Twenty Minutes

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Beverly was sitting casually on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, legs crossed at the ankles, supporting her upper body with one locked-elbow arm, an expression of apprehensive fascination on her face. Her lean angular body was exciting to me even as she was dressed in a tan shirtwaist closed with dark brown buttons from hem to collar. She commented that she had never done anything like this before and asked me if I had. “Sorta,” I had told her. She replied that she would like to hear about that sometime.

I pointed at her chest and asked her to open the two top buttons of her dress. After she did I asked her to open one more. “Now five buttons in five minutes,” I had said to her pointing to the bottom button at the hem of her dress. I wasn’t watching the clock but I saw her glance at it frequently. It seemed like a very long time until the skirt of her dress parted and I could see the bare skin of her thighs above the dark tops of her stockings.


“What’s that for,” she had asked as I stood across the bed from her.

“It helps me to not come so fast because my testicles can’t ascend toward my body as they want to when I near orgasm,” I explained to her as I drew the shoestring tight, pulling the ends of the leather strap together. Then I tied the string in a bowknot. My testicles bulged below the strap, trapped in the taught scrotum. “It’s called a Slocum… get it… slow cum.”

“That’s sooo bad,” she said with a mixture of amusement and chagrin on her face.

I returned her smile and said, “Sorry.”

“What if I reached over and untied it during the twenty minutes,” she asked with a mischievous grin.

“Automatic default,” I shot back at her. “I would demand carnal knowledge of you immediately.”

“Then I better not do that, huh,” she said smiling.

I was half sitting, half-lying in the center of the bed with a couple of pillows under my upper back and head. I had stroked my penis for almost ten minutes before I began to get hard. I knew I would be inhibited and I was very pleased when I was erect enough to penetrate her. There was a quiver in my voice when I asked her, “Start time?” She nodded and looked at the digital alarm clock on the bedside stand.

I issued my first non-word sound. It was kind of a grunt. I continued to announce the intense pleasure I was experiencing while I tantalized just the head of my swollen dick. There were moans and growls and whimpers. Then I sensed I was too close to orgasm so I stopped stroking myself and waited for the eye of my dick to close. When it was completely closed I glanced at her before I added a couple of drops of baby oil to the head of my penis and began stroking just the head. I moaned and growled my pleasure as the head began to swell and the eye opened again. I stopped and started several more times making long eye contacts with her.

“I never expected to get so turned on just watching… and the sounds you make,” she said gazing at the clock. “Can’t you do it without making noise,” she asked.

“Yeah, I can but I’m not going to… ahgggg, uhhhhh,” I told her. “With sounds we touch each other, with sights we touch each other”, I added. “Time to join me, ooooh.”

“Okay, ” she agreed quickly as though she had been waiting for me to tell her to begin. She stood up and moved away from me, turned and backed up against the dresser across from the foot of the bed. Spreading her legs, she slid her right hand inside the champagne-colored string bikini. I saw the dark stain in the crotch of her panties where the excitement had begun to ooze out of her. As she began stroking herself her body bent slightly forward and the frown on her face turned to pleasure the way the sun comes from behind a cloud to bathe the land in brightness. The sight of those long legs and her hand moving excited me.

“Why don’t you just take’em offffaah?” I groaned at her.

“I’m sorry I’m so shy, I will for the next one,” she hissed.

“Ahhhoooh!,” I moaned nearly stimulating myself to the point of no return. I watched the pleasure build in herher eyes were wide and her jaw was clenched, accentuating her high cheekbones. The veins and tendons of her long neck were strained against her skin and a flush began to crawl toward her face. I saw the gooseflesh bloom on the front and insides of her bare thighs above her stocking tops. Half standing, half sitting she had her first orgasm in less than two minutes. The expression on her face could have been one of agony but I knew it was ecstasy. She made no sound.

With grace she began to move to her left toward the bathroom door. I implored her, “take off your panties, come onto me, let me fill you with my love.”

