For Maybe More Than I Can Take

"Don't stop," I whisper to myself and no one, "Emily, don't stop. Don't you dare fucking stop now."

Not when I've barely even begun.

Right hand pressing up, pushing along the flat of my tummy and turning so my fingers are leading the way. Thumb slipping just past my belly button as I take in a shuddering breath. Fingers starting to curl as I bump up against the bottom of my breast and wait to crest over it.

Left hand pushing down, down over my hips and down onto my left thigh and sliding in this time. This time not stopping as I press into the soft skin of my inner thigh and my knees clatter together before falling apart, feet slipping over the matress as I part my legs and draw them up while my hand starts to move in and up.

Right hand, slipping up over my breast. Fingers pressing into the taut flesh and feeling the perky bounce press back on it. So perky and so full and so warm, quivering with anticipation and shivering from the rise and fall of my breaths and the skin of them breaking out into goosebumps as my nipples harden before my fingers have even found them.

Left hand sliding up. Holding just a moment just before the warmth of my sex and then moving quick to cup it. Feeling the heat of myself radiate out and feeling the ache, the blush of me, needing a proper touch. Feeling the squigly warmth turn to wetness inside of me as the lips of my sex flush and await the moment they are parted.

Deep breath now as my right hand shifts ever so slightly. Thumb on one side and forefinger on the other side of my nipple. The puckered flesh of my areola bumpy a little but still puffy in spite of the hardness. The nub of my nipple arching for touch and finding it as I close my thumb and finger onto that bead and pull ever so slightly, drawing a sigh of pleasure out of me that mingles with the pain my hand is inflicting on me.

Bite my bottom lip as my left hand presses down and feels my sex through the fabric of my boy shorts. Feels the pulsing of my heartbeat racing against my palm and feels my hand shift, my fingers sliding up as the middle one traces the break between my lips and presses the fabric in, dipping in just enough to tease the warmth of my wetness from my inner folds to my outer lips.

Pinch and twist, just enough to make me gasp. Just enough that a shock of pleasure runs from my nipple and arches through my body shuddering down my spine and making me press my breast up to meet the attentions of my right hand.

Press down with my left over the mound of my sex and start to turn, a trail of clockwise circles that add the pressure to the moment and slowly, bit by bit, draw the heat up in my belly until I find that I'm pressing my full ass back down into the bed and my hand is following my bodies lead, pressing even harder to increase the pressure in me.

Releasing my nipple and finding my breast in full. Palming the fullness of it while my fingers splay like a web across it. I squeeze hard enough that I can feel the tension of my skin and a smile lights on my lips as my nipple is dragged against the palm of my skin and pressed down into me.

Sliding up now, thumb on my clit through the fabric and pressing over it once before settling into a pattern like the pendulum of a clock. Back and forth and back and forth in a way that sets my expectation but makes it rise.

Because it's going faster now. It's all going so much faster.

My heart, racing in my chest.

My breath, coming in gasping refrains.

My body, the heat pulsing through me as I shift and squirm, a nervous energy driving me on to want and to wallow and to wish.

For more.

For so much more.

For maybe, just maybe, more than I can take.

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