My favourite game

It is Mastubation May, and given the point I had arrived at in my story this seems an appropriate place to pick up again.

So I had moved house, away from any contacts I had made through fab. I was single again and Sir was a fond memory. Settling the boys into their new life and finding my way at work was too time consuming to consider hunting for a local playmate, especially as I had no childcare yet and was using my spare time in other ways.

So what is a girl to do when she has found her sex drive?

Make the most of her toy collection, that’s what! This collection has grown considerably over the last 5-6 years, from the rampant rabbit and fingers that I used when I first met Sir, to an array of insertables and vibrating additions. My primary play partner of the last 4 years or so has been my Doxy. Powerful vibrations with a depth unmatched elsewhere in my drawers of filth, and it hits the spot quite nicely. While watching porn or reading erotica are both incredible ways of getting in touch with myself, my imagination can often get me into all kinds of trouble. Especially when I am craving something more.

This was one such occasion.

I would say I needed permission, but as all restrictions had been lifted prior to Sirs departure I can only say I wanted it. In my fevered pre-orgasmic haze he was there, sitting on the edge of my bed, watching. Just like when he would “visit” me in my marital bed, during those final months, striding into the room and filling it with his presence, albeit in my mind. Only now he was here, watching with burning eyes as I worked myself into a fervour, cringing internally as he asked for more.

He wants to see His brazen slut writhe under the pressure as the wand vibrates through my core.

I ask permission. The words burble from my lips.

But there is no response.

I ease off, lower the setting to level 3 and reduce the pressure. Now sweeping the head over my closed and swollen lips and mound. Not pushing deeper to reach my apex, just enjoying the gentle flow of pleasure.

More N. He wants more…

He wants His wanton minx to dissolve into the sheets I cling so tightly to as the sensations glow, brighter now, I’m increasing to level 8 as I part my lips and press the head against my swollen, aching clit. Lips clinging to the vibrating mass which is passionately and relentlessly hammering me into submission. As the approaching wave threatens to crash over me I ask again.

This time “Please?”

No answer

“Please can I cum?”

No answer.

“PLEASE??”

It’s more of a wail this time but still there is no permission given.

I snatch the tormentor from between my legs and lay panting while the orgasm that was a moment away from crashing over me ebbs away, taking the pain of a lost eruption with it.

It is almost time to leave the house for the school run…. One more time…

This time I’m sure permission will be granted.

I can feel him move closer, his breath on my cheek as I start to build once more.

Or is it the breeze from my open window? I don’t know anymore, I’m so lost in the waves of desire. Joy, lust and sensation make the perfect storm and I’m lost at sea.

My tongue smacks my dry lips and I hear the words, rasping against my throat this time:

Please Sir, please may I cum?

But instead of the “Yes” I am so desperate to hear my ears are greeted with the obnoxious alarm on my phone.

A guttural moan escapes my body. No Yes, and no time to try again.

Hastily I clean up and dash out of the door. Back to being mum again.

A dishevelled but glowing Jezebel. Eyes ablaze with frustration.

I think I found My Favourite Game