yourself. Run your hands all over your body, especially over your breasts. Play with your nipples. Remember, I’m watching—if you do this well, I might go easy on you later.”
I groaned and trailed my fingertips over my abdomen and up my sides. My skin was ultrasensitive to my own touch. I circled my breasts then lightly ran my fingers from the bases to the nipples, again and again, the feathery touch making my skin tingle. The thought that he was watching me heightened my sensitivity. I imagined him following the movements of my hands with his all-consuming gaze and I arched off the floor, my legs suddenly straining wide. I pinched my nipples and stretched them, needing harder stimulation.
He made a sound like a stifled moan and I heard him moving. What was he doing, and was he going to touch me? Not knowing was agony.
When he spoke again his voice was tight and rough.
“Now finger your pussy, Jane. Spread all those juices around. Get your hands wet.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice but I was quite shocked at how soaking wet I was. I spread myself with one hand, like he had done to me the night before, and dragged the fingers of my other hand through my sopping curls. I found the soft skin at my center and began rubbing my clit, writhing my hips, thinking all the time of his hot stare on me. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm coiling in my core.
“Very nice, Jane. Now lick your fingers. I want you to taste yourself. You can lift the shirt away from your mouth but don’t uncover your eyes.”
I followed his instructions, not daring to peep as I rearranged the shirt, knowing that he’d be watching closely. I licked cautiously at my forefinger. I’d never tasted myself before. It didn’t seem too bad.
“Not like that! Put your finger in your mouth and suck it. Swirl your tongue around it.”
I could smell myself on my hand as I sucked my finger. It was sweet and musky, and I thought I could understand why he’d lapped it up so eagerly last night.
“Now finger-fuck yourself, Jane. Get at least two fingers up your pussy and work that clit. I want to see you come. Show me how you like it.”
I started to work a finger into my tight little opening. This was new territory for me and I was still tender from his invasion of the day before.
“Open yourself up, Jane,” he rasped, also gasping now. “You’ve got to get two fingers in there before you come. I want to see that little cunt stretch for me. Spread your legs more.”
To my shock he wedged his boots on the inside of my thighs, just above my knees, and forced my legs wider apart. The heavy cleats on the soles of his shoes dug into my skin as he pushed my legs up and open. My feet no longer rested on the bench but stuck up in the air as my thighs were folded mercilessly back over my body and held in position. I was brutally exposed.
“Get that other finger in there, Jane,” he commanded as my whole body began to shake. “You’re about to come, and you’re not allowed to unless you have two fingers in your cunt.”
As soon as he said the words I realized that I was about to come. I frantically shoved my middle finger up my channel next to my forefinger, causing a sharp pinch of pain, and burst into an agonizingly intense orgasm. I felt my own contractions around my fingers, on and on, until I reached the point of collapse.
But it was not to be. He kept his boots on me and didn’t release my legs despite their trembling.
“Wait, Jane. I’m enjoying the sight of you spread out before me like this. And I like looking at your little stretched pussy. It’s not nearly as stretched as it will be after I fuck you, but there’s a bit of gape from your fingers, and you’re shining wet from coming. I like it.”
Dear god, his words! I’d just come but I could feel another orgasm cranking up inside me.
“So what’s the moral of the story, Jane?”
“You can look at me, Matt, whenever you want to. I won’t ever try to hide myself from
I groaned and trailed my fingertips over my abdomen and up my sides. My skin was ultrasensitive to my own touch. I circled my breasts then lightly ran my fingers from the bases to the nipples, again and again, the feathery touch making my skin tingle. The thought that he was watching me heightened my sensitivity. I imagined him following the movements of my hands with his all-consuming gaze and I arched off the floor, my legs suddenly straining wide. I pinched my nipples and stretched them, needing harder stimulation.
He made a sound like a stifled moan and I heard him moving. What was he doing, and was he going to touch me? Not knowing was agony.
When he spoke again his voice was tight and rough.
“Now finger your pussy, Jane. Spread all those juices around. Get your hands wet.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice but I was quite shocked at how soaking wet I was. I spread myself with one hand, like he had done to me the night before, and dragged the fingers of my other hand through my sopping curls. I found the soft skin at my center and began rubbing my clit, writhing my hips, thinking all the time of his hot stare on me. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm coiling in my core.
“Very nice, Jane. Now lick your fingers. I want you to taste yourself. You can lift the shirt away from your mouth but don’t uncover your eyes.”
I followed his instructions, not daring to peep as I rearranged the shirt, knowing that he’d be watching closely. I licked cautiously at my forefinger. I’d never tasted myself before. It didn’t seem too bad.
“Not like that! Put your finger in your mouth and suck it. Swirl your tongue around it.”
I could smell myself on my hand as I sucked my finger. It was sweet and musky, and I thought I could understand why he’d lapped it up so eagerly last night.
“Now finger-fuck yourself, Jane. Get at least two fingers up your pussy and work that clit. I want to see you come. Show me how you like it.”
I started to work a finger into my tight little opening. This was new territory for me and I was still tender from his invasion of the day before.
“Open yourself up, Jane,” he rasped, also gasping now. “You’ve got to get two fingers in there before you come. I want to see that little cunt stretch for me. Spread your legs more.”
To my shock he wedged his boots on the inside of my thighs, just above my knees, and forced my legs wider apart. The heavy cleats on the soles of his shoes dug into my skin as he pushed my legs up and open. My feet no longer rested on the bench but stuck up in the air as my thighs were folded mercilessly back over my body and held in position. I was brutally exposed.
“Get that other finger in there, Jane,” he commanded as my whole body began to shake. “You’re about to come, and you’re not allowed to unless you have two fingers in your cunt.”
As soon as he said the words I realized that I was about to come. I frantically shoved my middle finger up my channel next to my forefinger, causing a sharp pinch of pain, and burst into an agonizingly intense orgasm. I felt my own contractions around my fingers, on and on, until I reached the point of collapse.
But it was not to be. He kept his boots on me and didn’t release my legs despite their trembling.
“Wait, Jane. I’m enjoying the sight of you spread out before me like this. And I like looking at your little stretched pussy. It’s not nearly as stretched as it will be after I fuck you, but there’s a bit of gape from your fingers, and you’re shining wet from coming. I like it.”
Dear god, his words! I’d just come but I could feel another orgasm cranking up inside me.
“So what’s the moral of the story, Jane?”
“You can look at me, Matt, whenever you want to. I won’t ever try to hide myself from
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