Sympathetic Resonance

Mara is so fucking close right now, straining at the edge of that orgasm, desperately rubbing herself harder and harder, aching for that release. And Jasmine…

Jasmine is so fucking close right now, too. As close as Mara. Precisely as close as Mara. Her hand on Mara’s is the only part of her she can move, and so she grips as tightly as she can, as she feels every one of Mara’s strokes, every scrap of Mara’s pleasure, magnified a hundredfold. Mara’s pleasure thunders through her body and she has no control, can only lie there and watch as the pleasure fills her.

Because no matter how hard Mara fucks herself, Mara can only brush up against that delicious edge, can never coax her body past that threshold. Jasmine, however, gets to feel the orgasm that Mara can’t have, gets to feel it slam through her body like a tsunami and leave her limp and breathless in its wake.

But Mara will keep trying. Desperately, hopelessly, she’ll keep fucking herself into oblivion chasing the release she craves. And so Jasmine has no other choice–she too will lay there, squeezing Mara’s hand impossibly tight, the only little bit of control she has left, and feel that reflected pleasure wrack her body, feel herself come again, and again, and again…

New Perfume

Photo from "Maison Francis Kurkdjian” by Alisa Verner

“Do you want to smell my new perfume?” Angela had asked, innocently enough, and Olivia had agreed, and inhaled deeply from the tiny vial.

Her eyes went glassy as she smiled up at her friend. “Wow, that’s… nice. What… what is it?” And then shook her head as if to clear it, and was seemingly back to normal again–though she did notice, somehow, a creeping warmth between her legs.

The next time Angela had offered her a whiff, the cloudy-headed sensation had stuck around a bit longer, followed by a flush of heat in her body, and the realization that it was simply too stuffy in this room to keep her clothes on. As she stripped, Angela had gestured at the floor, and Olivia had gratefully sunk to her knees–after all, she had been on her feet all day, and it felt so comfortable to kneel, and to be so close to Angela… Angela, who had at some point taken off some clothes as well? But that was okay, because that meant that Olivia got to feel those warm legs pressed against her and the silky feel of the stockings between their skin, and it was so nice and comfortable and…

Angela offered a wrist, and Olivia inhaled automatically. God, that perfume smelled so good, and Angela’s skin was so wonderfully warm, and somehow her hand arrested all of Olivia’s attention. She couldn’t stop thinking about what it might be like to incline her head just another inch, to press her lips against Angela’s soft and tender wrist, to lick the perfume from her; what noises she could kiss from her companion. How else she could please, how else she could serve…

Angela moved her arm slowly to one side, then the other, and Olivia’s whole torso followed as the woman stared, transfixed. A slow smile spread across Angela’s face, and she let her legs spread wider. Olivia’s lips, wonderfully warm and wet, pressed luxuriously into Angela’s wrist, and she moaned low in her throat. Olivia was moving slowly and lingeringly as she licked and sucked so skillfully, ingesting more of the perfume all the while, and Angela was content to revel in the languorous pleasure. She had all the time in the world right now, and if this was what Olivia was like after just a few minutes under the drug’s influence… Angela shivered pleasantly and guided Olivia’s face between her legs.

It was going to be a fun evening.