Shelly's desire for release had swept over her once more, less intense than it had been while Richard was tickling her but still as though she were starving for sex.
"Wait," Richard said. "I have just the thing. Just sit right there and I'll get it."
Shelly felt a tiny twinge of alarm at Richard's words. After all, they could only mean that he was getting something so they could have sex. A blanket or a pillow, perhaps. Was she ready to have sex with him? Why not? She had to admit that she loved what he had done to her, and that while he was tickling her she had silently begged a thousand times for him to touch her clit. Besides, from what he said it just might be a sex toy. One of those vibrators in her friend's catalog. She quivered in excitement.
When Richard returned from the other room he was dragging the large thing she had seen inside, still shrouded with a blanket. Most of all she was crestfallen, but a little corner of her mind was curious.
As he pulled whatever it was into the center of the room she could see the bottom, where the blanket did not reach. It looked like the curved bottom rails of a rocking chair, only the proportions of the thing were not anything like a rocking chair. The distance between the rails was right, but they were much longer. Something else about them was different, too, but it took her a few seconds to realize what. Suddenly she got it -- they remained parallel. Like a sled, only they were not flat.
Richard stood next to the mysterious thing, stiff and erect like a butler announcing a guest.
"This, my dear, is my own creation. A toy not unlike many you have played with as a child, only this one is for women who thought they had left such toys behind. For mature women, you could say. And you, Shelly, are the first woman ever to witness it, and, I hope, the first woman to play with it."
"Voila!" he cried as he tugged away the blanket with a flourish and bowed.
Shelly's eyes nearly popped right out of their sockets. It an instant she took in the fact that the object was a rocking horse. A large, powerful looking horse carved exquisitely from wood. It was not painted, finished instead like fine furniture. It was not even close to life size, but the beauty of the carving and the intensity of the pose made it seem as large as a real horse.
All of that she swallowed in a glance. What held her attention was the saddle. It was a very real looking saddle, made of black leather, but with one important feature. Sticking up from the center of the seat, up near the front, was a long, thick, leather covered shaft. Shelly knew at once what that was for, and that Richard expected her to ride it. Her stomach knotted and her hands were suddenly clammy, but she could not wait to give it a try.
"Oh wow!" she exclaimed, getting up to examine the horse. "It's so beautiful! And so, ah, wicked! Are you saying you want me to ride this thing?"
As she ended her sentence she touched the tip of the gleaming black shaft. A chill ran through her as she realized how carefully it had been designed, but whether to pleasure a woman or to torture her she wasn't sure.
The shaft was not as smooth as she had at first thought. What had appeared from a distance to be a leather covered broom stick handle was in fact modulated by a series of soft undulations in thickness that suggested a hand grip.
More striking was the elaborate method used to stitch together the edge of the leather covering. The seam ran up the front, the part of the shaft that would be touching the front of her vaginal wall. The edges were drawn together by narrow, very thin laces which ran up the shaft in a herringbone pattern, the same over and under, crisscross pattern used to lace up shoes only the side-to-side distance was much smaller. Every time the lacing crossed from one side to the other it had been given a half twist, resulting in a texture that resembled a wood worker's rasp. Near the top of the shaft a fancier method had been used, one that involved extra knots, so that the last inch was festooned with what resembled warts. At the bottom end the shaft flared out, more so in front than at the sides or back. At the base in front was an intricately braided ball about the size of a pigeon's egg that resembled a flower bud. Shelly had never heard of such a thing, or imagined anything like it, but she knew at once what is was for, and the realization made her hand tremble as she reached out to touch it.
"Nothing would delight me more!" Richard exclaimed, the solemnity in his voice sounding a little out of place.
"How does it work?" Shelly asked in wide-eyed amazement. She cursed herself for asking, knowing only too well that she did not give a damn about how it worked. She was just too scared to jump on right away. Her request was nothing but a stall.
