The Quean of Wales

“Now I’m going to cum. You’re going to help. Lick. And remember what I showed you before.” I got to work, much more confidently this time, she tasted so much better than Paul ever could. 

"You're holding your breath," CJ whispered after a few minutes. "Don't. Breathe into me." 

I breathed out and in again, deeply, air rushing into my lungs and making my head spin a little. I was hyper-aware of the scent of CJ’s pussy, my ears picking up the lust in every word CJ said. Everything else was sort of unfocused, fading into the background, just my senses of the immediate remaining.  

I changed my focus, entirely, on the wet heat of CJ's clitoris against my tongue.   

I felt CJs fingers tighten in my hair, making the butterflies in my tummy dance. She tensed and arched her back, lifting her hips from the sofa and offering her cunt to me. 

"Flatten your tongue," she whispered, her voice strained. "Don't just poke at it. Press. Broad, flat strokes. From the bottom up." 

I obeyed, lapping upward in a slow, deliberate motion. A surge of affection hit me, and I desperately needed to please, and to memorize how to do this again. The rushing made me feel like my heart was almost in sync with the pulsing between her legs. 

In the periphery of my vision, I could see the silhouette of my husband lazing on the bed, muzzily enjoying the show through a blanket of whisky and orgasm induced drowsiness.  

A show he hadn’t realised he was no longer a part of. CJ didn't look at him at all; she didn't seem to know he existed. Her focus was entirely on the woman on her knees in front of her. 

On me. 

After a few minutes of worshiping CJ’s delightful cunt I felt a wave of rolling pleasure crash over me, a vibration that started in my toes and ended in my chest. I'd been riding the edge for hours, the ecstasy was keeping me there. I was so fucking close to an orgasm, all I needed to do was touch myself a little, and I’d be there. I rubbed while keeping most of my attention focused between CJs legs. I rubbed some more, over and over again, I was absolutely soaked, my clit was hard and it felt delicious, but no matter what I did I couldn’t get any closer to an orgasm. Waves of dizzying pleasure rolled over me every time I tried, but they weren’t orgasms, it just wasn’t happening. 

I giggled to myself , realising CJ was still giving me gentle instructions. I kept my hand between my legs but let my mouth do as my lover told me. I knew CJ could feel the tension in my body—the tingling energy of a woman starving for a release that wouldn't come. She could tell just how desperate I was, but her whispers had directed my focus back to her. 

"You're shaking," CJ murmured, a knowing smile touching her lips. "You want to fall." 

I moaned against CJ's skin and redoubled my efforts. I wanted to fall. To crash and burn for this woman. As CJ's thighs began to quiver, her hips thrust instinctively, pushing deeper into my mouth. I leaned into it, savouring the taste and heat that was my entire right now.  

"Right there," CJ gasped. "Right there. Don't stop. Don't you fucking dare change the rhythm!" 

And with that order I became a creature of pure sensation. Suddenly, CJ's pelvic muscles contracted violently. The first orgasm hit like a bolt of lightning, followed by a long, shuddering release. CJ's body went rigid, her fingers digging into my scalp. I could feel the vibrations of the climax as CJ clamped her thighs around my head. I stayed put, continuing the gentle sucking motions even as CJ drifted in the afterglow, thrilled I’d given CJ such a huge orgasm and wanting to taste the residue of something my own body was completely incapable of at the moment.  

CJ collapsed back against the pillows, her skin flushed. She kept her hands resting lightly on my hair. 

"You're a natural," CJ whispered, her voice husky. "You treated that like a prayer." 

My affection for her in that moment was something visceral. On the bed, Paul appeared to be alternating between drinking whisky with one hand and enjoying his exclusive girl-girl porn show with the other.  

CJ didn't glance toward him. She looked at me, and I knew she could see the lust in my eyes, in the smile on my face and my intense, dilated gaze. She knew how desperate I was. 

"You're still humming, aren't you?" CJ asked. "I can feel it."  

I nodded weakly. I was humping the air trying desperately for an orgasm I knew I wasn’t capable of. 

CJ smiled. She tilted my face upward. "I can see how much you want to break.". I did. Into a million tiny, tingling pieces. 

She guided me back down with a firm grip. "Now, use the tip of your tongue. Circular motions. Fast, then slow. Like you're tracing a circle." 

I obeyed, forgetting Paul instantly, trying to make my movements precise through the serotonin haze that came over me when she ordered me back down. I felt my denied, incapable pussy clenching in a rhythmic pulse, the peak of the wave curling over me. So close. I wanted the world to vanish, leaving nothing but my desire for this woman, her scent and taste, and the impossible ache between my legs. 

CJ let out a sharp gasp. The second orgasm came faster, she really liked what she'd told me to do this time. Her legs clamped around my shoulders. 

 "Yes, right there! God you’re good but don't move!" I kept doing exactly what I was doing, the praise making my head roll again. 

CJ's body spasmed. She made a low, guttural sound, pulling her legs towards her so her knees were almost around her head. Another massive wave rolled over me as I delighted in the intensity of her release, doing my best to keep my tongue continuing its circular movement until the last spark of her orgasm faded. 

