True Sex Stories: My Orgasm Was Huge And He Kept Going

He used the Magic Wand on me. Gently, on the Low rumbly setting? No, no, no – that would never do. He put it straight onto my clit, on High.

We had been talking about going for a walk in the brilliant sunshine, but in the process of getting ready I had to get undressed and he began feeling me up: massaging my breasts, fingering between my legs, his hand in my hair making me kneel or squat, and a few playful slaps on my ass.

I ended up in a most interesting position: bending forwards with my head locked between his thighs, which gave him easy access for swatting my ass some more. His resulting hard-on was impressive.

"I don't think we're going for a walk now."

Really? Cool!

I had been horny for days. A furious pace of work (and other commitments) had kept me from doing much about it, so I'd been simmering. It'd meant that I had been wet almost constantly. Being a sadist and all, James had enjoyed teasing me and today was no exception.

After our warmup in the bedroom we were off to the Black Room. I lay on the bed and absorbed the sunshine streaming in through the window. Then he sat down next to me and started to gently pat my body – my tummy, breasts and thighs. I wriggled and squealed.

I started to wonder what we could do that would compare to our best fuck ever last week, but I realised that that was a stupid head space and I deliberately switched to just being open.

He leaned in to whisper "Turn over." When I had settled myself he put his lips next to my ear and said "Say thank you when I hit you."

I normally have a ‘fuck you' reaction about then: I tend to automatically try to balance out the psychology that this invokes. This means that when I say "Thank you" for something I am not thankful for, I internally shout I AM NOT THANKFUL, FUCK YOU – and other things to that effect. It means that whatever I say out loud, inwardly I am fully in control. It means that I have great resistance to being moulded.

I expressed my trust by not doing that. I expressed my trust by saying it and finding that the feeling was fully expressed, regardless of the way the words came out: tiny "Thank you Sir," breathy "Thank YOU Sir," squeaky "Thank you SIR", growly "THANK you Sir," an intense stare with "Thank you fucking Sir," and an angry "THANK YOU FUCKER SIR". They all perfectly conveyed where I was at. With every swat and every response I had the choice whether to move or not. I chose to stay put. I wanted to find out what would happen next, where the scene would go.

"Turn over."

Balance. It is all about balance. My front was almost untouched; my poor breasts, belly and pussy were all neglected in comparison to my warm and tenderised ass. James was ready to correct this, and began with clear instructions: "Put your hands over your head on the bed frame, with your legs apart, knees down."

Being able to anticipate things can be a shit sometimes, because my own mind-fucking is more potent than anything that anyone else can do. I knew he was going to slap my pussy. I could see the view in the mirror; I could see him laying his hand across my labia as he lined up that perfect smack.

He has control. I don't. Being a good girl and staying in position meant that he could deliver exactly what he intended: a pat with bit of sting but right on my clit. But my own head-fuck would hardly let me stay still. He wasn't doing that much yet, but my overreaction let him know that my mind was more sensitive than my body to what he was doing.

He took advantage of my tightened stomach muscles to slap me on my belly and on my breasts. My reaction was a "RAWR" – but nothing that indicated ‘stop'. It was hot. When he did this I wanted more and I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to feel his stiff cock shoving into my cunt right now.

He had his own agenda, of course.

He used the Magic Wand on me. Gently, on the Low rumbly setting? No, no, no – that would never do. He put it straight onto my clit, on High. I tried to keep my hands above my head. I tried not to squeeze my thighs together. I tried to stay still.

I lost it completely. I grabbed the Magic Wand and tried to push it off my clit. I yelled "No!" (But of course ‘no' is not a safeword.)

Eventually I got hold of my reactions and laid myself back down; he repositioned the Magic Wand and started again. I felt myself fighting the orgasm. He knew I was. What we both know is that if I do this and he pushes, eventually I come anyway, and then I come and come and come.

I began to tip over into orgasm, but then the fucker turned off the Magic Wand and looked me in the eyes with complete control. Bastard, I love you and I want to fucking come. I wanted to rage and smack him. I wanted to grab the Magic Wand off him and come right now. But I didn't. In that moment there was my submission to his control of our sex. He took that tension and turned it into something more.

"Put your hands over your head, with your legs apart, knees down."

I was torn. My love/hate relationship with pussy slapping raged: the fear of the pain versus the desire for the intense arousal that follows. The fear was beginning to win out when he said "Three slaps and then you can come." I am the sort of person who, if I know what I'm facing, will push through almost anything. Three pussy slaps can done with all kinds of different levels of intensity, but he was kind: they were fairly light and, most importantly, quick.

Then he switched back to the intensity of the wand. It was still on High and it made me wriggle madly, and within two minutes I felt the orgasm coming on. It was huge, just like I had anticipated.

What I can never, ever do to myself is keep going through an orgasm. When I come like that on my own then that's it. But with James that orgasm is just the beginning: he keeps going and I come again. A small respite and I come again. And again.

"Pleeeease stop."

"No. Three more pussy slaps or I keep going."

Fucker! "No!" is my reply. I know if we keep going at this intensity then I will just go numb. Bwuahaha!

He kept going. I started going numb. Then he pulled it off and slapped my pussy anyway. I thought we would be fucking shortly, but no. Let's press Iona's clit and rub it hard without making her come. After about twenty seconds of that I was begging to fuck!

And fuck we did. But the gorgeous day is begging to be enjoyed and we are finally off for that walk we started to go on earlier. I'll just have to write the rest another time…

Republished with permission from SapioSlut. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo courtesy of Fucking Machines.