She doesn't

The world became more distant to me. I folded my head down to my chest, as if that would take me to the more private and secluded place I desperately needed to be in right now. There was a white-hot cord in my tummy, simultaneously reaching higher and higher and threatening to snap. I flexed my abs, twisting a bit, as if that would ward off the feeling, but it continued to grow.

I wanted to shout at her to stop. She couldn’t do this to me! Not here. But the tormenting water just kept coming, spray after spray. Surely by this point she’d sprayed my pussy more than the rest of my body combined, right? I heard one of the boys snicker, but I didn’t catch what they were saying. Probably something about how slutty I was or making a bet about how long it would take me to break.

The cord in my tummy was pulled impossibly thin. I could feel my heartbeat in my clit, each pulse pushing my arousal up just a little bit higher, eating at my sanity. In fact, I was so stimulated that I typically would orgasm way before this point, and that filled me with even more dread. All of my resistance had drained away, but something about the stimulation of the water meant that I couldn’t orgasm even if I wanted to. Instead I was stuck right on the precipice, looking over what would be a tremendous fall. I didn’t know if I would even be able to control my body, but god, all I wanted in that moment was to make it over the peak, let out a guttural, breathy moan so long that it would take my breath away, and finally feel some relief. No matter who was watching. No matter how wrong it was.

And then, suddenly, the water stopped.

“What--Lydia! I was using that! If we can’t get the tap back open, it’s your ass.”

“But--she’s clean, look!” Lydia said, moving back from the faucet and dropping her voice. “You can’t do that to her.”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please, and you aren’t stoppin’ me.”

I panted like a dog that had just run a mile. My face was hot and I’m sure it was red, despite the cold spray dripping off of it. There would be no denying how close I just got to cumming--in the middle of the front yard--surrounded by a crowd, some of them jeering boys who I’d have to see again at school. My only hope was that none of them recorded anything.

My eyes were still closed. My pussy ached, but I didn’t dare touch it. I sniffed and pushed back a tear or two from both the sheer sensation I had just experienced and how bad I imagined the next day of school would go. But instead of giving my audience any satisfaction, I made up a plan in my head and executed it exactly: Open my eyes; Grab Lydia; Calmly walk up to her room, lock the door, and then we could figure everything out.