"Here, get down on your knees so you can see underneath," he said invitingly.
Like a schoolboy doing show-and-tell, Richard pointed to various parts of the mechanism while explaining excitedly how it worked.
"First of all, I wanted the woman to control the action. I thought about using an electric motor, but that would mean a speed control. It all seemed too mechanical, too deliberate. Besides, there was the shock hazard to consider. That's why I used the rocking horse. You see this vertical rod back here? It is held down on the floor by that lead weight. When the horse rocks, the rod moves up and down. Relative to the horse, that is. The rod doesn't go up and down, the back of the horse does, but it works the same. That rod is attached to this bellcrank, which transfers the vertical motion to this horizontal rod, except that the angle of this arm makes the second rod move back and forth a lot and up and down just a little. The way I designed it, when the back of the horse goes up and down a foot, this rod here goes up and down two inches.
"Now, like I said, this rod is moving back and forth, front to back, as well as up and down. You see those grooves up there? It's hard without a flashlight. Anyway, I took this rod from the steering rack of a wrecked MGB. This is the rack itself, which is really a long, smooth steel rod with gear teeth cut along one side. The dildo is connected to a shaft that ends in a small wheel, which is pressed down against the gear teeth by a spring."
Richard looked at her expectantly, as if she was supposed to understand the significance of what he had just said. She never was very good at science, but after tonight she swore she would study harder if making machines like this was the payoff.
"Sorry, but I don't get it," she bleated bashfully.
"Well, you see," he said, standing up and holding the horse's jaw, "when the horse rocks, the dildo moves a little up and down, and the wheel rolling over the teeth on the long shaft makes it vibrate. Here, put your hand on the dildo."
He set the horse to rocking, and to Shelly's delight the wicked looking tool buzzed like an angry bee and nudged her hand slowly but firmly up and down. The wheel running over the gear teeth gave off a faint, muted sound, slow at first, becoming more rapid, then slowing once again, like a saw cutting wood.
"You see," Richard went on, "when the horse rocks forward the shaft moves up. When it rocks back, it goes down. I did that to work in conjunction with the rider's shifting body weight, to enhance the effect."
They stood there, face to face, panting but more from excitement than exhaustion. Shelly waited for Richard to ask, but he said nothing. Suddenly she was afraid that he wouldn't ask, that something would happen to make him decide that she should not try it, that it was not ready or that she was not the right woman to be the first.
"May I try it?" she blurted out.
Richard reacted much the same way he had when she said she knew about this room. This time she recognized something in that fleeting expression she had seen before but not identified. It was fear. Then she remembered something else. The way his eyes had darted around the room when they entered, coming to rest on the black dress Auntie had moved to a different rack. Moved because of a cum stain on the inside. Left by a man who loved satin and who had access to this room.
"Like I said, nothing would delight me more!" Richard exclaimed, his voice smooth and controlled, giving not the slightest hint of fear.
Shelly decided to gamble. It was a huge risk, but somehow she knew her hunch must be right. She strode confidently over to the rack where the black holoku hung, pulled it out a little, and turned to face him.
His face was pale. His eyes were riveted on her, yet looking past her. His arms hung limp at his sides. It almost seemed that she could see his knees shaking. She knew she was right.
"I'll ride your horse, but it will cost you. I want you to wear this dress. With nothing under it. I want you to feel what I feel when I dance for you, and what those women in your club feel when they wait on you."
Richard's face went from white to red.
"What?" he stammered. "Shelly, what are you saying? I couldn't possibly..."
"Take off your shirt!" she said sternly.
He just stood there, meekly, looking hurt and scared. She thought about backing off, that she had made a big mistake and that now she would never get a chance to ride his pony. Just as she was about to tell him to forget it, his hands moved up and began unbuttoning his shirt.