“No, we cannot touch,” she breathed as she twisted sideways to assure she was out of my reach. She moved into the bathroom and partially illegal bahis closed the door. When she swung the door open her dress and panties were gone. She was still wearing her bra, garterbelt, stockings and medium heel shoes. She closed the toilet seat lid, settled onto it and spread her legs. Her rich brown eyes burned into me as I lay on the bed experiencing my own intense pleasure. Her hand moved down between her legs so her fingers could scoop up some of her juice to lubricate her clit. She was watching her fingers work between her legs and surprised herself with a squeal. Then she looked up at me, realizing that her noise had been during the silence between my moans of pleasure.

“Look at me when you come so our souls can touch,” I urged. She agreed with a nod.

Her second climax came quickly after that. Her whole body quivered and then she became absolutely still. I watched the gooseflesh form on her thighs. She was not breathing. Then finally she screeched “aaahee! It was hard to see her eyes from that distance because she had not turned on the light in the bathroom. There was however, an intensity that came off her and nearly washed me over the edge into orgasm.

It was as if my moans and cries of pleasure finally began to draw her to me. She again sat on the bed on the side away from me, near my left leg. Her left leg was bent and resting on the bed, her right foot still on the floor. Her right hand was gently stroking her pleasure marble and I could see the beginning of another rolling, sweeping climax on her face. “Only been seven minutes,” she whispered as she gazed at the clock.

I held my left arm out toward her with my wrist bent back to show her the palm of my hand.

“Stop, you waaant me to stop?” she breathed.

“No, touch my hand. I want to hold your hand while you come,” I replied.

She shook her head slowly from side to side and said, “Can’t touch.”

“Pleeeeze,” I moaned at her.

“Just hands,” she admonished as she touched her palm to mine and interlaced her fingers between mine. I watched the tension build in her body. Her eyes were fixed on mine when the ecstasy washed across her face and rolled through her body. “Oh, ooh, oooh, gooooad!” she moaned as her hand tightened in mine. Her nails dug into my hand with more intensity than I had ever felt on the mountain.

Over a period of weeks I had trained her to hold out her hand palm up so I could place some thought or feeling into her hand. I had tried to give her something worthwhile each time in the words I spoke but part of the ritual was just touching her, connecting with her for a few moments. And always there was the hardness of her nails.

A minute or so later she reached over with her left hand and pulled on the shoestring holding the leather strap tight around the base of my scrotum. I felt the pressure release and groaned at her, “You remember what I told you about doing that?”

“Yes, of course I do,” she replied as she knee walked onto the bed until she was straddling my hips and lowered herself onto me. I slid up into her easily, savoring her warm sheath as it encased my yearning cock. There was a look of surprise on her face as she drew a sharp breath through her open mouth. “Oh lord, you have me now,” she moaned

“As you doooo meee,” I groaned back at her. I thrust up into her several times. Every square millimeter of my shaft and head was in contact with the beautiful containment of her cunt. “Take off your bra…please,” I moaned to her as I continued the slow thrusting. Her body swayed slightly as her hands went behind her back. I rammed up into her believing I could dislodge the now slack bra from her body. I reached up and pulled the straps off her shoulders and down her arms. I knew it was difficult for her. Long ago I had sensed that she wished her breasts were larger. I glimpsed her nipples and then moved my eyes to hers. She was staring straight ahead. “You’re beautiful. And I love you,” I groaned at her. She dropped her eyes to meet mine and a small smile spread across her face. When I gently gripped her nipples her eyes closed and her mouth fell open in an expression of pure delight.


It all started when a conversation with Beverly drifted into the area of sexual satisfaction one day. I asked her if she ever thought of me while she was in the shower and gave herself a few flicks of the clit while she was washing herself. She acted duly shocked drawing in a huge audible breath through her open mouth.

“You’re outrageous,” she scolded.

‘”Yeah, I know,” I responded. There was silence between us for several seconds and then I said, “Well, do you?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” she sniffed.

“I notice you’re not denying it,” I smiled back at her. “That’s what the law calls a tacit admission, your lack of denial. So you’re illegal bahis siteleri in the seventy percent and not the thirty- percent group. I very much appreciate you not lying to me,” I added.

