The moment Emily suggested going a minimum of a week with no sex at all, not even masturbation, set the clock in motion.
And from the moment I agreed, it seemed to me that I was acutely aware of my sex organs, and they were acutely aware of me. From the off, it seemed like I had to change my panties three or four times a day! I was constantly wet, and not just normal girl wet, the kind of wet we only get when foreplay has been magnificent and sex is imminent.
Then there’s my clit. It seemed to buzz and throb alternately. It pulsed and seemed to scream ”Fucking touch me!” Which in turn led to my vagina spontaneously pulsing all on its own. My tits felt like hypersensitive bullets, and my nipples were in a state of constant hardness. Even taking a pee felt immensely sexual.
But that was only the physical aspects. Out and about, it seemed that nature was aware of my bet with Emily, and conspired against me. A gust of wind the blew a girl's skirt up, showing me her panties. The guy over there who was clearly checking me out and filing images away in his wank bank for later.
Then there were the desires….the almost irresistible urges. I was almost overcome by a desire to masturbate in my woodland, especially when there were people walking about. I wanted to be caught, to be seen. Walking home through the gardens, Miss Brain gave me a thousand reasons why I should enjoy the sensation of peeing my panties. She even told me just to do that, and that I didn’t have to masturbate afterwards. (Yeah…as if.)
In my room, the drawer containing my sex toys seemed to scream at me. As I thought of the various dildos and vibrators, I seemed to feel the physical sensations of them in me and on me. And this was only day one!
As the week progressed, so I started to try to counter each symptom, but that failed miserably. If I was so wet, I reasoned, then go without panties. Then I won’t need to change them so often. Maybe so, but I began to walk around in an invisible cloud of my own sex pheromones…a cloud noticed by others. As for showers, each drop of water that fell on me reminded me of Emily cumming on me, or Dani taking such delight in peeing on me for the first time, or The Lovely Chris spraying me with his cum. As for washing myself ‘down there’ that had to be little more than a quick handful of liquid soap and the fastest rinse in history. Anything else would make me cum. I daren't look at the liquid silk soap because it had the appearance of semen.
But oh, the dreams! The dreams that plagued me night after night. The dreams that required my sheet to be changed every morning because of the larger wet patch I found myself in every morning. Once or twice I wondered if I had actually spontaneously orgasmed in my sleep.
The dreams went way beyond my normal range of erotic dreams and crossed into the dark, and sometimes terrifying, yet always arousing beyond words. Like the one where I was alone on the hills beyond my home when a gang of bikers find me and gang raped me one after another….even the two gay members of the pack had me anally. Horrid? Yes and no. I woke with my clit on fire, desperate to cum…no, actually, on the very point of cumming. A single touch would have got me off. Right there.
Day eight dawned, with me now pacing my home like a caged tigress. Every time Alice came near me I wanted to ravage her….or for her to ravage me! Miss Brain filled me with images of Alice masturbating, something I know she does often, and in many places in the house. She has a high sex drive too. I pictured her handling my wet panties and realising there were far more than usual. Did she smell me on them? Did she rub one out holding my cunt cream against her own? Has she worn my used panties? I know Dani delighted in doing this, and I know Alice and Dani have compared notes on this too! Oh fuck!
Finally, I reached breaking point. A week of abstinence is torture for a girl who needs to cum several times a day! And so, I set the camera up as agreed, and lifted my skirt. Even knowing what I was about to do sent shockwaves through me and, slow as it was, the journey of my finger tips, through my panties to my clit forced me to fever pitch. Hardly had my fingers found my hyper sensitive button that my gut curled in orgasm. Liquid ran down my inner thighs as I squirted heavily, filling my panties to capacity and beyond. The waves caused me to double over and my other hand sought out my right nipple and pinched it hard. That set off more contractions, more trembling and profanity after profanity to leave my lips.
12 minutes. The video said 12 minutes of orgasm following crushing orgasm. I sent the file to Emily with the simple caption “You win”.
That night, with no reason for further abstinence, I fucked myself to sleep.
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