A Kiss to Die For #NSFW #MasturbationMonday

Looking back at my time in St. Petersburg, I’m feeling more optimistic, maybe even somewhat apologetic for what I wrote. There was a moment, so intimate and trusting, far beyond what I had experienced before. Probably not something I would recommend. And yet, the story of St. Petersburg wouldn’t be complete without this moment.

After my screaming incident, I finally went back inside. The door to our room was open, no sounds, just the running of the bathtub. He must have stepped outside, getting a drink at the bar most likely. It was sweet of him to prepare a nice warm bubble bath for me, one of my most favorite activities in the world.

The gasmask was hanging over the edge of the tub.

A quick shower and the catsuit was gone. I was still frozen stiff and couldn’t wait to warm up in a nice bath. That he prepared it made me think I over-reacted. He did care, just not in freezing temperatures outside. Maybe I really did get through to him.

With my catsuit hung-up to dry, I dipped into the warm water. It was perfect. Just the right amount of bubbles, nice temperature, and a soft lavender scent. A minute or two of relaxation and breathing before I could not resist the gasmask. This one was different. No rebreather bag attached, just the mask with its valves for inhaling and exhaling. It was tighter than I was used to. Covering my entire head in thick rubber, it took a bit of time to pull it all the way over my face, my hair, and down my back. The bottom sealed tightly around my neck. A feeling of complete enclosure and distance from the cold air blowing against my skin just a few minutes earlier.

His touch across my head startled me for a second. Slow, gentle, like he was wiping the tears off my face. His face was close to mine, I could see his eyes through the goggles. Then he kissed me. First on my forehead, then between my eyes, working down to the round black air intake valve.

Kissing my access path to fresh air was as close as he could get to a real kiss. I could just see him opening his mouth wide, as if he was the one giving a blow job. Instead, he took the round opening in his mouth and inhaled, sucking the oxygen out of my mask. He had my attention!

At first I thought he was still angry at me, but right as I was beginning to protest, he exhaled air back into my gasmask. I could tell it was not fresh air. He had used up a fair amount of the oxygen before sharing his air with me. I relaxed. Exhaled, hoping for fresh air.

He continued to wrap his lips around my gasmask intake. We got into a slow pattern with him inhaling through his nose, holding the air for a while, and then exhaling the rest into my gasmask. The air was deprived of oxygen, but it was his air. It was his way of kissing me, his way of making sure I was totally under his control and perfectly protected. Just enough air to relax, no more, no less.

Hands moving over my body, he began touching me between my legs. I spread them instinctively. The lack of fresh air was beginning to take its toll and he knew it. Soon he would have to let me breath freely, so I thought. Instead, he held his breath longer, sucking more of the oxygen out of the air he shared with me. His kisses became my lifeline, I was literally in his hands.

My clit first felt a slight touch, no more than some soft brushing against my pussy. No penetration, just gentle stroking back and forth. I didn’t want him to stop. My hand and arms were soaking wet, but I reached around his head, holding his mouth tightly over my gasmask. I wanted him to know that I trust him. Whatever amount of air he gave me, I was grateful and showed him the best way I could.

The embrace, was a magical moment. He was mine for just a short while. He was mine because I gave him the ultimate control over me. My air was his air, and I accepted what he gave me. I didn’t want this moment to end, although my clit began to respond to his continuous touch.

He took my right hand, letting it slide over my chest, my stomach, down to my pussy. He wanted me to experience the coming orgasm together with him. Our fingers worked in perfect harmony with his reaching deeper inside me, while I massaged my clit. Then there was no fresh air any more.

His breathing was back out through his nose and none of his air reached inside my gasmask. I was running out of time. His fingers were now pushing deeper than before into my pussy, almost stretching it to fit his entire fist inside. I was rubbing my clit faster knowing that I didn’t not have much time before my air would run out.

I tried to suck fresh air in, but to no avail. The valves were unforgiving and he shared none of his air with me. My body was getting closer and closer to an amazing orgasm. I felt like blanking out when suddenly there was a burst of fresh air. The release triggered an enormous orgasm, my legs squeezed his hand inside my pussy, almost crushing it.

It was a long orgasm and he felt every contraction inside my pussy. I let go of his head, and said a quiet and muffled ‘Thank you, Sir.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

13 comments

  1. That sounds so hot, so vulnerable and I felt quite a lot of anxiety on your behalf. I genuinely wondered if he was trying to punish you – but you knew him better and your trust was rewarded. Powerfully erotic piece.

    Like

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