“Seventy percent, thirty percent what?” she asked.

“Seventy percent of women admit they masturbate. The other thirty percent lie and say then don’t,” I answered.

She smiled and said, “Oh.” Then she pursed her lips and said “and what about you,” turning the subject toward me.

“What about me?” I countered.

“Do you… think about me when you’re in the shower?” she asked.

“No, it’s mostly when I am lying back on the bed with a big slippery erection in my hand. That’s when I think about you,” I told her. Her head bobbed, her eyes blinked and she almost choked.

“You masturbate?” she asked.

“Sure. I’ve become quite good at staying up on the high plateau of pleasure without coming until I want to. I fantasize that I make love to you for a long, long time and at the end you impale yourself on me and I have carnal knowledge of you,” I said.

“I’m almost afraid to ask… how do you make love to me for a long time?” she asked, a quizzical smile on her lips.

“I kiss you a lot,” I responded. “I kiss you there,” I said as I pointed to her mouth. “Then I kiss you there and there,” I said as I pointed to her breasts. “And then I kiss you there,” I said pointing to the confluence of her hips and thighs.

“We gotta stop talking about this!” she insisted.

“Okay,” I said, “but that won’t keep either one of us from thinking about it, huh?” She nodded her head slowly as an expression of concern washed across her face.

“I gotta go,” she said.

“See you next time, Hurry Girl,” I said as she moved away. That was my nickname for her. Often she was so hurried that she would not stop to talk when I encountered her on the mountain trail.

Next time turned out to be a couple days later. She locked her elbow against her side so her forearm was extending straight out from her body. Her wrist was bent back so I could see the palm of her hand and her fingers. Was the message No, or Stop or was she protecting herself from me?… the gesture wasn’t clear until she spoke. “You sure got me to thinking,” she breathed.

“You and your half sentences. That drives me nuts when you do that,” I scolded. “About what?”

“About what it would be like,” she said.

“You just did it again… what’s the ‘it’, get specific.”


“Sorry lady but you have totally lost me. Let’s start over.” There was a look of exasperation on her face and she reached out and tapped my upper arm with the back of her hand. “I like it when you touch me. Do you like it when I touch you?” I asked.

“Yes, damnit, so don’t do it!” she exclaimed.

“That makes almost as much sense as when you tell me you are attracted to me and then turn and run away,” I commented.

“You… you,” she sputtered. She knew I was toying with her, making her use the words she was so reluctant to utter. “Okay, I… you know… how it might be together,” she stammered.

“Together?” I asked unable to suppress a smile.

“As in sex!” she hissed as the back of her hand banged against my upper arm again. Now she was smiling.

“I’d be bound up with anxiety and you’d be too, probably but I shouldn’t speak for you,” I responded.

“You get like that?” she asked with surprise in her voice.


“How did you know about me?” she asked rounding her shoulders and shuffling backwards a few inches as if she were experiencing discomfort in her solar plexus.

“Because I watch your body language and facial expressions,” I told her. “Like just now when you closed your shoulders and moved away from me ever so slightly.”

“Oh,” she said

“I’ll show you,” I told her. “Just pay attention to the sensations in your body for the next thirty seconds while you listen to me, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed

I put my left hand on her right shoulder as we stood facing each other. Then I had her place her left hand on my right shoulder. “I want to make you squeal, I want to make you moan, I want to make you scream,” I said. I watched her eyes get bigger and her breathing stop. “When I go down on you, I want you to be trimmed…and sweet,…and clean,” I told her. I could sense her whole body tensing, preparing for flight. She had already yanked her left hand back from my shoulder. “What’s the sensation and where is it?” I asked imperatively.

“Tightness here,” she breathed as she tapped her solar plexus with all four fingers and thumb drawn together.

I told her, “When the sensation is an ache to be touched, then you will have overcome the fear you just experienced.”

“How do I do that?”

“Imagine yourself physically pulling the negative feeling out of your body canlı bahis siteleri with one hand and then installing the positive feeling in its place with the other hand,” I told her. She practiced the motions, first the removal and then the installation of the new attitude into her solar plexus with her other hand. She repeated the motions several times and began to giggle.