For some reason Shelly felt a need to keep from smiling. To smile now would be to gloat over her success, which was the same thing as his failure. If there was anything about men she had learned it was that they hated to fail in the eyes of a woman. Feeling a grin forcing itself upon her face she spun quickly to face the rack and set to work freeing the black satin holoku, waiting until she had regained her self control.
She had had some doubts about Auntie Marge's claim that a man had worn this dress, and even more about Richard fitting into it. Now that she held it out in front of her she realized that it was a lot bigger than hers. She usually wore a size five, and this one must have been an eleven, or even a thirteen. This must have been a big girl, nothing unusual for hula but unheard of for one of Auntie Marge's dancers.
When she turned back to face Richard he was naked from the waist up. His shirt was neatly folded over the back of the chair.
"Good. Now, remove your shoes and socks, your pants, and your underwear."
Shelly had never spoken this way to a man. This was how she might address one of her young cousins, but she would never command him to strip naked and Richard was anything but a child. It made her feel wonderfully powerful.
When his underwear came down she was pleased to see his cock spring out, half erect and ready for some action. He was circumcised, so the tip was fully exposed. She had only planned on dressing him up, but an irresistible idea popped into her head.
"Put you hands behind your neck!" she said sternly.
"Shelly, I ..."
"Hush! Don't speak. Don't make any sound at all."
Her words were a surprise even to her. She had no idea that bossing a guy around this way could be so much fun.
"Now hold very still. Don't move, and do not make a sound!"
When she saw that he was standing at attention, his body rigid and his cock well on the way she stepped closer, just a little to his side, and held out the dress, letting go of the train so that it spilled out onto the floor. It was about two feet from him. Very slowly she brought it closer. He looked down, first at his cock, then at the black waterfall closing in on it, and his eyes began to flash like burning coals.
"Let's see how long you can stand it. How long you can last before you make a sound."
The front of the gleaming black dress was still three inches from the tip of his cock. She abruptly moved her arm, bringing the fabric quickly to the tip where it flowed around it, engulfing the shaft in softly curved folds of icy cold satin.
Richard's head lifted and his eyes bulged. His lips were pressed tightly together. No sound came from him, but Shelly could feel the energy radiating from him.
She pulled the dress away, then brought it back, several more times. Each time she turned it slightly, to ensure that the fabric touching his cock was fresh and cold. The last time his right knee twitched and he almost lost his balance. His cock was now sticking almost straight out and had grown another inch.
"Doesn't it feel good?" she cooed. "Think about me, naked under my dress, my whole body tickled constantly like this."
So far she had been using the front of the dress, which was one continuous panel about a foot wide running from the neckline to the hem. Just like hers, where the side panels attached there was a seam at about the knees that swept down to the back in an arc. From there upward the back of the dress would fit snug, but below was the section that fanned out to make the train. The lower section was sewn to the upper in gathers. Shelly's eyes fell on the gathers and she guessed that they would add a little to the effect she was after.
She turned the dress around, lowered her arm and brought her hand close enough so that the satin brushed against his stomach, then she lifted her arm, slowly but steadily, sweeping the fabric up and over his cock. His lips trembled and his body twitched but he managed to hang on until the ruffle reached his cock.
"Ah!" Richard moaned.
Shelly let her hand down a few inches, then raised it again. She could just feel the blip of the gathered seam sliding over his cock, and each time it did he shuddered.
"Yah!" Richard yelped, staggering back.
"Come on, you can do better than that," Shelly chided. "What was that, thirty seconds? A minute? Those women in your bar have to endure this for hours."
"Yeah, but it's not rubbing against their clit. I wish it could, though. That felt fantastic."
"Well, come on, put this on and see what you put us through."
Shelly pulled down the zipper and held out the dress, wondering if she would have to explain how to get into it. Richard took it confidently, holding it at the shoulders. He gave it a toss, sweeping it forward a short distance across the floor to get the train out of the way and stepped into the opening made by the zipper, stepping forward to avoid stepping on the train. Three little squirms and it was up and in place. His skill left little doubt that he had done this a few times.
