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No Touching


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   I open my car door and cold, December wind chills the wet fingers of my right hand. He's leaning against his work truck, already stroking himself; a devious smile curling his lips. 

   "Did I say you could take your hand out of your pants?" I stop dead in my tracks, looking down at my hand and back up at his grin. I had been ordered to play with myself the entire drive to his house, and had obeyed. It was a careless mistake, I hadn't been ordered to stop, after all.

   "No sir..." The slick digits slide back between the fabric of my underwear and my hot skin, and one of them grazes over my overly-sensitive clit. I close the rest of the distance between us in that position; every movement - intentional or otherwise - sending shocks of arousal up my body as his piercing blue eyes stab into my vulnerability.

   All it takes is a pointed nod from him to convey that I should be on my knees. The gravel of the driveway digs into the joints - the cold air chilling my nose and ears - but I can't feel a thing, save for the burning between my legs and the crushing desire to have him in my mouth.

   "This won't be fucking you tonight, do you understand?" He had already alluded to this kind of denial play before I began driving, and one of his favorite past times is teasing me until I go insane and start begging for more, so I'm not entirely surprised.

   "Yes sir." He's still stroking himself, only now it's mere inches from my face and I stare, unsure of what he wants me to do. Luckily, there's always a command to clear up any of that uncertainty.

   "Open your mouth and get as close to it as you can, but no touching." I do as commanded of me and the smell of him alone is enough to coat my fingers in a new layer of wetness. The tempo on my clit falls into synchronization with his strokes and all I can think about in this moment is how much I want to touch him. In an instant of pure ecstasy, my tongue darts out and flicks playfully at the bottom side of the head.


   "Did I tell you you could touch my dick, slut?" The stinging on my cheek where his hand made contact is minimal; he never hits hard enough to actually hurt, at least not on my face. And yet, for some unfathomable reason, the only physical reaction my body has to something so degrading is to flood my panties further with moisture. I begin playing with myself faster immediately and my back arches where I kneel before him. The moan that escapes me can only be described as slutty.

   "No sir..."

   "What was that?"

   "No sir."


   "No sir!" Satisfied with my volume, he grabs a fistful of hair at the back of my head and re-positions me in front of his dick. I open my mouth like before and for a few maddening minutes we simply play with ourselves in the quiet of the night.

   "Lick the tip." Letting go of my hair, he continues his rhythm and I adjust myself before him. My tongue meets his hot flesh and it takes every ounce of my self control not to take as much of the impressive length as I can into my mouth. After spending a few minutes coating as much of him as I can in saliva, my lips close around the edge of the tip, almost on instinct.


   "Get your mouth off my dick, slut." His hand is pulling at my scalp again, it becoming clear to him that I won't obey on my own. My mouth remains open, and he rubs himself on my tongue; the grip on my hair making any movement on my part impossible.

   "You're an insatiable little whore, aren't you?" I nod my head as much as I can and moan an incoherent agreement. I feel his dick slide just the tiniest amount further down my tongue.

   "You want this big cock all the way at the back of your throat?" Another, more desperate, nod. I want nothing more in this world.

   "Are you sure?" The 'uh-huh' I try to say sounds silly coming from my gaping mouth, but I don't care. It sounds like I might get what I want after all. I feel my pussy tremble around my fingers.

   Without warning, the grip on the back of my head rushes me forward. I squeal my surprise around him as it slides as far in as it will go. Air is cut off to me as the trimmed hair at his base tickles my nose. His responding groan is more of a growl than anything else; it doesn't sound even slightly human.

   "There ya go...take it...this is what you wanted, right?" No reply is possible as he begins thrusting, each push met with a tiny, ***d sound from me. I look up at him - see the expression of pure rapture on his face - before my eyes close and the only thing in the world that exists to me is the dick in my throat. It feels like a second and an eternity all at once before he speaks again.

   "You better drink all of it...here it comes..." I can hear the change in his voice; he's close. With a few slightly more sporadic thrusts, I finally get the prize that never fails to satisfy me. Warm liquid pours into me, and he removes himself just enough so he can see it spilling into my mouth. I swallow it all, shuddering a little at the strange, salty taste of it, before smiling up at him cheerfully.

   "Feel better?" He chuckles lightheartedly as he takes my hand and helps me to my feet.

   "Of course, darlin'." It's as if it had been some sort of play, and the scene had ended. We rush into the cabin, shivering in the absence of impending sexual release, and warm ourselves on the wood stove before throwing in a movie and spending the rest of the night talking and laughing over it.

   If anything in this world can ever remain constant, my only wish is that it is my connection with him.

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