fold between the thighs and the pudendum, tracks down each valley, rolls across
the bottom and up past the cleft to the top, where it rotates around the clit
like some tiny moon. My entire body undulates in response to its movements, my
moans becoming more and more frenetic. Finally, the enigma slides across my clit,
followed closely by his tongue and teeth as he stimulates me to close to the edge
— then stops again.
I cry out at the sudden loss of sensation, then lose my breath as my nipples are
touched, held, taken, pinched, and pulled. The change in intensity confuses me,
and my body arches in pain-and-pleasure and total overload. By my nipples I am
pulled upright, my head still tilted back and held immobile. He kisses me once,
brutally, tongue probing deeply, teeth clashing and lips bruising mine. I am
turned, his hands swapping to hold my nipples firmly as he seats himself then
lowers me down onto his lap. His hard-as-nails cock which fills me utterly, and I
almost come as I attempt to impale myself completely upon it. His adjustable
chair sinks under the combination of both our weights. With one arm across my
hips and left breast he forbids me to move, while his other hand creeps down and
starts gently rubbing and circling and inflaming my clitoris and driving the
tingles of orgasm through my body. I cannot contain myself — I scream with the
complete overload of my senses and the spasms of my body force me up and down a
little on his cock, the friction adding to the charges bouncing back and forwards
through my body.
As I come down, his fingers trace around my mouth and the taste of me on my lips
augments the endnote as my vagina spasms around his cock for one last thrill. He
is still hard, still ready, and still inside me, and he brushes his palms in
front of my breasts and teases their tips.
Then he leans over to the computer, still holding me on his lap. On the desk, I
see a mouse-ball — the enigma from before. He touches a few buttons, then leans
back and puts his hands in front of me again; the merest touch on my nipples a
twinge so intense I gasp.
I raise to follow the sensation, and the chair raises with the loss of weight –
but not far enough. I realise I am about to lose him from inside me, and stop –
but I’ve lost the touch on my breasts. My head is still held high, and in the
vexing seeing-and-not-seeing is another sense gone crazy. And in the background I
can hear another woman screaming. In a less-confused quarter of my mind, I
realise it’s me — he’s been recording me. Somehow the fact merely arouses me
more, and I am closer again to orgasm than I thought a body could be without
actually being there. The other screams stop, he presses a key, and I know he’s
recording me again. And instead of silencing me, the knowledge makes me helpless
to stop myself — my groans are more liberated (and louder) than they were
before.
Without him needing to do more than hold his palms just in front of my breasts, I
am driven into a rhythm of raising and lowering, seeking the animation of the
nerves at alternate ends as my nipples pursue the palms and my genitalia ride his
pistonning lap, courtesy of the pneumatic height-adjusting chair. In my
frustration, my groans rise rapidly to a succession of cries from the depths of
my soul, and faster than I thought possible, I am brought to another seismic
orgasm.
In sweaty fulfilment I lean back against him. “You haven’t come yet, have you?” I
ask.
“Not yet — you still have some work to do.” He lifts me up from his lap, the
chair rising one last time with an exhausted sigh. He loosens my hair, but keeps
my arms bound. I am pushed forwards, my front over the desk as he drives into me
from behind, pulling me back onto him in a rhythm both faster and harder than any
other used tonight. The change, and the pressure on my thighs, and the strength
of his need send me over the edge for one last, monstrous orgasm that coincides
with his own cries as we come together. He loosens my arms, and rests on top of
me, holding me. Gently, he bites my shoulder.
“Bravo” he says.
“Encore!” I whisper.
)
