Domination's Delay: A Slow Release

The silence in the room pressed in on me, thick and heavy like a humid summer night. It had been a month since my last release, a month of agonizing restraint, of battling the insistent, primal urge that threatened to consume me. But I held firm, clinging to the conviction that I was the master of my own desires, the conductor of my own pleasure. It was a strange, almost perverse power, this control, this deliberate postponement. The benefit, I discovered, was an acute awareness of every sensation, a heightened sensitivity that made even the most mundane touch electric.

My cock, normally a pliable, limp thing, felt different now. It possessed a nascent vitality, a slow, insistent growth fueled by the tension of suppression. I lay on my stomach, feeling the first tentative pulses of blood begin to flood its chambers, stretching the skin, making it taut and firm. The sensation was exquisite, a silent explosion within my own body. It rose slowly, deliberately, as if taking its time to fully realize its potential. Veins throbbed beneath the stretched skin, threatening to burst with the pressure, but I held back, savoring the anticipation. It grew taller, more substantial, a testament to the power of denial. Without any external stimulation, it was a breathtaking spectacle, a testament to the body's own capacity for arousal. The tingle that emanated from my loins intensified, a symphony of pleasure building within me, a silent scream of anticipation.

As the moment approached, I seized control, clenching my muscles with deliberate force. The shockwaves that rippled through my being were intense, primal, a reminder of the raw, untamed energy that lay dormant within me. The sensation was overwhelming, a violent surge of heat and pressure that made my skin crawl. Then, just as abruptly, it subsided, leaving me rigid, pulsating, and utterly consumed by the memory of the pleasure I had denied myself. The muscle spasm faded, leaving me once again vulnerable, but this time, the anticipation was even more potent.

Slowly, painstakingly, the erection began to recede, shrinking back to its original size, but not entirely. There remained a lingering girth, a hint of the power that had been unleashed, a promise of future delights. I didn't let the moment pass without its due. With a casual hand, I retrieved my member, its skin still glistening with the residue of the recent tension. I began to squeeze and tug, teasing it with the anticipation of release. The semi-erection that resulted was a small victory, a reminder of my dominance. Then, with a decisive movement, I re-inserted it, plunging it back into the depths of my own body, resuming my role as the master of my own pleasure.

I had an elaborate fantasy playing out in my mind, a carefully constructed scenario designed to heighten the experience. I imagined my wife, her body yearning for the release that I was withholding. She was a creature of desire, her pussy throbbing with a desperate need, her clit swollen and pink, a beacon of anticipation. Her lips were swollen and parted, eager to receive the offering I held within me. The scent of her arousal filled my senses, fueling the flames of my own desire.

As if summoned by my thoughts, she entered the room, her eyes locked on mine with an unmistakable hunger. She moved with a languid grace, her body radiating a palpable heat. She approached me slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the anticipation. Her hand reached out, gently caressing my body, sending shivers down my spine. Then, she began to unbutton my jeans, revealing my pale, hairy member. The sight of it ignited a fresh wave of arousal, intensifying my control.

“You want all this cum I’ve been storing up for you?” I whispered, my voice low and seductive. “Well, you’re going to have to milk it out of me.”

A slow smile spread across her face, a knowing glint in her eyes. She understood the game, the power dynamic at play. She took control, wrapping her arms around my waist, pulling me close. Her hands immediately began to work, kneading and milking my member with a possessive intensity. The sensation was exquisite, a slow, deliberate release that built to an unbearable crescendo. I felt her body vibrate against mine, her pleasure infectious.

As she continued to work on me, my muscles tensed, anticipating the inevitable climax. The pressure mounted, the heat intensified, until finally, I could hold back no longer. With a final, desperate thrust, I plunged deep into her waiting pussy, unleashing the pent-up torrent of semen within me. The world exploded in a rush of sensation, a symphony of pleasure that drowned out all other thoughts.

She let out a strangled moan, her body convulsing with the intensity of her orgasm. Her clit pounded against my head as she clutched me tightly, refusing to let go. I continued to thrust, pouring out every last drop of my essence, until finally, I emptied my entire reservoir, leaving her breathless and spent.

When we both calmed down, she gazed at me with a mixture of awe and gratitude. "Wow," she gasped, "you just kept going! I wasn’t sure if you’d ever stop unloading into me."

"Yeah, well, I've been saving it all up for you," I replied, my voice filled with a perverse satisfaction. The control, the restraint, the deliberate postponement – it had all been worth it. The experience had been a revelation, a confirmation of my own dominance, a testament to the power of denying oneself. Now, as I lay beside her, exhausted but fulfilled, I knew that I would continue to embrace this strange, exhilarating dance of control and desire. The pleasure of being the one in charge, the master of my own pleasure, was simply too intoxicating to resist. The next month would be another month of meticulous control, another month of building anticipation, another month of waiting for the ultimate release. And I, as always, would be ready.

Did you like this story? Domination's Delay: A Slow Release look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.