*Part 11 of an ongoing story…
True to her word, Carrie had made Saturday nights into “Endurance Night.” We’d sit down in the living room with a bottle of wine and as we did so, we’d start the clock. And we’d see how long I could last.
As promised, she tried to help. She’d tell me to stop if she thought I should stop. She’d say hands off if she thought it was necessary. I always did as I was told. Usually it was enough. We were getting good. I could routinely last four hours now. We’d gotten over 4:15 a handful of times. We’d even broken four and a half hours once or twice.
She was beginning to know me better than I knew myself.
It was Endurance Night again. My favorite night of the week. As always, we were in the living room. She on the sofa, me in the easy chair. Me naked and stroking, her dressed and coaching. “Dressed,” of course, just meant her usual oversized white T-shirt. What she called her “pajamas.” We had just started the clock when she spoke to me.
“I’ve been thinking, Jack. Maybe we’ve been going about this the wrong way.”
“What do you mean?” I was still warming up, slowly toying with my dick.
“Well, we’ve gotten to the point where four hours is no problem for you. We’ve even gotten to four and a half a couple of times.” I loved how everything about this was “we.” Somehow she’d turned masturbation into a team sport. Glorious. “But,” she continued, “I feel like we’re no closer to getting you to five hours than we were when we started.”
“I see…”
“I mean, you’ve held up your end. When I say ‘stop’ you stop. When I say ‘hands off’. you take your hands off. But I’m beginning to wonder if there’s an element of pacing here that we’ve been ignoring.”
“What do you mean?” She had my attention now.
“Well, normally, I don’t bother telling you to stop until we’re at least two, two and a half hours in. Maybe that’s a mistake. Maybe I should be slowing you down or making you stop earlier in the game.” The game! It’s like she was thinking with my own brain.
“An interesting theory,” I acceded.
“So tonight, I think we should experiment with that. It may be less fun for you this way. You might get annoyed with me. But if it gets you to four-forty-five, it’ll be worth it. I mean, won’t it?”
“Carrie, if you can get me to four-forty-five, I’ll do anything you say, whenever you say it.”
“That’s the attitude, champ!” She winked. And we were off to the Escort Bahçelievler races.
I’ll spare the details. But needless to say, she was spot on. That night she had me slowing down and speeding up, stopping and starting. She even had me taking breaks, standing up and walking around for a few minutes just to cool off. But in the end, we got there. Four hours and forty five minutes.
The last fifteen minutes were the hardest. We both knew we were in uncharted waters. She was as into it as I was, if that’s possible. Once we passed 4:30, she got up off the sofa and walked over to me, standing beside the easy chair.
“Give me your left hand,” she said softly.
“Huh?” I was in a haze at that point, using every breath to still my body, trying not to cum.
“You’re playing with your balls,” she observed. “You can’t afford that now. Give me your left hand.”
I closed my eyes and nodded, extending my left hand to her. She held it in her own.
“Slowly, slowly,” she whispered as she held my hand. “Breathe.”
I did as she said. Slowly but surely, the seconds passed into minutes. I was jerking, but slowly, gently, lightly; trying my best to keep it going. I looked up at her. But she was looking at her wrist watch. Silently.
How much longer, I wondered. So close! I knew I was close, but I wasn’t sure I could make it.
“How much longer, Carrie?” I pleaded.
“Sssh. Breathe,” was all she said.
I took a breath. I tried to relax even as I kept stroking. And then…
“Now.”
I looked up at her. She nodded silently.
Her permission given, I started jerking furiously. It didn’t take more than ten seconds. I exploded like I never had before, spraying cum like a fire hose. On my chest, my chin, my shoulder…her right forearm, as she held my left hand in her right.
For a moment, she just looked at me. In what should have been a moment of triumph, I was suddenly appalled with myself that I’d hit her with my load. The way she was looking at me. And then…
She burst into the biggest smile I’d ever seen from her.
“Dude, we did it!” She let go of my hand so she could high five me. She hit my exhausted right hand so hard, it was still stinging the next day. “We fucking did it!”
That ‘we’ again. I loved that so much. It really was a team effort. I never could have done that alone. I know, I’ve tried; repeatedly. BahçeÅŸehir escort
She pulled me up out of the easy chair and embraced me in a bear hug, paying no mind whatsoever to my cum covered torso or the splatter I’d left on her arm. She rocked me back and forth.