She led him to the rope that still hung from the pipes. It took her a second to figure out how the cuffs worked, then when they were on she hauled his arms up over his head in the same position hers had been in. She picked up the white satin sash and bound his ankles together, for no other reason than because he had done it to her and she had found it rather exciting.
As she drew the sash tight it reminded her of one of those conversations with her friends. One of the girls had asked if anyone had been asked to be tied up for sex, and if anyone had tried it. Most of them said that they had been asked, but only one admitted trying it. She said it really turned her on, which Shelly had found exciting news, but there was something else her friend had said that came back to her now. She had said that after the guy tied her to her bed he bound his cock with one of her silk scarves, claiming that it would make him last longer, and that it must have worked because he fucked her non-stop for a good twenty minutes.
Shelly went over to the pile of satin sashes and picked one out, hiked up Richard's dress and began winding it tightly around his still swollen cock.
"What are you doing?" Richard exclaimed.
"Shush!" Shelly commanded. "This will keep you nice and stiff, and make it last a long, long time. Remember, I want to drive you insane."
When she was done, half the length of his cock was squeezed tight in a cocoon of bright red satin. The remaining half had swollen still more, and the tip looked like a balloon ready to burst.
She went around to Richard's back to pull up the zipper, despite that fact that with his broad shoulders she doubted that it would go up very far. As she felt for the tab she spotted a tag fastened to the inside, right along the edge of the zipper. It was stiff and blank except for the word "Even" faintly scrawled on it. Shelly wondered how much stranger they would have to have been behaving in order for it to have said "Odd."
"Suck in your gut," Shelly said firmly. She squeezed the sides of the zipper together with her left hand and yanked up on the slider. Reluctantly it slid up, but it was such a strain the Shelly was afraid something would give. The zipper was metal rather than plastic, like all of the zippers she had seen on dresses made to dance in, but it was such a squeeze that she thought the fabric would split. Luckily everything held and the zipper went all the way up.
When Shelly came around to inspect the fit she almost laughed. Just as she had predicted the dress was as tight as a drum across Richard's thighs and belly, but the bust looked ridiculous. A holoku was made to mold itself to a woman's bust, but on Richard the fabric hung pitifully across his chest. No less ridiculous looking was the big lump in the center of the skirt halfway to his knees. That, however, was just what she had hoped for.
"Did you enjoy tickling me?" she taunted. "Let me show you how it feels."
Shelly reached out her arms towards Richard's waist just as he had, not because he might prefer it but simply in imitation. She loved the slick feel of the satin and the way her nails slid effortlessly across it.
Immediately he stiffened. His body and his cock. He remained silent, but his jaw was working and his eyes grew wide. As the seconds passed without a peep from her captive she became determined to make him laugh. She brought her hands to his belly and swirled her fingers around his navel as though she were finger painting. He shuddered, and his head began to turn from side to side. Still resolute in her quest, she raked her nails up over his ribs.
"Yai!" he squealed, but that was all. She smiled, glad that she had gotten something out of him.
She continued playing with his ribs and chest, sometimes making little scratching movements, sometimes large, swirling movements. More and more he yelped and moaned, but he did not laugh.
After a good five minutes of that she brought the chair over and sat in front of him. There, right in front of her face, was the lump where his cock appeared to be trying to poke a hole through the satin. She wondered if a guy was ticklish there, but even if he was not she was sure that he would enjoy being touched there. The instant she decided to tickle his cock her cunt began to throb.
She reached out with both hands and began raking her nails up and down his thighs and around the back, up over his ass and along his hip bone. After a few minutes of that she smoothly brought her right hand to the lump and began to slid the nail of her index finger over the peak.
"Oh my! Oh yes!" Richard whispered.
His body began to shake even more, which made it difficult to maintain contact with his satin draped cock, but Shelly did her best to keep up the pressure while still tickling him with her left hand. He was not laughing, but he was going more and more wild. This worked so well that she decided to continue for several more minutes, hoping to bring him close to an orgasm while not letting him come.
