Look But Don’t Touch #4
The sheer visual of him pumping his hard dick right next to her, completely forbidden to touch, shattered her completely.
With a loud, echoing scream, her pussy convulsed, clamping down hard on her fingers as a fresh torrent of wetness flooded out of her.
Watching her explode pushed Mike right over the brink. He gave three more lightning-fast, heavy strokes, his body freezing as his climax hit like an electric shock.
He aimed his throbbing tip right at her, and a thick, heavy rope of white cum erupted, shooting across the gear shift and splashing directly onto her bare inner thighs. Two more powerful ropes followed, splatting across her stomach and the bottom hem of her white shirt.
They both panted heavily, the car windows quickly fogging up from the intense heat of their bodies. Felicity looked at the thick white cream coating her thighs, a completely dazed, deeply satisfied smile on her face as she lazily rubbed his cum into her skin.
By Sunday afternoon, the initial full week of the doctor’s strict ban on penetration was officially drawing to a close.
Felicity’s antibiotics had completely done their job, erasing every trace of her UTI, but the game had transcended its medical necessity.
The exquisite torture of the no-touch rule had become an addiction neither of them was willing to break.
They had created a monster out of their own restraint.
Mike was at home, pacing his living room in nothing but a pair of loose gym shorts, his cock heavy and semi-erect just from thinking about her, when his phone chimed. It was a FaceTime call from Felicity.
He tapped the screen, and his breath caught.
Felicity had set her phone up on a tripod inside her bathroom.
The room was steamy, the glass door of her walk-in shower entirely fogged up except for a clear, hand-wiped circle right in the center.
She was standing completely naked inside the stall, the spray of the water hitting her shoulders and cascading down her full breasts, making her nipples stand up in hard, dark points.
"I know the week is technically over, Mike," Felicity whispered, her voice carrying an echoing, echoey quality against the bathroom tiles.
Her hazel eyes were wide and glazed with pure, unadulterated horniness.
"But I don't want you to touch me yet. I want to play through the weekend. Go stand in front of your full-length mirror."
"You're turning into a total exhibitionist, you know that?" Mike rasped, his voice thick as he propped his phone up on his dresser, framing his entire body in the mirror just like she asked.
"I'm a slut for you watching me," she corrected immediately, a wicked, breathless smirk crossing her face. "Now take those shorts off. I want to see it."
Mike hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and shoved them down to his ankles, stepping out of them. His cock sprang free in the reflection, instantly gorging with blood until it was a thick, veiny rod, pulsing aggressively with a heavy bead of pre cum at the tip.
On the screen, Felicity let out a wet gasp at the sight of his thick meat.
She backed up against the tiled wall of the shower, lifting her right leg and pressing her foot firmly against the glass door.
The position spread her legs completely wide, exposing her soaking wet pussy directly to the camera lens.
The water washed over her stomach and streamed down into her hairless bush, mixing with the thick, clear juices already weeping from her swollen pussy lips.
"Watch me, Mike," she moaned, her manicured fingers diving between her thighs.
She used her index and middle fingers to slide deep inside her tight, slick hole, her thumb instantly locking onto her engorged clit.
Because of the water and her own intense horniness, the friction was incredibly loud—a wet, sloppy, rhythmic squelch that broadcasted straight through Mike’s phone speakers.
She pumped her fingers violently in and out, her hips rolling against the wet tile, pushing her dripping slit right up against the glass so Mike could see the dark, tight crease of her asshole twitching with every stroke.
Mike gripped the base of his shaft, his strong hand closing tightly around the hot meat. He began a fast, brutal stroke, his knuckles brushing against his tight, heavy balls as he pumped his thick dick right in front of the mirror.
"Fuck, Felicity, look at how hard I am," Mike growled, his chest heaving as he watched her head drop back, her dark hair soaking wet and clinging to her neck. "I'm stroking it so hard for you. Look at that wet pussy."
"Ah... yes! Stroke it, Mike! Stroke it for me!"
Felicity screamed, her voice breaking as she violently rubbed her clit.
She was sliding three fingers deep inside herself now, her pussy clamping down on them in an desperate, involuntary rhythm.
"I can feel my walls twitching. I want your big cock so bad, but watching you stroke it is driving me crazy!"
