This is a story about a young woman. You have met her before, though you didn’t know it at the time. The first time you saw her, you were too distracted by one of her friends. We’ll make up for that now by giving all our attention to her. This young woman is dark of skin with long and silky raven-black hair. She’s wearing a dress of gold and green, complemented by large golden hoops in her ears. The dress is cut deeply and a glittering gold necklace draws the eye to her generous cleavage. It is short as well, leaving her long legs bared on this warm spring day. I could go on and on, telling you about the softness of her skin and her perfectly manicured nails, but I think you’ve got the idea. This lovely young woman’s name is Sophia. Let me tell you a little secret about Sophia, something … intimate. There is a little box on Sophia’s night stand at home. Inside this box you can find two large marble-sized balls, connected by a string. Today however, this box on her night stand is empty.
Lets start the story when Sophia meets up with her friends for an afternoon in the city. Now, when someone were to look at Sophia as she made her way to her friend in a local shop; they might think her slow measured walk is caused by the high heels she is wearing. We – knowing about the empty state of the box in her room however – know better. Her friend might have noticed something of course, knowing how well Sophia normally walks in those heels. But she seems distracted herself, absorbed in the mundane task of choosing which wooden spoon to buy of all things. Her second friend is distracted by thoughts of her own but that is another story for another time, and thus Sophia’s secret is safe.
As the afternoon progressed, the little balls Sophia ‘carried’ with her, kept her constantly distracted yet alert at the same time. With her mind elsewhere, she had to try her best to seem supportive and interested when her friend told her about her problems in college. Later, during drinks the pressure of the balls had her on the edge of her seat. Her friend was bragging about a date with her husband, a seemingly very romantic picnic at the nearby nature reserve. The thought of the things she wanted to do if her boyfriend ever took her out into the woods, combined with her already increased state of arousal made her sweat. Ignoring her friends as they spoke of food that would be fitting for a picnic, she sent a quick text to her boyfriend.
“We’re at the bar. I can’t take it any more. The restroom should be private, if I have your permission?”
Nervously she waited for a reply. Minutes passed and Sophia tried to distract herself by participating in the conversation. She knew he had read her message, he was making her wait. You might think that would make her upset. But the opposite is true, it only made her need greater. It took ten minutes before she got a reply from her boyfriend.
“No. You do not have permission. But if you really have to, you can take them out and have a fifteen minute break.”
Now, you might be wondering, was Sophia asking her boyfriends permission to orgasm? You would be right. I could even tell you it hadn’t been her own choice to open that box before she left home.