As CJ relaxed back into the sofa, she held me in place, almost a loving embrace but more forceful. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by our ragged breathing. 

"You’re very good at this" she whispered. "You’re hungry. You're starving, aren't you, Sarah?" 

The use of my name made me shiver. I looked up at her with dilated pupils and nodded with a stupid grin on my face. CJ's hand slid down to my throat—she wasn’t squeezing, but it did remind me I was going to keep doing exactly what she wanted.  

"But we aren't finished with your education," CJ murmured. "I'm not going to let you cum. Not yet. I want you to carry this need for me around like a secret. I want you to think about this moment when you're lying in bed next to him." 

Behind us, on the bed, Paul's breathing had slowed. He had fallen asleep, spent cock in hand and empty whisky glass on the sideboard. I knew CJ didn't want him gone, not yet, but I also knew his unconsciousness would remove any qualms she had about possessing me entirely. I suspect she never imagined things would go quite this well. I had long since stopped caring about anything other than the pleasure the combination of this woman and the ecstasy were giving me. 

CJ wasn’t unkind and neither of us had set out to turn me into this... creature, this evening, but she was also a creature possessed by her own desires, and though neither of us knew the other’s deeper secrets at this point, she was as addicted to the pleasure of sex as I was to the pleasure of orgasm denial. A perfect erotic partnership.  

She pulled me towards her, helping me up onto the sofa, onto her lap, my spread legs dangling off the side, giving her enthusiastic access to anything she wanted. 

She used the side of her thumb to apply a broad, heavy pressure against my swollen clit. I heard myself let out a sound that was more a broken prayer than a moan. The pressure reminding me how desperate I was. I couldn’t stop myself from pushing my hips up to meet her thumb, “Please...” I murmured pathetically, I knew I wasn’t going to cum but that didn’t stop me from wanting it so, so badly.  

"Stop fighting it," she whispered. "Lean into the hunger." As she said this she kept her thumb pressing down on my clit but slipped several fingers inside me as well, curling them upwards expertly, slowly at first before increasing the speed and the pressure, her other hand holding the back of my neck, then turning my head to make it easier to kiss under my chin, my cheeks, my lips, delicate little kisses, each sending a jolt of electricity through me, and finally, finally, my mouth, I hadn’t even noticed I’d opened it until her tongue did something similar to what her fingers were doing between my legs. 

I couldn’t stop my hips from bucking and it made the sofa rock slightly, I was trembling, desperate for release and with a sudden squeal I squirted, hot wet liquid spraying out over her expert fingers, moaning as she flicked her fingers in just the right spot. It wasn’t an orgasm in the normal sense, but I was immediately overcome again by a massive rolling wave of euphoria, which caused my entire body to shudder gently but incredibly pleasurably as a long, soft ‘fucccckkkkkkk’ escaped from me into CJs mouth as we kissed.  

She pulled me into a tight, embrace, using one hand to maintain a fluttering, teasing contact with the centre of my pleasure. My hips kept rolling with the contact, the mess I was making had slowed to a trickle but she was still coaxing it out of me, each little leak accompanied by a moan and another little rush, exquisite but not the big explosion I wanted so desperately. My whole being wanted that explosion, my rational mind knew it was impossible at the moment, that I had to save it, but I could only save it for her. 

"You feel that?" CJ murmured. "That's the realization that you never want this to end. Don't move, just feel the hunger. Don't try to change it." 

I leaned into the frustration. I'd broken myself. My self-denial had become a physical impossibility thanks to the ecstasy, but the desire to orgasm was stronger - much stronger - than it had ever been in my life, partially because of the ecstasy but largely because of this woman I’d only just met. This woman I had thought to treat my husband to a threesome with. This woman whose lap I now lay on, who had her fingers deep in my cunt and her lips on my mouth, and her desire for me so deeply hooked into my fragile consciousness I couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything else.  
 
The denial, the lust, the euphoria, became a form of intimacy far more profound than anything I had ever experienced with Paul or anyone else I had ever been with. 

CJ began to trail her nails up my sides in undulating waves, mapping my curves. Every touch was a promise followed by a deliberate withdrawal and I moaned at each languid touch. 

"Patience, babe," She whispered. "This hunger...this intensity..." 

She kissed me deeply—a kiss of ownership - and then she gradually brought me down from the peak over what felt like an eternity of intimacy, kissing and touching me increasingly slowly and gently, replacing the drug-induced intensity with a slow-burning psychological hunger I didn't think I would ever be able to shake off. 

CJ finally broke the kiss and stroked my hair, whispering "You feel the space where the fire was? That emptiness... that's where you belong now. Not in the release, but in the longing.” 

“In the need for me and what I can give you that nobody else can.” 

“Nobody else Sarah." 

“Nobody else” I moaned, it felt like a confession. Years of self-denial, a need I couldn’t articulate, the way I kept myself almost permanently aroused, and I was slowly realising it all might have been leading to this, to CJ, to someone who understood my needs so profoundly. 

I knew I was addicted to the pleasure of denial, I had been for a long time, but now I had someone who understood that addiction, understood me.  CJ was my next addiction.