Co-conspirators ~ Liveonce and Belle
We meet at a local sex shop. I arrive early, gazing at a case of dildos. I let my mind wander imagining what each will feel like inside of me. Thankfully you arrive before the frustrating tingle between my legs becomes any more pronounced. We hungrily kiss one another. My arms are thrown around your neck, your hands planted on my hips, thumbs pushing against my taunt stomach, palms on my hip bones, your long fingers stretch back to caress my juicy ass.
I assume we will make a complete tour of the store stopping to look at displays that catch our eyes. You are in charge and grasp my elbow directing me to the staircase, up to the second floor, and to a small glass case at the center. The case is filled with an assortment of vibrators. I, naturally, begin to imagine various scenarios. I look forward to discussing my thoughts and preferences with you but I am ignored as you motion for the male clerk’s assistance.
You immediately let the clerk know you desire a remote controlled bullet vibrator for public use. You discuss the features of several of the instruments emphasizing that it must be powerful but with a wide range of speeds and…oh yes…the remote must be able to operate from long distances. After much discussion you settle on a mid-sized silver bullet that has the desired range.
The clerk processes your credit card and begins placing the new toy in a bag but is stopped by an inquiry as to the location of the restroom. There is no need to waste a sack! You again firmly grasp my elbow and steer me to the restroom. It is unisex and we enter together. You take the bullet and remote out of their package, slip in the batteries and lay the business end on the counter.
You barely turn the dial and the shiny instrument starts to hum and throb; another turn, a louder hum and more vibration; a final turn, the bullet dances its way across the counter and has to be caught before it falls to the floor. You pull a vial from your pocket and disinfect it. You grasp the back of my neck, kissing me passionately. You look me in the eye with a devious smile and say, “You are all mine tonight. Don’t even try to get away.”
Knowing what I am to do, I pull down my panties, lean over the counter and insert my new friend and foe well up inside me. No lubricant needed thank you very much! You grab my wrist, bring my fingers to your mouth and slowly engulf each of the digits that took part in the insertion. We leave the store and walk toward a nearby restaurant. I am surprised, although I can feel it, there is no impediment to my stride.
The game for the evening is to act as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, while carrying out the normal progression of a date. We talk of our day’s activity but in the back of my mind I wonder when, how, and where you will exercise your right to control the tool that rests in the wet folds of my body. Questions flash through my mind. Will the sensation be pleasant? Will I be able to control myself? Will other people hear the hum? I am excited, aroused but also frightened.
At the restaurant we are shown to a booth in a secluded corner. The other patrons will be out of earshot but will the waiter be able to hear? Still nothing…the uncertainty is maddening! I want to grab the control and end the suspense. We order drinks. You wait till the waiter delivers them, then I involuntarily flinch and gasp. How dare you! Has the waiter noticed? As he retreats you, my master/tormenter/enabler, stop the joy.
The next session with my silver lover starts much as the first except longer with a ratcheting up of the intensity. I lose count after five jolts, each lasting at least 30 seconds. I am left perspiring and squirming. I can feel the abundant moisture held in check by the lips of my pussy. How much longer will the slick substance be kept in place?
Our lengthy session leaves me with the disappointing realization. Although I derive great pleasure, there will be no orgasm without additional stimulation. If only I can get my hand, a table leg, anything to push against, I can reach my objective. I start to drop my hands into my lap but you grab them, smile and utter a gentle no. I realize there is a very fine line between pleasure and torture.
Dinner is a blur. I have no sense of what I am eating or saying. My only focus is the irregular throbbing in my core; the pleasure of approaching orgasm always just out of my reach, followed by a respite of varying lengths. At its most intense I can feel the vibration in my unrestrained supersensitive breasts as they brush against the fabric of my thin ivory silk blouse.
Based on the eyes of my master and the waiter, my erect nipples are obvious to anyone who cares to look. Finally it is time to leave. I try to walk out with some grace; the focus of my entire being hums away and my eraser like nipples signal my arousal. During the short walk to the hotel there are bursts of maximum pulsation when my thighs and therefore knees involuntarily clench, making a normal gait impossible.
Through the lobby there is a period of blessed stillness. We get on the elevator with two other couples. You ramp the apparatus up to full speed. I think, ‘Please someone talk to drown out the hum that is roaring in my ears!’ At our floor I stumble off the elevator. There is no relief as we walk to the room. Finally we are inside our den, my hands shoot for my thighs but you grab my wrists.
You half drag me a short distance and throw me on the bed with my feet still on the floor. Again I try to use my fingers and give myself relief. This time you throw my hands roughly above my head. I know better than to try again. You push my skirt up and pull my tiny sopping panties completely off. You spread my legs wide. There are tears in my eyes as I plead…“Please, please, please.” My gasps vary from demanding, to pleading, to a barely audible begging whimper.
The first few swipes with your tongue barely brush my clit but evoke a grunt followed by a moan. Then you mash your face against me. It only takes a few seconds of lapping, till I drive myself against you bucking and screaming. You stay attached until I twist away making almost unintelligible grunting sounds, punctuated with the word… “Off… off… please... turn it off.”
But the night is still young and you brought extra batteries.