It took nearly ten minutes of this treatment for Richard to start laughing. It reminded Shelly of a dam bursting. At first there was a crack, then the crack slowly began to grow larger, then all of sudden it all came pouring out. He laughed so loud that she worried that someone passing by might hear him.
The energy released by Richard's collapse seemed to flow right to her cunt. The throbbing she had felt when she thought about tickling his cock grew in strength as a rich warmth spread outwards from her crotch until it enveloped her in a cloud. She had thought that she would stop tickling Richard when he could not stand it any longer, but it was she who could not stand waiting.
Without saying a word she abruptly got up and went to the horse. When she realized what she was about to do she hesitated. It felt incredibly kinky to imagine herself sitting on that leather cock So perverse, so wicked.
From deep inside her the longing she held to be ravished by a dildo rose up, and the hunger it wrought overcame her inhibition. She gathered her train in her right hand, hoisted the hem of her dress up over her knees, then swung her right leg over the horse, aiming for the dildo to be right in front of her. When both feet were on the floor and she was straddling the horse she stretched her body upward and eased forward until the leather shaft kissed her labia. She rose up higher, almost on her toes, inched forward a little more, then settled down, talking the shaft deep inside her.
A wave of satisfaction swept over her. There was nothing like the sensation of a good cock sliding inside her, and this was a very good cock. Once her crotch was settled on the saddle she lifted her feet and placed them in the stirrups.
"Your train," Richard whispered hoarsely.
Shelly was startled by the sound of his voice, so intimate had the mounting been. She looked up and saw him staring at her strangely, as if she were an angel.
"What?" she said softly, not wanting to break the spell.
"Your train. Fix it. Like a pa'u rider," he croaked.
It took Shelly a moment to understand what he meant, her thought process dulled by the wonderful pleasure coming from between her legs. She had not even begun rocking the horse and already the undulations and lacing that adorned the dildo were scorching her brain. It felt far, far better than any guy's cock. A whole different ball game.
Finally she remembered what pa'u riders were. Women who rode horses in parades. A Hawaiian version of an equestrian event. They usually wore opulent satin or velvet dresses with wide skirts that swept back over the horse's rump. Then she remembered how meticulously Richard had arranged her train after he tied her up. She reached around, gathered her train and flung it back, adjusting it so that it hung smoothly over the polished wood rump.
The effort caused spasms of pleasure to erupt from between her legs. The horse had started to rock, and sure enough the dildo buzzed inside her. She placed her hands on the horse's neck and began to rock in earnest, and was rewarded by the most mind bending pleasure she had ever felt.
After a minute the sensations had grow immensely, yet they continued to grow more intense as time seemed to all but stand still. The braided leather ball at the base of the shaft hit her right on the clit, sending what felt like electric shocks shooting up her spine every time she rocked forward. The pleasure was more intense than anything she had ever felt, even at the peak of her best orgasm, and she was nowhere near an orgasm yet. Besides the intensity there was also a different quality to what she felt, a richness that enveloped her like a cloud, as overwhelming as the aroma of hot tar only not the least bit repugnant. It was as if when she masturbated she stood on a bare stage lit with one spotlight, whereas now the set looked like an opulent room in a grand aristocratic home and dozens of spotlights bathed the stage in eye watering brilliance.
Shelly's dress contributed a lot to this rapidly expanding universe of pleasure. The more she rocked the better it felt sliding over her skin, a singing kind of pleasure that still felt so ticklish she could hardly stand it. The more she rocked the more it tickled, until she felt as though she could not possibly continue, yet continue she did. Her resolve to dive as deeply as possible into this ocean of pleasure completely overrode her craving to strip off her dress, for to be rid of its torment was to deny herself the strange new form of pleasure she had come to appreciate so much. It was not as hellish as when Richard had been stroking her, but her overall state of being made it seem even stronger. If it were possible to drown from tickling, she knew that at any moment she might die.
