A Quiet Night In

I closed the apartment door behind Siobhan, the taste of her still lingering on my lips. I was a little disappointed that we hadn’t played, but she’d been having an off night, so we’d just cuddled and chatted and spent a lovely, quiet, warm evening together. She’d headed home instead of staying over for our usual all-night mind-and-body fuck-fest, and I certainly did not begrudge her that, because every now and then I’d done the same. Sometimes you just weren’t feeling it.

I made sure the door was locked, then flopped bonelessly on the couch. Why was I so damn tired? Maybe an early night would be good for me as well.

Even though we hadn’t fucked or gotten up to basically anything sexy, even just the lead-up to a night with Siobhan usually got me a kind of riled up. I liked it that way; it was fun when I was a little wet just from the anticipation. It gave me some hot narratives about how badly I wanted it, how much my body craved her voice and her touch, how my mind ran away from itself. I smiled at the thought and idly stuck a hand in my panties, looking for a little fantasy fuel.

I had expected myself to be a little wet, but what I found was… different.

I was more than “a little wet.” I was sodden. I was absolutely dripping. What…?

Oh.

Oh.

Like the first drops of water seeping through a crack in a dam, the memories started to trickle back. Siobhan’s hand in my hair, her voice sweet in my ear. My own eyes in the mirror, glassy and staring. The mantras that had rolled off my tongue and seared themselves into my mind.

And then the dam burst and a rush of memories slammed into me, knocking the breath from my body. There was me kneeling naked and Siobhan standing over me, fully clothed, and there were her hands turning me into putty, and there was me desperately licking her and melting my own mind at the same time, and there was the incandescent pleasure of her touch and her control, and the way that everything had felt so amazing that I’d begged her to break me…

Fuck. Oh my God.

She had fucked my mind so thoroughly that she could make me forget how thoroughly she had fucked my mind.

The thought was searingly hot. I felt my pussy clench, and almost involuntarily my hand went to my clit. Within seconds, my fingers were sticky with my own juices. My body was burning up, and I fucked myself hard and fast, suddenly desperate to come for Siobhan, to scream her name as I exploded.

Except what I wanted more than to come for Siobhan, I suddenly realized, was to edge for her. I abruptly stopped fucking myself just in time, and savored the way my pussy cried out in protest. What I wanted was to edge myself senseless for her, the way her words had fucked me senseless not even hours before. My nerves sang with desire, I ached for release… And I wanted to make it even worse.

I don’t know how long I spent like that–sprawled on the couch, mindlessly edging myself, always stopping within a hair’s breadth of the orgasm that my whole body craved. Later I would realize that I’d been so desperate and transported that I hadn’t even bothered to take my pants off all the way. It felt maddening, and it felt amazing, to keep feeding that fire until I thought I would burst with it. When I finally gave in, when I decided that I’d had enough and finally made myself come, I knew the orgasm would feel incredible.

When I finally made myself come…

It would feel so good, when I finally…

I wanted to…

Something was wrong. I was done edging. Or, I wanted to be; I wanted to be done edging, I wanted to cash in on all that delicious tension I had built up in my body, all the hotness of Siobhan fucking me and then making me forget. I wanted to make myself come.

But I… couldn’t.

There was no way around it. I brought myself to the very edge of orgasm, of sanity, and my fingers… stopped. I ordered them to keep going, and they stopped, even as my pussy convulsed around them, desperately seeking release. No matter how many times I tried, no matter how certain I was that this time I could break through this weird block and finally, finally come…

My treacherous fingers always stopped at the very last second, until I could have cried from frustration and arousal. What was happening to me? Half-blind with need, I staggered to my feet and opened the door to my bedroom, and–

And there was Siobhan, reclining nude on my bed, looking for all the world like a French girl waiting to be painted. She looked up as I entered and smiled widely. A predator’s smile.

I gasped and dropped to me knees. Languidly, she unfolded herself from the bed and strode forward. Nothing made sense anymore. My mind had given up, my thoughts had fled. But that was okay; I knew, instinctively, that I didn’t need to think anymore.

“That’s right,” Siobhan cooed to me as she drew my face between her legs, and I leaned forward eagerly. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Now: it’s time to finish what we started.”