“That might work,” she said as she turned and headed down the trail. Her arms were again moving in practice of removing and replacing feelings in her solar plexus.

I encountered her on the trail a couple of days later. “Sometimes you’re really full of bullshit,” she commented with a half smile. She was making the motions of removing and replacing feelings from her body, moving her hands in a smooth practiced rhythm. Then she clamped her hands on her hips and said, “l have a hard time believing what you said about…about… staying up for a long time.”

“Well, I can,” I replied. “It’s an exquisite feedback loop in my own body. I am infinitely aware of where I am. I know when I am getting too close to the edge so I back off a little,

“How long do you… how long…? she mused.

“Oh, twenty or thirty minutes usually,” I volunteered.

“What about with a woman?” she asked

“Nothing like that,” I responded. “It’s a whole different thing. It’s not solo, I don’t have absolute control… there’s… another being, another soul involved, so I am only half of the equation.” I took a long breath and added, “Sometimes I go limp.

She frown and I could see thought pictures flashing across her mind. “I’m absolutely fascinated with the idea,” she admitted.

“Which idea, me going limp?” I asked

“No, no, of you staying up by yourself for twenty or thirty minutes,” she responded.

“Well, a couple minutes ago you said you didn’t believe me,” I commented.

“I know, I know. I just can’t get the picture in my mind of you doing that,” she said. “Would you…?

There was a long silence that I finally broke. “You want to watch, huh?” I said.

“You could make a videotape for me,” she replied with an impish grin.

“And what would you be doing while you’re watching the tape?” I asked

“Watching,” she said firmly.

“And?” I smiled at her.

She cocked her head to one side and smiled. “Doing what I’m watching you do on the tape,” she said.

“And will you bring me a videotape of you doing that,” I asked.

“My god, no,” she said.

“Well, if you won’t, then I won’t either, so that’s the end of that,” I told her.

“Well, there is still the in-person thing,” she countered.

“Oh, you just sit around with your stopwatch and then at the twenty minute mark I can just stop or shoot my wad, is that it,” I retorted.

“Whatever,” she blurted. I gazed directly into her eyes and slowly shook my head NO. “Welllll I could take over with my hand. I bet I could have you squirming and squirting in less than a minute,” she grinned. “My god, I can’t believe I said that,” she choked as a blush spread up her neck and face.

No, the ‘whatever’ I want is you,” I growled at her.

“How?” she asked.

“Fulfill the fantasy. Come on to me, literally,” I said.

“No, we can’t touch.” There was a long pause and then she added, “The most I could do is get myself off while I’m with you.” The blush washed over her again.

“That’s all you want?” I asked

“No, I’ll admit I fantasized about a lot more but that’s as far as I’ll go,” she said firmly.

“Tell me about the fantasy,” I said.

“What you said before. All the kisses… all over,” she said very quietly.

“I can do that,” I replied

“No, we can’t touch,” she repeated.

“So we both get ourselves off, is that right?”

“We can’t touch!” she said again.

“It might make an interesting experience. When?”


Damned if I didn’t wilt. I tasted frustration and embarrassment, like the coppery taste of blood, like the iron taste of fear.

“It’s okay,” she said, “we’ll keep practicing until we get it right.” She snuggled against me. I was enjoying the contrast between the texture of her bare skin and the hard smoothness of her stockinged thighs. The lacy garterbelt had yet another texture to explore and enjoy.

The beauty of her slim muscled body was overwhelming. The whole length of her curled into me. It was a perfect fit. Thigh to thigh, belly to belly, her head tucked into the curl of my shoulder as I put my arm around her and my hand rested on her back. I realized I was laboring to breathe. I snorted a half laugh and told her, “You take my breath away, woman.” She giggled happily and murmured a non-word sound of appreciation. More words spilled out… “I have wept for want of you, woman. No man has ever loved you as I do. No man ever will. Be my woman.”

Her brown eyes sparkled as she raised her head to look directly into my eyes. “I love you too, I really doubt first you have to show me you really can last twenty minutes,” she grinned.

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