My Celibate Week

I do this sometimes, and when you’re as sexually active as I am, you’ve no idea how this sharpens the senses. Here’s my week in diary form.

Day one.

Decision made. Seven days of nothing! I feel….fresh…excited…..I’ve just stepped out of the shower, new resolution clutched firmly in my mental hand, and eager to see what the week will bring. Even Miss Brain is being compliant, well, up to a point. She has me pick out a pair of grey panties….unfair…she knows I find great undies sexy….still…I’ll show her.

Worked like a Trojan all day. Accounts (ugh) contracts negotiations (I enjoy them) and a quick tour round three of the pubs. Lunch in one of them (yummy) and a sense of pride that we are at 2:30pm and I haven’t rubbed one out yet. So far so good. 

Evening - I’ve been very good…focusing on my work, and not actively scoping out horny-looking people or situations. 

Day two. 

Ugh! Sticky girl this morning. Those grey undies definitely wouldn’t do another day, even if I was in that habit. I did once wear panties two days running, but that was for a boyfriend. He dared me, but mainly because he wanted them to wank with. In the end, he didn’t like two-day-old panties. Serves him ri…….bugger! First sexual thought I’ve had and it’s only day two! Up and vigorous shower. No…no rubbing off…though mildly tempted. And no peeing in the shower either…..since for me that’s a ‘sexual act’. I’d better stay away from the bidet too. Warm water squirted up my bum is definitely horny for me. 

Fuck she’s sexy! Oh fucketty fuck fuck arseholing bollocks! Watching a girl walk to college in a dress that is a) falling off her shoulders, and b) way too short. Instant image of undressing her to reveal her tiny boobs, and, I’m certain, shaven Twat. Fuck! Back in the house, find my trainers, and go for a long run. 

Ten miles later….hot, sweaty….exhausted, but definitely not feeling sexy. Phew! 

Afternoon. Can’t keep my eyes off Dani. Miss Brain definitely not do-operating….giving me Dani’s scent and her taste. Shake myself, and decide to go prune something. My gardener sees me with basket and clippers in hand and shakes his head. Wrong time of year, apparently. I look at my gardener. 70 this year….still….oh stop it, Anna. 

Another looong run in the evening and to bed. Too fucked up to do anything sexual. 

Day three

Ow! What happened to my leg muscles? Oh…yeah…right. Jeez….they hurt like a motherfucker. Must have run 25 miles yesterday, albeit in two goes. I’m physically fit, and years of ice skating have worked miracles, but….OW! Bath instead of shower this morning.

BIG mistake. Warm water soothed the muscles right enough, but fuck me….did I have to work to resist the temptation! Miss Brain is definitely saying “Alright, Anna. A joke’s a joke…now wank off.” The tap wasn’t quite shut off when I got in and it reminded me of being peed on. Shut the tap! Quick. I know….count backwards from 100 in 7s. 

Out of bath in ten minutes flat. I used the scratchy sponge today so now I’m tingling all over. Drive to remaining pubs. Pleased to see them full! Only 11:00am, but the beer gardens were full, and one of the pubs had four boats alongside. Genius idea of my head chef to put the kitchen fan exhaust onto the canal. “Have you ever walked past a canal boat when they’re cooking breakfast?” she’d asked me. “Well, why don’t we place a sign maybe a quarter of a mile down the canal, and vent our kitchen over it? Result, exquisitely cooked food tempting people in. Genius! 

Meet with computer guy about networking cash registers to my home. Means new registers, of course, but I’ll see every transaction. I sit opposite him mentally undressing him and not listening to a word he’s saying. I notice his wedding ring, but Miss Brain simply wonders if I’d taste his wife on his cock. Oh dear. 

Afternoon - first real rush of ‘do myself NOW horniness, accompanied by a flood into my undies. I felt it spread into the cotton and Miss fucking Brain filled in the scent and taste gaps. Fucker! No time for a run today. Phone call from Emily. Pleas God don’t let her tell me about sex with anyone last night! She doesn’t but even so, now I’m mentally undressing her! 

Go to bed that night desperate for a cum! Desperate for several cums, actually. 

Day four.

Or rather night of day three/morning of day four. Oh, what a dream! I didn’t cum in the dream, so I presume I didn’t cum in my body either, but wow….it was close. Miss Brain drew together all the ‘I wish’ things I’ve seen from school. All the naked girls in the locker room whose panties I have sniffed and wanked over, but never did anything with. Then she filtered them down to only the girls who had that  look….the look that says “I don’t….but I might.” It reminded me of a silly poem we used to recite. 

I like the girls who do

I like the girls who don’t

I hate the girls who say they will

And then they say they won’t.