She rocked and rocked, lost to everything around her except for the muted rasping sound coming from the mechanism that made the dildo vibrate. With every dive forward the dildo pushed deep inside her, and with every pull backwards it tugged its way outward. As it slid in and out the opening to her cunt was pulsed by the hills and valleys running along the shaft. Another layer of pulsation produced by the twisted lacing rattled her clit. The three layers of pulsation, coming from the undulating shaft, the lacing, and the wheel grating over the teeth of the steering rack gear combined to form a harmonious chord, harmonious in sensation if not in sound.
Once she had gotten used to this strange new world of pleasure Shelly had begun to wonder how long it would take to reach orgasm, and whether or not she could stand to go on once she came. It was all so intense that for awhile she was certain that it could only be a brief, explosive experience. It felt so good she hardly cared, but a tiny part of her truly wanted the experience of being tortured by a dildo to last a long time. As the minutes ticked slowly past she began to realize that even though the pleasure she felt every second was far more intense than the peak of her best orgasms, she could not detect a the slightest trace of that growing sensation, the feeling of a balloon slowly inflating to the bursting point, that signaled the onset of an orgasm.
Just when she was afraid that Richard's horse was too intense to trigger an orgasm she finally felt that special feeling. It approached in the same slow manner it always did, only it seemed even slower. Not only did it take forever to arrive, it grew to a size far greater than usual, like comparing a toy balloon to a hot air balloon.
A new fear settled upon her, which was that if the balloon exploded the way it usually did it would blow her to bits. Her body would be uninjured, but her mind might not survive.
Until then she had been silent. Why, she could not imagine, because being able to scream had been the whole reason for coming here. She did not make a conscious decision to moan, it just happened. A moan, then a louder, more desperate moan, then a series of screams that could have come from a woman being branded. It was then that the orgasm broke over her. It was not an explosion. Not even like sky rockets going off. More than anything it felt like the engines of a space shuttle as it roared off the launch pad. It went on and on, so long that she wondered if it would ever end. It did not end abruptly, but faded away until she was right where she had been previously, rocking with wild abandon and drenched with unending pleasure.
When she realized that she could keep going she became aware of Richard. He was staring at her, transfixed, his cock still ramrod stiff. Suddenly she felt sorry for him, for not having any way to satisfy his own burning desire. The idea that followed was not some carefully arrived at plan, just a sudden whim that seemed like a good idea. She stopped rocking, gathered her dress around her waist as best she could and disengaged herself from the horse. She found that she could barely walk, and noted with some satisfaction that the dildo was covered with her creamy white slime.
She went to the pile of sashes and selected a pair, then tied one end of each together to make a longer piece. As she tied one end of this piece to the end of Richard's train he looked around quizzically, but said nothing.
"Turn around and face the mirror," she commanded.
He did as he was told, which placed his back towards the horse. She walked back to the house, pulling the sash, and tied it around the horse's neck so that the train was pulled out and up a little.
"Now, don't move your feet!" she ordered, and settled herself back into the saddle.
Her idea worked perfectly. When she rocked forward the sash dropped down, letting the train of Richard's holoku fall free so that it fell to the floor and in towards the back of his legs. When she rocked back the sash pulled the train taunt, lifting it just off the floor and pulling it away from him. When the train was loose Richard's cock sprung up, but when the train pulled back his cock was pressed down and hardly visible. This meant that the tip of his cock was sliding against the inside of the dress, and she guessed that it would feel very good.
It must have, because after a few oscillations Richard began to moan. She could see his face in the mirror, and it took on that strange series of expressions of a man overcome by sexual pleasure.
"I won't stop until you come!" Shelly managed to shout. She was not altogether certain that she would stop if he came too soon, but she was determined not to stop until he did.
