"You keep prompting me to scream and it won't happen," I said. "Try something a little different now: go a little quicker on the stroke, but pause a bit longer between strokes, and maybe squeeze a little harder."
She frowned at my complex instructions. "Quicker strokes...longer pauses..."
"And harder."
"Like this?" She did it perfectly, and my eyes flicked open as I gasped a little.
"Yep," I said, letting my eyes flutter closed again. "Like that."
And she kept doing it like that: with the faintest amount of increased pressure, she inched up my shaft, and then down again, provoking a ragged intake of breath each time she did. After each upstroke she'd tease the swollen, sensitive head of my cock for a little, then after the downstroke she'd tickle my balls ever so gently, which was feeling better and better as my cock slowly became more engorged, which in turn pulled my sack tight across my balls, like a drum. I was biting my lip now as she kneaded and teased my knob, and when she did that trick with my balls my whole body would snap tense as I tingled, head-to-toe, breathless with unspeakable pleasure. She was getting to me, in the same way I always got to her: she was inflicting such incredible sensations upon me in such a tender, loving fashion that I was almost being goaded into submission, my inhibitions were dissolving, and my control was gradually disappearing.
Occasionally I would open my eyes, to look into hers via the mirror. She was looking pretty pleased with herself, and when I'd look at her she'd look back with a cheeky little grin of triumph; I'd shake my head, but I couldn't keep myself from matching that infectious grin of hers.
My pleasure, which was building up with each stroke and tickle, was starting to grow faster, to increase a little bit more each time than the last. I had long since passed the point where, had I been doing this alone, I would have lost patience and beat myself into a climax; at this slow-and-steady pace my pleasure could build up without limits, keep bottling up without exploding. It's a curious ability I have, to be able to keep doubling my pleasure without release if manipulated at this speed and with this style, and I don't know if it's unique to me or common to all guys; all I know is that I don't often build myself up too far, simply because I become too impatient for the orgasm and I can't hold myself back very long. But here, she was in control; she was pulling the strings and running the show, and all I could do was get a firm grip on the bathroom sink and hang on tight.
I was breathing very raggedly now; my breath was catching a little in my throat on every other breath, and when she tickled my balls my entire being tingled with electricity, and I gaped in a silent, strangled gasp of exquisite pleasure. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned at the never-before-seen state I was in.
"Oh yeah," I assured her, somewhat tremulously.
"You seem to need this orgasm pretty bad..." she observed. "Should I just beat it out of you?"
"No," I said, firmly. "If I come now, I won't scream; you'll probably only get a few grunts and a squeak. You have to keep doing exactly what you're doing, at this exact pace and this exact style, until I'm a quivering mess - an absolutely out-of-control, uninhibited beast. You got me?"
"I got you," she nodded, knowingly. And onwards we went together, as she continued to stroke, knead, stroke, tickle, and repeat; and I held on to the sink for a bit of balance, and braced against her naked body for a bit more. I revelled in every aspect of the situation: her hands lovingly caressing my growing member, her breasts soft as they squished against my back, her nipples hard and erect - betraying her arousal - and digging little indentations into my shoulders, the soft curve of her cute little tummy nestled up against the small of my back, and her furry little strip of pubic hair tickling my buttocks. She was such a sexy bit of gear, and her proximity heightened my enjoyment.
My pleasure was increasing faster still, each stroke feeling better than the last, and each gentle caress of my tingling scrotum now provoking a whispered sigh. It was starting to build a little too fast now, and I was worried I would suddenly come before I truly lost control. "We need to slow down," I said, breathing hard. "Slightly longer pauses between strokes, and perhaps a bit less of that funky stuff you're doing as well."
"What, don't you like it?" she said, looking a little dismayed.
"No no, I love it," I promised her, reaching back to caress her cheek reassuringly. "I love it too much, that's the problem; a bit of it every now and again, say between every other stroke, is good; but too much will push me over the edge before I truly go wild."