The raw sight of her face contorting with pleasure behind the glass pushed Mike past the point of return. His grip turned into a punishing friction, his forearms veining as he picked up the pace to a frantic blur.
"I'm gonna cum, Felicity! Rub that clit!" he roared.
Felicity’s body went rigid. She gave her clit one final, brutal pinch, her eyes rolling back into her head as a massive, shattering orgasm violently ripped through her pussy, making her scream out loud as her juices sprayed against the shower glass.
An instant later, Mike let out a deep, animalistic groan.
He gave three more lightning fast pumps and pulled his hand back, letting his cock violently erupt.
A thick, hot rope of white cum blasted through the air, hitting his full length mirror with a loud splat.
Two more powerful, heavy ropes followed, streaking down the glass reflection right over the image of his throbbing dick.
They both panted heavily across the digital divide, their chests heaving in sync. Felicity leaned her head against the shower door, watching Mike’s spent meat twitch on her screen, completely captivated by the beautiful, messy reality of their new favorite game.
By Tuesday morning, the workweek had resumed, but the boundaries of their mutual obsession continued to bleed into every hour of the day.
The complete ban on physical contact had transformed their brief mid-day messages into a high stakes psychological game.
Felicity had texted Mike an address to a high-rise corporate building downtown, giving him a specific office number on the twentieth floor and a strict timeline: “Twelve-fifteen. Don’t knock.”
Mike arrived exactly on time, filling out a sharp grey suit that did nothing to hide the heavy, solid build of his shoulders.
He walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway of the executive suite, located her nameplate, and turned the brass handle.
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, automatically locking.
The office was spacious, dominated by a massive glass desk that faced a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
Felicity was sitting behind it in a high-backed leather chair.
She was wearing a professional, tailored navy blazer, but as Mike took a step closer, his eyes dropped below the edge of the transparent glass.
She had completely discarded her skirt.
Her long, toned legs were spread wide, her feet resting on the lower rungs of her chair.
She was wearing nothing from the waist down but a pair of thigh-high black stockings held up by delicate lace garter straps.
Her hairless pussy was entirely bare, resting flat against the dark leather of the seat.
The sheer contrast of her professional blazer and her completely exposed, glistening crotch made Mike’s heart slam violently against his ribs.
She was already dripping, a clear, heavy bead of pussy juice pooling at the lowest point of her opening.
"You're late by two minutes," Felicity whispered, her voice a low, commanding purr. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the glass desk, her hazel eyes completely wide with a raw, dirty hunger. "Lock the door with the deadbolt. And get it out."
Mike didn't say a word. He reached back, turning the heavy metal thumb turn until it clicked, ensuring absolute privacy. He didn't bother taking off his suit jacket. He simply unbuckled his leather belt, yanked his zipper down, and shoved his trousers and boxers down to his mid-thighs.
His thick, purple cock sprang loose into the cool office air, fully erect, veiny, and pulsing aggressively.
The shaft was straining upward toward his belly button, a thick drop of clear pre-cum already glistening on the crown.
He stood right at the edge of the glass desk, facing her completely, and gripped the base of his shaft with his right hand.
He began a heavy, deliberate pump, sliding his tight skin up to the ridge and slamming back down to his heavy, tight balls.
"God, Mike," Felicity gasped, her chest heaving beneath her blazer. The sight of his massive meat pumping right in front of her face, separated only by a few feet of space, made her pussy ache with a deep, hollow throb.
She reached her hand down beneath the desk, her fingers instantly slicking themselves in her own hot, creamy juices.
She spread her outer lips wide, exposing her swollen, red clit directly to his hungry gaze through the transparent glass.
She let out a sharp, wet moan as she began to slide two fingers deep inside her tight hole, her thumb instantly locking onto her engorged nub.
Squelch. Slick.
The wet, frantic sound of her self abuse echoed loudly in the quiet, carpeted office.
Felicity rolled her hips forward against the leather, pushing her dripping slit up toward the underside of the glass so Mike could see every single detail—the way her pussy stretched around her moving fingers, the heavy cream running down the dark crease toward her asshole.
"Stroke it faster, Mike," she begged, her head tossing back, her dark waves tumbling over the collar of her blazer. "Look at your little slut. I'm rubbing my pussy right at my desk for you. Show me how much you want to stretch me out."