Seeing his reaction spurred her quickly to another orgasm, a long, rolling series of peaks that made her knees feel like jelly. When it had passed she was so sensitive that she had to fight the craving she felt to stop.
Richard was moaning more, louder and more plaintively. Finally he exclaimed, "I can't go on any more. I can't stand it!"
Shelly tried to answer, but speech was impossible. She replied instead by shaking her head and giving no indication that she would end his suffering prematurely.
After a long, sweet plateau that lasted several minutes Shelly again felt the slow rise of an orgasm building inside her. It seemed to hesitate, like a Moray Eel peaking out from a coral head. It grew larger and larger, until little ripples of pleasure spasms broke free from the edges and flashed through her like trumpets heralding the eminent arrival of a Roman Caesar. It got to where each forward thrust produced a mind searing spasm of pain from the braided ball slamming against her clit, but it was just the sort of experience she sought when she tormented herself with her finger. She was ecstatic that Richard's horse was capable of making her suffer this way. With each thrust she held her breath in anticipation of the enormous pent up energy finally bursting from its storage chamber, but it just would not release itself. Soon even this became a kind of torment.
For several minutes Shelly had been staring blankly at the horse's neck, intent only on the feelings flooding through her. At last she looked up at Richard. His cock was still as stiff as a broom handle, bobbing up and down beneath its snug satin covering. His face was transfixed with an expression that echoed perfectly her own suffering. Seeing him in this state produced a catalytic response in her, pushing the orgasm from within her as though it was a majestic ball of crystal. It was not an explosion, but rather a sudden outpouring of energy that escaped like steam from a raging kettle. Shelly had never experienced anything other than orgasms that exploded like fire crackers, extended at most as the result of many smallish pops in a long series. This was altogether different, a flowing sensation like a waterfall or the water gushing from a fire hose. It might have been more featureless were it not for that fact that she somehow managed to keep up the rocking motion, which caused a large surge of body wracking pleasure with each tilt of the beast between her legs.
It was better than her wildest dreams. Even though she was not bound and ravished by strange men, the fact that she had a big, hard dildo pummeling her cunt for such a long time came close enough. From the moment she had settled onto the horse she had been overwhelmed with appreciation that it felt so good. As the strange new orgasm flooded her that same sense of delight expanded tenfold. There were moments when, despite the fact that she was deep in the throws of orgasmic bliss, she laughed in sheer joy at how good everything was. The sensuous dress that tickled her to the edge of insanity, the fiendish rocking horse, Richard struggling under her wickedly inspired torment of his cock, the very room they were in that allowed her to scream as loud as she wanted. It was all too good to be true, yet it was really happening. At last, after years of dreaming about something like this, it was happening to her.
The long, drawn out orgasm that had enveloped her so totally finally eased away. As she rocked, her body was slammed continuously by aftershocks that felt as though she was being struck by lightening. If someone told her than Richard had wired the dildo to a high voltage coil she would not have doubted them. Even though each and every spasm had an element of pain, the overriding sensation was absolute pleasure.
Shelly had set herself the goal of continuing until Richard came, but as the minutes ticked slowly by she began to realize that it might not happen. At the same time her cunt began to hurt, while the relentless tickling from her dress increased to a level that was absolute torture. She tried to hang on, to force herself to endure her self-inflicted suffering in order that Richard could experience the satisfaction she thought he wanted.
In the end it was the tortuous tickling of her holoku that caused her to give in. Her skin had become so sensitized that the tiniest movement of the satin blasted her with unbearable tickling. As long as kept rocking the horse her dress would rub against her. She had to stop.
As soon as she made up her mind she lifted herself gingerly up from the saddle and got off. She felt a twinge of sadness that this part of her plan had failed, but she was so happy about her own experience that it hardly made any difference. For several seconds she stood as still as possible, gasping to catch her breath. As she recovered, her thoughts turned to Richard and how to bring his ordeal to an equally mind blowing conclusion.