would say the same. He tells me he watches me intently as I disappear inside my self and give over to the sensations.
It took me a while to be able to do that (in the beginning) but now it’s easy. 🙂