But the sort of girls I like the best

And I’m sure you’ll say I’m right

Are the girls who say they won’t

But look as if they might. 

Well..that sort. The innocent lookers who, you can just imagine, rub one out secretly at night. Miss Brain gave me a procession of them and made me watch as they did themselves….and asked me to help. I woke up a hot mess and my clit was way past the tingling stage and was jumping, demanding attention. I damn nearly gave in too! After all, it’s my body…my clit…why shouldn’t I? 

Because I’m in charge, that’s why. Get thee behind me, Brain. 

Day five. 

Actually feel quite…serene…today. No anxiety physically. I even had a naked day. Pleasant walk in my meadow, running my fingertips through the flowers and tall grasses. Back to the house where Dani had opened up the pool and straight in the water. Fifteen lengths of not-too-strenuous swimming. Breast stroke (feeling water go inside me) front crawl, back stroke, and a lazy floating paddle that moves me from one end to the other slowly. Get out of pool, count to ten and around 8 feel that trickle of water girls know only too well after swimming. Instantly reminds me of peeing myself, clit jumps smartly to attention and says “About fucking time!” Sorry dear…not yet. Drying cabinet is purée luxury. Any moment I’m not actively concentrating on something is now diverted into matters sexual. Snapshots of past activities flicker through my consciousness. Miss Brain is getting desperate. It is a battle of wills now. Me, determined to make the week….Miss Brain equally determined to make me cum. The clash of the titans. 

I realise I’m walking sexily. Hmmm. There’s a more pronounced wiggle of my hips, and I realise, not for the first time, why women walk like this. Not only does it attract men (and women), it also adds a little pressure to the clit too. I wonder if a good wiggle-walk could actually get me off? 

Computer guy comes to add a ‘blade’ to my server. Fuck me, I could do him right here, on the concrete floor of the utility room. I also notice Dani’s laundry hamper is not only here, but open too. A couple of pairs of her panties lie on top. Now I’m tempted! I find myself actually reaching forward to rub his crotch from behind, but I stop myself. A welt of fluid gushes out of me. Since I’m only wearing a dress, it begins to make its way down my inner thigh. I make some excuse and leave him to it. If I stay i’ll definitely fuck him. Or sniff Dani’s panties.

Or both. 

I go for a long run in the afternoon, judged not so much by distance but by time. Two hours out, two hours back. I make it back in less time than on the outward leg. 

Fall asleep before my head hit the pillow. 

Day six.

If Day three was Ow! Day six starts with sharp pains in my legs to the extent I can’t move! Dani brings me my tea and immediately sees the pain I’m in. She grabs some lotion and starts massaging my legs which is on the one hand exactly what I need, and on the other, the last thing I need. When she’s eased the steel knots in my calves, she moves onto my thighs, and the wetness simply pours out of me. I am a hair’s breadth away from asking her to finish me off. My hand even rests on her left knee as she massages me. Worse still, she’s obviously feeling horny because the says a simple “Mmmmm” as she rubs ever higher up my thighs. She slowly parts my legs which, of course, reveals my visibly damp panties. Now she’s cheeky. “Hmm. Someone’s ready for a cum.” She drapes the back of her hand over my crotch which almost makes me leap from the bed, throw her to the floor and straddle her face….but no…I’m determined. I explain the position to her…how I’m going for a week of abstinence. She smiles, and giggles. “Yeah…good luck with that.” But bless her, she doesn’t tempt me further. 

Even dressing is now a sexual act. The very feeling of clothes on my skin is erotic, and my nipples, come to that, my entire boobs are like live wires connected directly to my clit. 

Outside, in the village, I see sex everywhere. The couple walking past the post office holding hands makes me wonder if they’ve just ‘done it’. The single girl walking down the High Street makes me wonder when she last did herself, or was she even now leaking semen into her panties. That half smile on her face….what’s that all about? She passes me and I notice the engagement ring. Ah, but was it her fiancé who had filled her, or a mystery lover? 

Two girls walk past me from the independent High School. No pink shirts, so they are below 17. They look maybe 15 or so. Their conversation is muted and there are little surreptitious giggles. Definitely sexual conversation, then. 

Instantly I imagine them walking back to one of their houses….grab a drink, into one of the girls bedroom where the conversation develops. The hysterical outbursts of giggling become fewer and the gaps between sentences grow longer. One of them reaches up her skirt. The other follows. Soon they’re down to bra and panties. Which one makes ‘the move’? Probably the slightly less vociferous one. Maybe they’re lying on a bed, both quietly masturbating and a hand drifts over. The other girl’s hand falls away and she worms her hand into her friend’s panties. Not long after, they’re naked and kissing as they masturbate one another. 

