Soft

I had no intentions of touching myself last night.  And then I thought of his tongue on my pussy, his teeth on my clit.

My body tensed, reflexively.  My cunt tightened and pulsed.  I had a need.

The past few nights had been disappointing.  Frantic stroking had produced nothing but frustration.  Last night was different.

I slowly, softly, delicately touched my lips, feeling my juices, smelling my own scent.  My finger leisurely drew whorlish patterns around my pussy and across my clit.

I felt my body tense.  My impatient nature came screaming to the forefront.

No, just ride this one out, I thought to myself. Relax and breathe.

Agonizingly slow, I continued to stroke my very wet, very hot clit.  Over and over, a constant, gentle stroking.  My body began to shake from the exertion of staying relaxed.

As I moved closer towards release, my clit became slicker and somehow more decadent than before.  As I began to drift with the currents of sensations I was creating, I abruptly exploded across my hands.  My clit was swollen and so sensitive. I came again with a few firm strokes.  My fluids dripped down my lips into my ass, pooling under me.

Drunk on the feeling of release, I rubbed, tapped, and abused my pussy to feel myself spurt across my hand again.  My personal perfume filled my room.  I wanted to continue, wanted that power of controlling my own body, bending it to my will, creating sensations long forgotten, maybe never known.

Instead, I rolled to my side, curled my wet hand under my cheek, and closed my eyes.