My cunt was dripping for him but he teased me, tracing his fingers along my thickened wet lips over the lace of my black panties, I begged for him to enter me, to fuck me with his long thick fingers until I came, yet he didn't.I reached down, feeling for the bulge that would be chafing against his tight black jeans, my palm cupped the heavy weight, rubbing up and down so I could feel his thickness grow at my touch, his mouth dropping passed my forehead where it had been rested to my lips, as I bit him with wanting he withdrew, demanding I wait, demanding a patience I didn't have. During the taxi drive home I was aching to be entered, I could smell the sex on myself, and so could he. I removed my thong with a gentle grace which was almost beyond me, and as I leant in to embrace him I paused my hand under his nose for a little longer than neccesary, I wanted him to smell me, be ready for how much I needed this fuck. His gaze met mine for the first time since the bar, he began to kiss. The feelings I wasgetting from the dildo were smoothly satisfying, warming up my crotchand leading me to a strange lightness. The feelings I got from my fingerwere entirely different, focussed and intense, exactly like playing withyourself should be. And it was unstoppable. As I stroked my fingerfaster across the hard button that pumped up from my pelvic bone thesensations built up into a gasping climax. Eagerly I thrust the dildoinside me, and my hips up to grab it as I bucked with waves of pleasure.As I came down I still felt high, and I was fascinated by my hips movingunder the control of my hands and not my brain. I kept stroking myfinger and my body bucked, though the sensation was fading. As it did somy clitoris became more sensitive, almost unbearably, and I took myfinger away as it protested. I left the dildo and lay back, feeling fulland happy. I remember feeling guilty about masturbation once, but thosefeelings were gone. I was just happy.I woke in the middle of the night.
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