People Who Knead People

As I massaged her lower back yet again, she raised up on her knees slightly and began rubbing herself against the table, finding some relief in the pressure from a crumpled towel beneath her. I don't think her proper southern upbringing had left much room for masturbation, and she'd been away from her husband for many months. My cock was rock hard and badly wanted to feel her warm pussy around it, to thrust in and out to give us the orgasmic relief our bodies were clearly begging for.

This was the point where I expected her to beg me to fuck her, beg me to bring her relief. It's what I had dreamed of, and what always seems to happen in erotic stories and movies. But, by now I had come to realize that Karylou would not, could not, succumb to that. She was going to play her little game to the end. No matter that her body was betraying her facade, despite that she must have been in agony wanting that nudge that was going to push her over the edge, she was not going to admit that it was what she wanted.

And after months of frustration myself, I wasn't about to take any pity. She'd played this game for too long, and to know that all this time, this is what she'd really wanted, but could not admit it, maybe not even to herself, was all the more reason to play this for all it was worth.

She was continuing to rub herself against the now balled-up towel when I abruptly pulled it away, I could almost hear her hips groan with disappointment. I felt like the Grinch taking the last ornament from little Karylou Who. She stayed on her knees still thrusting her hips, literally fucking the air as if somehow that would provide some relief.

The sight of her engorged bare pussy was truly a sight to behold. I couldn't help but stare in amazement, the outer lips completely peeled away, the inner still growing wider, and her sweet juices continuing to flow. But dripping slowly, clinging to her lips, a web of liquid strands, stretching, breaking, reappearing, and ever so slowly rolling down her thighs, eventually pooling on the bare surface of the massage table.

I moved down to her feet and pulled her ankles so that her hips fell flat against the table, her knees no longer able to lift and grind. Keeping her legs extended, I knelt in between her legs, and began massaging her calves, teasing the backs of her knees, knowing they had to be quite sensitive at the moment. I added a small mechanical vibrator that attached to the back of my hand and made my hands become a deliverer of thousands of tiny tingles per second. I kept it on low-medium speed, or tease as we often called it in massage classes. Enough to get the feeling across, but not enough to provide any true relief. This can be pretty intense under normal conditions, now it had to be near unbearable.

I again moved up her thighs, her legs spreading more as I got near, just begging me to come closer, still she remained silent. As I moved upward to her buttocks I'd let my thumbs graze her labia, a shiver going through her each time I did. I knew that in her state, I could now make her cum just by sliding a vibrating thumb toward her clit and holding it there. Instead I massaged her lower buttocks, leaving my thumbs on her inner thigh just millimeters from her widestretched labia.

I could tell she was reaching that delicate edge between continued arousal and an explosion of orgasmic relief. I intended to keep her on that edge as long as I possibly could. I would increase the pressure, allowing her to get closer to the point of no return, and then I would ease off, bringing her back from the edge. I was totally engrossed and focused, ignoring my own cock's insistence for relief.

Her hands struggled and pulled against her binds, her body was begging me to go further, but other than a continuous low moaning, she remained silent. She tried to adjust her legs to get more relief, but I had them held in position, so all she could do is let the shivers roll through her body, one after another, like waves in an ocean. I could see that they were building and could tell that even without touching her pussy, the vibrations alone were going to be enough to make her come.

And just then, without any warning, I stopped completely. I turned off the vibrator and left the table for several minutes. Her frustration was palpable. The air was so thick with her wonderful smell you would think there were 50 women in the room. I desperately wanted to fuck her, but I was consumed with making her feel the frustration I'd been feeling every night we were together.

I knew that by now her senses were so on edge that a touch anywhere would feel like a touch everywhere. I returned with a little trick I'd learned from a gay friend in our massage class who was quite adept at erotic massage and who had a large male clientele. Not only did I now have vibrators on both hands, but also specially made flat vibrators embedded in towels that I placed over and under her thighs and calves and buttocks.

As I slowly moved myself in position and turned them on one by one, the sound mingling as one, she must have felt like 50 hands were on her. I replaced the towel between her legs so she'd have something to grind on. Strategically placed in this towel, was a wonderful new multi-faceted vibrating dildo that I slowly inserted in her vagina as I massaged away elsewhere. She was so overwhelmed with sensations that I don't think she fully realized that she was now filled until it had already been in place for 15 seconds. I had carefully positioned it so that it was firmly held in place deeply inside her, the tip rubbing against her vagina wall right about the point of her sensitive g-spot.

I pulled her legs straight out and tied her ankles tightly to the legs of the massage table. Because her legs were fully extended, she was no longer able to grind her hips against the table. She would just have to depend on the vibe's natural motion and the grip of her internal muscles to give her relief. She was now pulling hard against her bindings, trying to create even just a bit of space to allow her to thrust her hips against the vibrator.

