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Relentless

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Sometimes doing the wrong thing can be a good thing

The soft flow of her hair had gradually disappeared as the mist turned to soft rain, and yet she was relentless in the pursuit of her goal. As the drops grew heavier, flowing in rivulets down the back of her neck under the collar of her blouse, she never wavered. The same slow movement, almost mechanical in nature, continued. Her hair, now seeming even darker, shriveled into tangled strands, allowing even more rain to flow down onto her face and shoulders, soaking her blouse and even her pants below. For forty-seven minutes she had been relentless.

When the rain began to fall like pellets, he reached down to touch her cheeks, to pull her away, but she brushed his hands aside. He was embarrassed, thinking it might be humiliating her and yet she relented, as she always did. The rain was cool on his naked abs and it splattered, sometimes splashing into her face, but it didn’t matter to her.

He wished he hadn’t started the game this morning. When she had awakened, his shoulders had slipped under her legs and she felt his stubble on the inside of her thighs, felt his warm breath approaching her love nest. A full night’s rest emboldened her; “Take your time, all the time you want,” she had whispered to him. And he did.

They had become lovers, adulterer and adulteress, secretly meeting and sharing their love for extended teasing and intense orgasms, and the means by which they achieved orgasm was immaterial. The goal was to inflict enough pleasure to induce begging; genuine, gut-wrenching begging, something they had never experienced with their spouses.

So that morning after an evening of exhausting intercourse, he was revived and she was eager for more. The condom from the previous evening lay on the bedroom floor where she had tossed it, having peeled it gingerly from his shriveling member. She had always been fascinated by the texture, smell and taste of semen, but now the condom lay limp on the bedroom floor, its content ignored and forgotten.

He stiffened his tongue and inserted into her wetness like a semi-hard penis, pressing his face deep into her flesh. Then he swiped up through her wet slit and used the tip to circle around her clit, something that drove her crazy. He continued teasing her like that, dipping his tongue in, gliding it through her slit and teasing her clit until her heels pressed hard against his back.

It was a sick habit, but he actually looked at his wristwatch, carefully planning on beating his best time teasing her, delaying her orgasm for as long as he could. She enjoyed the game as well because he had a magnificent way of using his tongue that always satisfied her. He had only been teasing her about twenty minutes when her heels on his back communicated that she needed more.

He began lapping at her clit, slowly, loudly, like a cat taking milk from a bowl. Then he added a new element to his teasing. He slipped a finger into her pussy, just once. She softly whined with disappointment as he removed it, but he slid it gently into the crack of her buttocks. She smiled and pulled her legs up, knees towards her chest to allow him easy access.

He dragged the tip of his wet finger across her tight sphincter, back and forth with the same slow motion his tongue was making across her clit. She wanted penetration, and he knew it, but he was not ready to give it to her. He slid his finger inside her pussy over and over and each time only used his fingertip to stimulate her tight hole. She moaned but did not protest. Part of the game was to take all you could no matter what, until there was no return.

When he was ready, he slid his finger inside her one more time and when he pressed the tip against her tight asshole, he slid the finger slowly inside her, until it had disappeared. She was beside herself with pleasure, moaning, encouraging him, “Oh, yes, baby, fuck it for me.”

He acquiesced but on his terms; he slowly pumped his finger in and out of her anus but stopped licking her clit. He looked at his watch again; forty-two minutes now into the game. He could feel her clenching his finger as he probed her anus. He leaned down and blew a breath on her clit and she gasped, anticipating his tongue.

She had learned how to withhold her excitement for the most part, but he had not used his finger there before and it added to her struggle to fight her need to climax. But then he laid the icing on the cake and began sucking her clit, gently but with purpose. His finger pumped faster, pressing harder into her and pulled at her sphincter as it withdrew and her legs moved closer together on his shoulders.

Her hands gripped his head, unsure of whether to push him away and be fucked or to let him suck the life out of her. She chose the latter and succumbed to the pleasure his mouth was giving her as his finger ravaged the rim of her anal passage.

She came, bucking against his mouth, screaming his name, not caring if anyone in adjoining hotel rooms might hear. He pushed his finger inside her ass to the limit and sucked her clit hard into the roof of his mouth. Her fingers nearly ripped his hair from his head and she tried to jam more of her flesh into his warm, wonderful sucking mouth.

When it was all over and she had recovered, she looked at him. “How did I do?” she asked.

“Fifty-seven minutes overall, not your best time, but I trust you enjoyed it?” he smirked.

“Yes, but you cheated; it was supposed to be oral only, no touching,” she protested.

“It seemed the right thing to do; did it disappoint you?”

“Hell, no, it was really intense, regardless of how long it was.”

“Good; I wanted you to enjoy it thoroughly,” he said.

She sighed, kissed him lightly on the lips and stood up, putting her clothes on. “I did, and always do. Are you ready?” she asked.

“I guess so,” he answered, wondering why she wasn’t taking her turn to tease him now.

“We’re going for a walk; I need some fresh air,” she said, tossing her soft raven hair.

They walked two blocks from their hotel to a shaded wooded area that had an ice cream stand with a wooden bench in front of it. As they neared the door, they read a sign on the door: “Closed: equipment failure – be back Monday.”

“What now?” he asked, not expecting any particular answer.

“Drop your pants and boxers and sit on the bench,” she said, looking around.

There was nobody in the area since dark clouds controlled the sky, and he complied.

So, there she had been on her knees in front of him for forty-nine minutes, tearing his stamina to shreds, even now in this downpour. Her method was simple: a no-hands approach that took him forever to reach an orgasm, just the way she liked it.

She kissed the tip of his cock, and then slid her mouth slowly down the shaft until it filled her mouth. She held that position as long as she could, loving the feel of his veins pulsing against the flat of her tongue. Then she sucked on the shaft as she moved slowly upward, finally popping her mouth off.

And then she did it again, and again, and again and the forty-nine minutes stretched along with the stiffness of his cock. She never changed the pace of the pressure of her mouth; that was key to teasing him for a long time. She had no idea of the time; that was his job, to monitor the event, his or hers.

Time passed the hour mark and he had been struggling and she knew it, but her method was such a tease that he was becoming frustrated. He needed to come. Thunder crashed somewhere overhead and she mumbled, “Fuck it, I’m getting cold.”

With one hand she fondled his balls and used the other one to stroke his shaft. Her mouth followed her fist up and down his shaft and she moaned on his cock, something that always drove him crazy. He gripped the seat of the bench with both hands as his cock erupted in her mouth. He came so hard he wondered if it might have damaged the roof of her mouth. She never stopped as he ejaculated, and her mouth and fist continued until he shuddered with the intensity of his orgasm.

Coming off his cock, her mouth sucked up his cum and she licked it from her fingers. She took his cock deep in her mouth one last time, cleaning any remnants of his sperm.

“Well, how was it?” she asked, standing up slowly.

He looked at his watch again. “An hour and seven minutes of absolute sexual torture and about ten seconds of the most intense one yet. Awesome, just awesome,” he said, standing and pulling his wet pants and underwear on.

“If it hadn’t been for the rain, I could have made it longer,” she said proudly.

“And if you had made it much longer I could have had a stroke,” he added jokingly.

They walked hand in hand back to their hotel room, made love in the shower and later dressed quietly.

As they were leaving their hotel room, she kissed him again, softly and asked, "Same time next week?"

And he replied, "I'll be watching the time, as always.".

 

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