I snap back to reality and I realise I’m staring…and I’m damn close to cumming in my panties! I’ve done that before, you know….thought myself to orgasm. 

The whole of the rest of the day and evening are sexual thoughts, images and scenarios. I even go for a long walk through the public footpaths and bridleways that criss-cross the land here. The heavens open, and I’m caught in a downpour of rain. I take refuge in an ancient flint barn with half its roof missing. I’m tempted beyond belief. Miss Brain urges me to do everything I find erotic.,pee my panties, take them off, masturbate….imagine I’m being screwed by a crusty old farmer with an immense dick. The temptation is savage….so savage that I scream out loud. 

That night, I can’t even sleep. I lie awake staring at the clock. It will soon be day seven. Ah, but then I said I’d go seven days…that means I can’t wank off tomorrow. The clock turns midnight, and I know I have another 24 hours to go! 

Day seven. 

Fuck off! Ok? Just…fuck right off! I’m tense, wound up, feel angry, almost anything and everything pisses me off and….well…just fuck off! 

I shower, and decide to beard the lion in its den. I choose a black thong. Black pantyhose, black trainer bra. I change the pantyhose for black hold-ups. I can’t decide between the two. The hold-ups look sexier, but I can rip the pantyhose later. No, hold-ups it is. I want to look like, and feel like an absolute whore. 

White dress. Yes, yes yes! I know! Wrong on every level. Already the panties are ruined and I haven’t even got downstairs yet.

Someone has fiddled with the clocks…or the server. Each minute feels like a fucking hour, and by lunchtime, I’m certain time has slowed right down. I was in the orchard looking at a respectable distance at my beehives because I was told male bees are kicked out of the hive, and that there are undertaker bees who bring dead bees to the entrance to the hive and shove them out. Turns out it’s true. Two girls plod slowly down the footpath on their horses. Instantly, I know precisely what their panties look like right now. Miss Brain insists that one of them is wearing pink undies, and the crotch is not just stained, but wet. That gorgeous, slightly off-white cunt cream that only comes from a sexually aroused girl. The other, I am informed is wearing green panties, similarly stained. I watch as they rock gently in the saddle and lock in to their crotches as they press…or are pressed…unnecessarily firmly against the pommel of the saddle. No wonder so many 13 year old girls want a pony! I can’t make out what they’re saying of course, but Miss Brain supplies me an image. She tells me the girls rode on a couple of miles, then tied their horses to a tree.they slid their jeans down, and their panties to their knees, squatted and peed in the woods.  Each noticed the stains in each other’s panties, and each knew…just knew how horny the other was. Again I snap back to reality and realise I’m almost there again! 

The sexual thoughts are incessant now. One moment I’m masturbating, right here, right now. Another, I’m being taken from behind over a hay bail. In yet another, I’m being deliciously raped….in both holes. I can’t stand this much longer. I take my dress off and stand in my meadow in my whore’s underwear. I scream at the top of my voice “Will someone just FUCK me? For God’s sake! I’m right here!  Fuck meeeee!” I feel better after my scream. I put my dress back on and walk back to the house. 

Sitting at my desk in my den, I have my knees spread wide. I feel the thing itself tight down the crack of my arse and hope to God what little is left of the material is doing the best job it can of containing the wetness that is just pouring out of me.

00:01am day eight. 

I’m still in my whore’s underwear. My thong is pulled aside and the squishy, sloppy sound that my fingers are making as I finger fuck myself adds a delicious soundtrack to the building orgasm. Miss Brain is overwhelmed. She simply can’t lock onto one particular image or fantasy…or memory, for that matter. She gives me one image after another and each build me closer. I’m not there are quickly as I thought I might be. I thought I’d cum pretty much instantly, but apparently not.

In the end, I settle on my two horse riders. Their panties covered in cunt cream, and after their mutual piss in the woods, they stand. With wordless understanding they reach for each other and kiss while their hands explore each other’s sex. The pure innocence of the move makes me cum. 

It is some time later before I return to anything one might loosely call ‘reality’. Everything hurts. My leg muscles my bum cheeks, my tummy. The legs haven’t recovered from the running and the tension I held them under while I came hasn’t helped, and yet the pain enhanced the orgasm significantly. 

The purple sheet underneath me is soaked in a huge circle under my bum, and in a line down to the end of the bed. I squirted and wet myself when I came. Of that I’m certain. I had a butt-plug in, and when I pull it out, even my bum hole feels like it’s just been fucked. 

Psychologically, I’m in a different world of mellowness, peace, calm. I feel like I’m wrapped up in velvet and all is right with the world. 

Sleep drifts over me and gently closes my eyes…..the smile, still on my lips.