I resumed massaging her ass cheeks, the manual manipulation of my hands helping to move the vibrator within her. She was ready to come, but because there was still limited thrust and her lonely clit was being completely ignored, this was going to continue to build and build for some time. The long period of slow stimulation is especially effective on the g-spot, and some women don't think they even have one because they've never had the proper kind of stimulation. She was moaning and mumbling "Don't stop." This time it was very clear what she meant, and I didn't dare stop now. In her state I might near have killed her if I did.

As I continued to manipulate her buttocks, I could see small spasms start to roll through her body. It was amazing to watch this tantric orgasm grow; first small trembles from her toes and fingers, slowly working their way inward, growing into larger and larger spasms. I could hear the table groan as she pulled harder against her bindings. Soon her thighs and shoulders were consumed, the spasms continuing to move slowly and becoming more intense until they finally reached her groin as she bucked hard against the table, her ass vibrating up and down like a paint shaker. If it weren't for the bindings, I think she might have bucked clean off the table.

She bit hard into the towel she was lying on - she was not going to give me the satisfaction of hearing her orgasm, but I could still hear the well muffled screams of pleasure loud and clear. (Later I'd find that she'd bitten clean through a thick triple weight Turkish towel).

Her spasms went on for what seemed like minutes, until she calmed down to a low rumble, and I slowly turned down all of the vibrators to a very low setting and let her lie like that, basking in the glory for another minute before turning them off. As I slowly removed all of the towels, and slowly slipped the dildo from her, it made a large audible slurping sound. In the silence, I could now hear her light breathing and what sounded like a light snore. She was worn out and actually napping with contentment.

I moved down to untie her ankles and massage some life back into where the bindings had been. I had purposely chosen very soft ties, but even so, I was a little surprised at how red her ankles had become where the cords had been. Given that, I was rather concerned with the condition of her wrists, and I walked around to unbind her hands.

But, even while napping, Karylou had managed to surprise me. The bindings were not around her wrists, but rather held loosely in her hands. Her wrists showed absolutely no signs of redness, she clearly had slipped out of her bindings from the start while her hands were covered. Her hands were free the entire time, all of that struggling had been entirely for show! I still don't know if the show was for my benefit or hers. But it was clear that she enjoyed playing the innocent victim more than I had ever suspected.

In her half-sleepy state, I helped her roll over onto her back. She had to be sore from all of that time lying on her stomach. I continued gently rubbing her hands, all the time staring at her naked body, revealed before me for the very first time. I could feel my erect cock quiver at the sight of her like that, her arms over her head, her legs slightly spread, revealing her cleanly shaven, rather disheveled pussy. And her breasts, after all of this time, after all of the dreams I'd had of them, here they were in all their glory. Incredibly firm, perfect round mounds with half-dollar sized dark areolae, each centered with a small eraser shaped erect nipple.

I was thinking about how good it was going to feel to have my cock inside that pussy, to feel those breasts rub against my chest as I kissed her for the very first time. She looked so beautiful like that, a rather perverted version of Sleeping Beauty. My cock was literally leaping out of my shorts, still rock hard as it had been from the very moment she lay down on the table and I badly wanted relief, to live out my fantasies of ravaging her tender body.

Wrapped in thought, I barely realized that she had stirred and lifted herself on her elbows, moving herself up so that her head was now just barely leaning off the head of the table, her eyes looking directly at my thin shorts which did little to hide the outline of my iron hard cock. I was still holding her hands in mine, when without acknowledging the cock that was inches from her face, she spoke in an incredibly calm voice.

"Thanks for a wonderful massage. I must have dozed off. You wouldn't believe the strange dream I just had"

There it was. It suddenly dawned on me that she was going to pretend this never happened, that it was all a dream! Here I thought I'd finally gotten the best of her and she was going to trump me yet again, and even worse, leave me with an erection that I suspected might last well into winter. I had dreamed of this putting us into normalcy and that she'd acknowledge the yearning we both had, and here she was going to keep playing the charade. This was taking the southern belle routine way too far. It was clear that she too had been waiting for this moment, had wanted this to happen, had enjoyed it immensely. And now she was going to pretend it was all a dream? I was torn between anger and awe that she could still be so cool and collected. I was flabbergasted, I wanted to say something, but just couldn't find any words.

And right then, as I struggled with my emotions, and she seemed poised to hop off the table to get dressed, she cooed to me in her very best innocent southern accent, "Please, please, Blair Fawkes. Throw me in the briar patch if you want, but please, please whatever you do, please don't hold me down and make me suck that big, hard luscious cock you keep hiding from me."