5 months and 18 days.
171 days in total.
That’s how long he’s denied me – the way I desperately need and want to be. The way I’ve asked to be. The way I’m the best girl I can be for him.
But, also…
That’s how many days I spent hearing about my sister’s fulfilled orgasms, indulgent pleasure and limitless satisfaction. How she gets to cum multiple times a day, every day, and is never left wanting. How her urges and desires are seen to and sated while mine are intensified.
That’s how many days my cunt clenched around nothing as I ripped my hands away at the last second, aching and wanton. How long I’ve spent being conditioned and encouraged to be achy, be needy, to want and long for pleasure while understanding I won’t ever have a second of it – I don’t deserve it.
171 days I’ve spent looking forward to this gift, dreaming of it, planning it out; how I would do it, how long I would make it last, how I would come down from it afterward. Would I use my hands, or my vibrator? (Hands won out),
And now it’s done, and the room is spinning. My head is full of glowing, golden static and my heart is pounding. My eyes are a bit sore from how hard they rolled back in my head. My fingers are stiff, and my cunt is aching, but this time in a new way.
I have the giggles. I’d forgotten this feeling. I need a nap.
I can’t wait til next Christmas 🤍
“But, also…” there were the days of The Gathering, when five other people had multiple orgasms —many by your hand and/or tongue— and you just humped the air, grunted, and begged for more denial.
I mean, your mouth was pretty much a public utility for a week in October, yet no one gave you more than a whiff of ephemeral pleasure for yourself. Can you imagine?
Oh, wait… of course you can.
Merry Christmas, needful thing.