"Ah, I see," she said, and with a wicked little smile she changed her technique accordingly.
It wasn't long before we were back in the zone, as she settled into her new rhythm and I got back on the boil. My muscles were beginning to tighten involuntarily, across my shoulders, my chest and my abdomen. Every now and again a little moan would escape my mouth, but I was caring less and less each time. She freed up a hand to run it over my shoulders and across my chest in a reassuring fashion; I wanted to reach back and pull her even closer, and perhaps reach down and return the favour for a bit, but I seriously had to keep a hold of the sink for fear of swooning with pleasure. In retrospect, while it would have been nice to pleasure her while she was pleasuring me, it turned out well enough even though I didn't; we were focussed entirely upon my gratification, searching for that elusive scream, and we wanted no distractions.
Things were still building up for me, not as disastrously quickly as before, but still in that same gradual yet exponential fashion. My breathing was truly ragged now, coming and going in very shaky inhalations and exhalations; my moaning came louder and more often, and I couldn't have stopped it even if I had wanted to. I tipped my head back to rest my ear against hers, and she responded by squeezing herself even harder against me as her hands continued moving expertly up and down my throbbing erection.
Very suddenly, things took a dramatic turn; the pleasure had been building up fairly slowly, gradually becoming better and better, but now things were rising sharply. My mouth opened, and new noises started coming out: I was belting out a short, surprised "Oh..." with each stroke. She was starting to go harder now, with quicker strokes and less of a pause in between, but I made her slow down: "Not yet," I said, between gasps. "Keep to the beat, don't go faster yet."
"My god," she said. "Look at yourself, will you?"
I frowned, thinking she was going to pay me out about whatever faces of enjoyment I may have been pulling, but then I realised she was referring to my girth. I did look at myself, and boggled a little: I hardly recognised the thing, it was longer and harder and more swollen than I had ever seen before. "Well hello," I said. "There's a new personal best." I had an idea. "Whaddaya say, love: wanna get it in ya?"
"Ooh, it's tempting," she said, with a small grin, "but I'm on a roll here: I wanna see how this turns out."
"Suit yourself," I shrugged; I would have been just as happy either way, it was her choice. Onwards she went, and better and better it felt; I tried to keep my mouth closed, but I couldn't stop myself from making more noises: there was a muffled "mmm..." with each stroke, and a sharp intake of breath through my nose every time she caressed my sack. But it just kept getting better and better, each stroke sending waves of tingling pleasure across my skin and through my innards, and there was no way to help it; I was gasping now, moaning softly with each gasp, clinging desperately to the sink for balance. Physically, I maintained a tight grip on the sink, but metaphorically I had lost a grip on my self-control; my inhibitions, my embarrassment, my civility were slipping, almost completely stripped away in the face of her onslaught. I knew, and she knew, that she was gaining control over me; and what I had not expected was that I was enjoying it. I was glad to be under this amazing, intoxicating spell, and I really, really wanted her to drive me wild and make me lose control.
"Having fun, dear?" she asked, with an enormously naughty grin.
"Oh god yes," I gasped, as the pleasure became almost unbearable. "Oh," I added. "Oh!" I said again. "I think I'm just about ready."
"Do you?"
I gritted my teeth, letting loose with a tortured groan of exquisite sexual gratification. "Uh huh," I said. "You can finish me off now..."
"Nuh uh," she said, shaking her head as she kept wanking, slowly, purposefully, fantastically.
"Aw come on, love," I said, pleadingly, "I don't think I can stand much more of this... oohh... it's so exquisitely good, I can't stand it... oh!... honestly, hun, it's almost agony... ugh!"
"That's right: time for a taste of your own medicine," she beamed viciously - and she started stroking me slower, the way we had started out, and it was driving me bonkers. The slower she went, the better - and worse - it felt. "You do this to me every time," she accused. "EVERY time! You push me so far beyond what I can take, you just keep going and going until I've screamed myself hoarse, every time - and you LOVE it."
