He Said No Touching ♕

He said no touching: I must obey

He said “No touching yourself until I say.”

So my mouth dries out. “Yes, sir.” I turn to present my back to him and hold up my hair. “A little help?”

“Manners,” he tuts and gives my bum a smack.

So it sends a jolt straight to my pussy. “I’m sorry, sir. Could you help, please?”

There is a pause, then his fingers brush my neck before they undo my zipper.

“Thank you,” I purr over my shoulder before I head for the stairs.

He’s watching me and the sharp V of skin he has revealed. My clit tingles in anticipation, and I am intensely aware of my thighs brushing together as I climb the stairs. He said no

Heart thrumming, I reach our bedroom. I slide the dress off and toss it over the armchair. That was all I was wearing for our anniversary dinner, a fact I informed him of in a low murmur in the middle of the first course.

Sexy Mr. Robinson licked his lips and shifted in his seat, eyes telling me exactly what he wanted to do to me. The anticipation continued to build as the evening went on… our feet winding together under the table, his fingers brushing my breast as he helped put my coat on, and his hand sliding up my thigh in the car. The kiss when we got home was needy, panting and gasping and grinding until he broke it off with his command. H

I find my blindfold on our bedside table, slip the silky fabric over my eyes, and lie back on our bed.

In the silent blackness, I am aware of my body. No, that is not quite right. I am aware of my cunt. It is warm and tingling. Wet and slippery. Empty and aching.

I think about what it will feel like when he finally fills me up with his cock. That moment when he pushes in and takes me, the exquisite blaze that burns through my body, sets me alight. Clenching on his cock as he begins to thrust, moaning with need —

But he’s not here.

Fuck. I grip the comforter and squirm until I can no longer ignore my skin crying out to be touched. My fingers drift across my ribs, up to the curve of my breast. I bite my lip, my nipples aching to be grazed. But, he said no touching. I drag my hand back to the comforter. A small whimper escapes.

I press my thighs together. The squeezing provides a brief hum of pleasure, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. Then I realize my hand is on my belly. It must have traveled there of its own accord. I shut my eyes tighter under the blindfold and chew my lip. He said no touching. He said no touching.

My pussy is so wet, I can imagine how his fingers will slide through — Fuck. I need to think about something else.

But there is nothing else. There is only need and want. A hole waiting to be filled.

Just one touch. One rub. Just enough to quell the heat for a moment.

So my finger slides into my folds and slips over my hard, aching clit. He said no

I gasp, loud in the silence.

So I rub it again. Oh, it feels so good.

No. He said no touching. I take my hand away, silently reprimanding myself.

I wiggle, legs pressed together, nipples thrust to the ceiling as my back arches.

But fuck. I have to. The need consumes me, eating away at any restraint that might have been there, hours ago. I push my finger back into my wet slit and, oh. Yes. I circle my clit, then rub it faster. The tingle of an orgasm pool in my center.

Then I hear it — a muffled inhale.

So I pause, ears sharp. A rustle of fabric.

He is watching.

And he hasn’t stopped me. He said no

So I moan and move my fingers again. My other hand cups my breast and then grips it. Fingers roll my nipple.

My other hand rubs faster, and the pleasure builds, folds back on itself; banks higher. The sparks travel along each limb; reach the ends of my body; my scalp prickles; there are white stars behind my eyes.

So I hear the wet slide of a hand on a cock. A low groan.

Panting, I reach down and push my fingers into my pussy for a few pumps, then, nice and wet, I return to my clit. I rub faster, and the pleasure crests. My eyes roll back; my toes curl. He said no.

“Fuuuuck,” I moan. So my pussy clenches around my finger as I cum, shaking and whimpering. The waves lift me up, hold me as I burn, caress me, then slowly, gently, set me back down as they fade.

When I sag into the bed, I hear a low chuckle.

“I said no touching.” I can hear him standing up and approaching the bed. “Now… what should your punishment be?

Punish me. Call me.