The good mood lasted over the night. The energy I had felt on the even before did not. I was tired when I woke up. I could remember waking up several times throughout the night. I could not remember my dreams, but every single time I had woken up, it was to the same sensation of arousal coursing through my body. Of course, I had slept naked again. And there was a wet patch on the bed sheets below my pussy. And damn it was a big one. I wondered whether he had meant that I was allowed to masturbate whenever I wanted to, or only that one time. Would it be okay if I gave my clit a few of those rubs it begged for? And would it make my situation more or less bearable? Anyway, I wanted to ask him before I did it. With a sigh, I got out of my bed, to take the bed sheets off and put them into the laundry machine. With the way I coated both my slips and apparently the bed sheets in my juices, I would have to do a lot of laundry this week. Then I halted. Reattaching the bed sheets again. I took a picture and sent it to him. “This is what I wake up to, already after 3 days. What are you doing to me?”. The answer came while I turned on the laundry. “What a nice sign of your arousal! But next time, why not a picture directly of the source?” Ha, he could wait a long time for that. I did not like pictures that where too explicit. It was only when I stepped into the bathroom for a shower, that I realized that I was still naked. Had I been running around the flat naked for 15 minutes, without even realizing? I guess some of my neighbors might have sneaked in quite the nice view. I turned towards the mirror on the wall. Oh yes, quite the nice view indeed. Somehow, I felt prouder about my body than I had felt before all of this started. It was a good girl, staring back at me through the glass. And that was… rather obvious. I had calmed down a bit since waking up. My cheeks where not puffy, and my breath was going normal. But my nipples still pointed at their reflection, proud and tall. And the wetness that was visible on the upper end of my thighs, partly dried and partly wet and warm, was an obvious sign of my constant arousal throughout the night. And yet I got annoyed. I could not see all of it. There was too much hair in the way. I usually kept my hair neatly trimmed, but apparently I had forgotten that in a while. And it blocked my view on the area that would show my arousal the most. Well, maybe after my hard nipples. I got out my scissors, deciding to trim again. But after a few cuts, when the first results were visible, it simply did not feel like enough. I had never shaved down there. Not because I believed it was wrong, or sinful, or such nonsense. Just because I thought it looked a bit more proper and definitely more adult, with a bit of hair left. In a sudden decision, I decided to change that today. I only had one issue. Was I sure he would like it? Didn’t all men? He sometimes used to run his fingers through the hair, combing it gently, especially when it was a bit longer. Maybe he liked it? I decided to ask him “Would you like me better shaved?“ I felt the need to clarify. “Down there I mean”. “I am sure your bare pussy would look very tasty”. Now that gave me an instant answer. And a jolt of arousal that made my hips buck. Imagining him eating me out, tasting my juices… How I longed for it. I imagined his fingers gliding over my smooth skin, his eyes transfixed on my open and visible pussy, no hair in the way. I had to sit down on the toilet, as my feet threatened to give way. It was such a daunting vision, playing itself out in my imagination.I cut some more of my hair away with the scissors, before I got up to get the shaving cream and the razor. While I spread the shaving cream I could not avoid touching my pussy every now and then. Not that I tried too hard. Every touch felt good, and the wetness running down my slit was surprising every time anew. But when I set down the razor on my skin for the first time, I felt a light panic driving my arousal away. Would a cut hurt very much down there? Slowly and carefully, I let it slide down once, then twice, then more. No cuts happened, and I started to relax. In the end I pulled my lips apart, and let the razor even glide of the outer folds of my pussy. The challenge there was not the shaving, it was getting a firm grip on my wet and slippery lips. Finally done, I stepped into the shower, to wash the remaining foam off. If felt good when I held the showerhead a bit over my pussy, and felt the water splash against it and run down. But it felt amazing when I moved it further down, tilting it to spray upwards, directly at my pussy. I gasped at the surprising sensation. It did not take long for the gasps to turn into deep and needy and guttural moans. I had washed myself like that plenty of times, nearly every day. How could it feel so different today, so much stronger and better? I moved the showerhead around slowly, the different streams of water moving around over my pussy, hitting different spots unpredictably. Every time one of them hit my clit, my whole body shuddered. I felt something building inside of me. More strongly than I could ever remember it, and I was more aware of it than ever before. An orgasm was building up, slowly due to the unpredictable sensations on my pussy, but still steadily. It felt like it might be the strongest orgasm I had ever felt. I enjoyed it growing