How I Found Love in Bangkok

Chapter Twenty-six

SEXUAL TORTURE

I slid under the duvet and pulled it all the way up to my chest. There I remained in silence, looking up at the ceiling with my lips pressed into a thin line.

Knowing Ja was fine with being the center of my fetish did not make it any less uncomfortable. I judged myself for a bit; feeling a spat of self-pity. Ultimately, I felt drawn, compelled to feel a certain level of intimacy I had starved myself of for months. I raised the briefs up and took a long hard look at it. Slowly, the excitement crept in.

I lowered it slowly to my nose, inhaling deeply with a warm shiver. It smelt just like him, his grapefruit fragrance lingered, and I smiled, squeezing the duvet as I swallowed in an attempt to tame my arousal. His scent was pleasing, so pleasing, I became intoxicated in seconds.

It felt like his pheromones exploded in my room and completely consumed me, forcing my body to feel things I had not felt in a long time. Deep sensational things. I was whimpering without having touched myself yet. I was warm under the duvet, cocooned in lust and desire.

I could feel his warm breath against my cheek, hear his soft giggles, smell his skin. I wanted to open my eyes and look into his, but I knew that would mean losing the visual of him I had already created in my mind.

I knew the hand I felt caressing my waist was not really there, the lips I felt on my neck, the body pressing onto mine, his warm breath. They were all a figment of my imagination. So, I left my eyes completely shut, locking myself into the perfect fantasy of him.

I placed his underwear on my face and reached for the lubricant blindly and quickly, squeezing some into my palm and taking hold of my hard warm self, gently massaging the tip and exhaling a moan of satisfaction.

"Fuck," I murmured when I made the first stroke.

My go to visual for getting off was either imagining men in underwear of all sorts, posing like models and jerking off. Or, on their knees while I fuck them, holding onto their underwear. Not that day. Instead, I imagined Ja caressing one side of my cheek while kissing the other, steadily riding my cock and that... damn... that set me on fire.

I bit my lower lip, stroking myself steadily while moaning, squeezing the covers harder. I imagined my palm was his hole, and I was the reason he was in complete ecstasy. I stroked faster, curling my toes and wriggling under the duvet.

I wanted to see him cum to give myself permission to cum, and the urge only grew more intense the more I sniffed his underwear. I kept delaying my orgasm and it was both frustrating and deeply satisfying at the same time.

I dug my head back into the pillow, trying hard to get a clear visual of him cumming, to imagine what he'd sound like, what his warm cum would feel like splashing over my skin, the face of satisfaction he'd make.

Maybe it was the guilt of it all, or the conflicting feelings of intense desire and longing that coursed through me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't picture him clearly. His face just wouldn't come to me. Overwhelmed by the sensation, my body was ready to cum.

I opened my eyes in defeat, raising my duvet in a rush and reached for more lube, quickly squeezing and stroking. My moans were deep and stifled, as if I didn't want him to hear me pleasuring myself to his scent. I went as fast as I could, shivering, moaning and pulsing as my body reached for an orgasm. As I came, I fell back into the bed, completely sunken in deep pleasure.

Breathing heavily, I reached for my shirt, wiped the impressive load of cum off me and pulled the covers over me, my mind all foggy. It was the best orgasm I had experienced in a long time. I let myself absorb every sensual feeling the orgasm gave me, laying there motionless, with no thoughts and soon, sleep took me.