“We did it!” she cried again, holding me close.
And then, she broke the hug. But she didn’t let me go. She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye.
“I’m really proud of you, Jack. I mean it.”
I met her eyes.
“No, Carrie. I’m proud of us. We did this together.”
And we had.
____
I slept late the next day, exhausted from the night before. Nevertheless, when I did finally wake up sometime around 1pm, I opted for an easy in-bed wank session. I was enjoying a lesbian strap-on orgy when Carrie knocked on my slightly open door. (I never closed my door all the way).
“Come in,” I called. Carrie entered. I guess she’d slept late too, as she was still wearing her T-shirt pajamas.
“You got a minute?” she asked, oblivious to the fact that I was laying naked in bed, masturbating to lesbian strap-on porn.
“Sure, have a seat,” I said without interrupting my activity. She sat herself down on the end of my bed. As she did so, her eyes drifted to the TV screen where the porn was playing.
I realized then, that in all the time we’d be living together, she’d never actually watched porn with me. Sure, she had some idea of what I was into based on our conversations and our agreement that she could always check my browsing history. But we’d never actually watched anything together.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“It can wait,” she said with a wave, not taking her eyes off the screen. If she wanted to watch, fine by me. I was happy to keep doing what I was doing. After a few minutes, she spoke again, though still without taking her eyes off the screen.
“I wonder which of the girls is your favorite,” she wondered. There were four girls in the scene. “Wait, let me guess. You’re gonna say you don’t have one favorite. But you think the redhead has the prettiest face. And the curvy one has the best tits. Am I right?”
“No, yes and yes,” I answered succinctly. Two outa three ain’t bad, they say. But I was pretty impressed with how well she knew my tastes.
“Please specify,” she followed.
“Yes, the redhead has the prettiest face. And yes the curvy Bakırköy escort bayan one has the best tits. But no, I do actually have a favorite.”
“I’m gonna guess the one with the tits then.”
“Nope.”
“No? I’m shocked!” She did sound genuinely surprised. “Well now I gotta know! Which one?”
“The short one,” I said.
“The skinny one with the small tits?”
“Yup.”
“But she’s so not your type.” She looked closer at the TV, trying to see if she was missing something.
“Normally, that’s true,” I agreed. “But I love her attitude. And I absolutely love the way she handles that strap-on.” Up until that point, between the camera angles and the nature of the scene, her strop-on hadn’t really been in view. But just at that moment, as if on cue, she strode to the front of the frame, swinging her tool as she walked.
“That thing is huge,” gasped Carrie. It was huge. Twelve inches, easily; and it looked even bigger on her tiny frame. For a moment, the girl just stood there, hands on her hips, giant rubber cock hanging down, this bitchy look on her face like she was queen of that fucking orgy.
I was incredibly hard and stroking faster than I had been just a few minutes ago.
“Oh. Oh, my god,” whispered Carrie.
“Hmm?”
“I did not know that about you,” was all she said.
“Know what about be?” I pushed.
“Ssh, wait,” she whispered, patting my knee. Her eyes never left the TV.
Now the redhead girl with the pretty faced approached the strap-on queen. Slowly, she got down on her knees and began to take the huge fake cock in her mouth. I was going faster now.
“You wish you were the redhead girl right now,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question. “I had no idea.”
I didn’t answer. Carrie reached for the remote and turned the volume up. The skinny girl was talking dirty to the redhead, calling her names. She waved the other two girls over to her.
“On your knees sluts. My cock is big enough for all of you.”
The other two girls crowded around the redhead as they pushed their faces together, taking turns licking her giant rubber shaft, swallowing as much as they could. That was enough for me. I came pretty hard.
Carrie, only peripherally aware of me, kept watching a few moments longer before finally turning the volume back down. At last, she looked over at me.
“Wow,” she smiled. “Learn something new every day, huh?” I smiled back at her. “You never told me you were into that,” she added.
“You never asked,” I winked. “But anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Huh? Oh, it can wait.” She was smiling wickedly to herself as she walked out of my room, leaving me alone with my spent dick, the strap-on queen still owning my screen…