Yesterday was an interesting day. Though, perhaps “bizarre”, “strange” or “unusual”, are better adjectives. NW transformed, or lost her mind, sometime during the day. Our house is still full of guests. For the first time since they arrived, however, I was not there. I had to go to work. Who would have guessed that the absence of my cock could cause such a stir.
NW and I can never tell, before the fact, whether stress will serve as a libido killer or a libido enhancer. Most people have experienced stress laying to waste their arousal. Just as I am sure that most have felt it transform into higher arousal. The past few days seemed to add a step, for NW.
Over the weekend, as her stress levels started to skyrocket, NW took to calming the torrent by retiring to the bedroom, with me, for brief intervals. At every one of these forays, she immediately went for my cock. She would stroke it, suck it, lick it, tease it and, yes, deny it. It became apparent, rather quickly, that my cock had become her Valium. The more stressed, or worn out, that she became, the more she wanted to take me back to the bedroom and relieve that stress, or simply escape it. It worked…wonderfully. And I was somewhat fond of it as well. Of course, we all know how that ended. She had worked me until the locomotive’s throttle was stuck at full and, ultimately, it couldn’t be stopped.
Onto my workday… Since I was not home yesterday, NW had no means to lessen her stress. Yes, there are a myriad ways to relieve stress. As it was, though, NW had become so attached to my cock as being her release, that she seemed incapable of finding solace elsewhere. By the end of my work day, her IMs had become frantic. Not insane, mind you. She was, however, worked up to a degree that I had never observed before, at least over IM.
When I arrived home, I realized that I had not misread this. She was as wound up as I have ever seen. This was not based solely on lust. It was want, driven to the edge by extreme stress and denial. Denial, because her not having access to the one thing she wanted, my cock, couldn’t really be called anything else. Within two or three minutes of getting home, NW had me in the bedroom, which was just as well, as I needed to change clothes.
She helped me undress, rather hastily, and hopped on the bed. She became frustrated that I wasn’t already on the bed (I was still removing clothes), crawled over and sucked my flaccid cock into her mouth as though she was starving. She began making fevered love to my cock…devouring it. It only took a moment to realize that this wasn’t about me. It was my cock that mattered. At that particular moment, that was all that mattered. She went after it in a frenzy. She seemed much more animal than horny wife. She was almost literally, possessed, with lust and want. In our ten plus years, I have never seen her like this.
As soon as I was edged, she stopped and looked up into my face. There was a ravenous, overcome look in her eyes. After a moment, she went back to it. I asked her if she wanted me to pleasure her. She was having none of it, though. She wanted my cock, and that was it.
As the edgings grew closer together and faster in arriving, she started staring at me more. Since she couldn’t lose herself in the working of my cock, she started delving into my pleasure and denial. She studied me and writhed as I groaned, moaned, felt the orgasm rise, fought against it and warned her off, as I rode the edge.
Eventually, even this wasn’t enough. So she repositioned so that I could get to her pussy, with my hand. I touched her clit and she almost set off immediately. She moaned loudly and started writhing as though on the edge herself. Within ten seconds, the first orgasm erupted. And I do mean erupted. She flooded the bed below her. I have never seen her squirt/gush on the first orgasm. I had now…and it was copious. I continued to work her even as she worked me. I warned her off a few times and finally told her to stop edging me, as I was so edged that simply grasping my cock took me right back to it.
She came again, and again, and again, at least ten of them. Every one of her orgasms was accompanied by a deluge. Can the skenes actually hold that much fluid? Whatever it was, she gushed, shook violently and released the most feral sounds, with every orgasm.
She pulled away from me and got between my legs again, returning to the cock worship and edging. Then it was over…for a few minutes.
We got dressed and returned to the main part of the house. She went into the kitchen, since she was cooking. A minute later, I went in, to grab a drink. As soon as I entered, she pushed me against the cabinet (bar type) with my back so that no one could really see (no one was in the area anyway), reached into my shorts and started working my cock again. A few minutes after that, she had me back in the bedroom.
She was insatiable and seemed in no way interested in reining herself in. Seeing her want/need, I had no intention of depriving her. Again, she attacked my cock. Again, she edged me mercilessly, completely transfixed by my reactions. Then it happened. She had edged me far too much…possibly. I warned her off, but she did not immediately withdraw. She finished her stroke, down then back up. The throttle had become stuck again. I fought it again. It came anyway. Three sequentially weaker spurts hopped out. Another ruined orgasm was given life, then abandoned and left to die from neglect.
My hands never moved towards my cock. It never crossed my mind to help it blossom into a full orgasm, as I fought it the entire way. Even when I knew that it was going to happen, I fought it to limit the emission. It did not appear that NW ever considered anything but watching it with morbid, lust filled curiosity.
NW was sad and frustrated with herself for not having stopped, when warned. Again, the fear and worry that my arousal was gone washed over her. She, sulking, left the room. Indeed, my arousal did drop, but it was not nearly as bad as she thought it would be. But she was done, at least for the night.
As I said, I have never seen her with such base, animal want. It was primal, to say the least. And it had emerged as a seemingly irresistible force. Thwarted, in her mind, by one extraneous stroke.