inside of me, almost unable to think or react to it. Then a voice in my head started screaming at me, and somehow that part got control over my hands. The water stopped splashing against me, and I stood there for a few moments, breathing loudly and trying to get calm down. Then I stepped out of the shower, to get away from the temptation. I created a huge puddle of water on the bathroom floor, but I did not care. If I got another chance to grab that shower head, I would not put it away. My sight brushed the mirror, and I stepped closer. Now I could see all the signs of arousal. But what really caught my eye was some slight movement. This was the first time in a while, I could see my clit that clearly and directly. It seemed bigger than I remembered it, and it was not hidden behind my clithood as I had expected. A clearly swollen part of it was protruding from its safe cover, sticking out as if it wanted to explore the world outside of its usual shelter. I had never seen it as prominently as now. But what was more, was that it was twitching. Every second or so I could see it throb. Making itself and the clithood extend, than inflate again. It seemed to scream at me to touch it, crying for attention. But I knew I could spare it no touch. I grabbed a towel, and turned away, careful not to touch my pussy while I tried my self. I would not have been able to dry it anyways. I had never been this close to orgasm for so long, and when I was finally dry and put my panties on, I was still afraid their touch might be enough to make me cum.I felt lightheaded, yet still happy, when I cleaned up the bathroom floor and went on with my day. A little later, I received his next message “So how does it look? Where is the picture? ;)” It was only then that I realized that my message about shaving myself had been the next question, right after he had asked for a picture. That had not at all been what I had planned for. He really expected me to take a picture showing all of myself? Sending it over the internet? I hesitated for quite a while, really not feeling confident with the idea. However, there was one thing that finally made the decision. And that was my arousal. I had not yet fully recovered from my experience in the shower, my thoughts rarely wandering away from sexual topics for longer than a few minutes. And the more I thought about him getting off to more pictures of me, the worse it got. I was so turned on from the whole experience of the last days, that I wanted to share it with him, get him aroused. Get him to jerk off to the thought of me. And, maybe to pictures of me. Tentatively, I stripped naked. Gosh, my panties were drenched. Well, parts of it was probably still water from the shower, but I could see the strings that build between the fabric and my pussy, when I peeled them off, and those were definitely a prove of my arousal. What a sight. I tried to pose, to give him a view of my whole body, but did not manage to get it into the frame. I fumbled around for a few minutes, but nothing seemed to work well. Finally, I went into the bathroom, observing myself in the big mirror on the wall. That would do. I had never taken one of those classic “mirror selfies”, and here I was, naked and bare shaven, and took my first. I felt so naughty when I did it. And it felt so good. I was sexy! I snapped a picture, and looked at it. Didn’t like my smile. So I took another one. My breasts where not in focus enough. Again, and again. Soon I had a series of pictures, all of my standing naked in front of the mirror. And that’s when I saw it. On the latest picture, there was a string of my juice, hanging down mid air from my pussy. I looked at the mirror, it was still there. Slightly longer. I could feel my pussy clench. I was so aroused. I zoomed in on the picture. The angle was not perfect to see a lot, but shaving my hair definitely improved the view. And there was the string of my juices. The perfect sign of my arousal. I went back through the earlier photos. And now that I looked for it, I could see it in them as well. Scrolling back to the last picture, I could see it grow longer. Could see how the photo session had gotten me more and more aroused. I decided to show him the series when he was back, and only sent him the last one. “I am so wet for you! I need you! I cannot wait for you to come back!”. I did not expect a reply, but received one a few minutes later. “And I cannot wait to lick your bare little pussy, and taste your arousal!”. I wondered a bit, why I did not get called a good girl in the message. But I was still happy about his approval. And I set there, fantasying about his tongue on me. Fantasying about his mouth, wrapping around my clit. I sat there, for a long while.Unfortunately, I had plans with friends that afternoon and evening, so I could not live out my new found erotic energy anymore that day. That did not keep him from sending me messages, that reminded me of sex all evening long. Apparently he did get off to my picture, once he was at his hotel room again. It made me embarrassed to read that message, while surrounded by friends. But it also made me feel proud. And in the end, it was that thought that guided me to sleep, when I lay in my bed at night, naked and leaking on the new bed linen. female orgasm denial Get your own Orgasm Control toys: For men: http://www.amzn.to/1V6XQvv For women: https://ift.tt/1UWn54n
