Fuck Button

FUCK BUTTON

We have this little like button.  And it does amazing things for us.  A fuck button?  A fucking awesome button.  No matter.  Call it what you will, but I want to press it again and a-fucking-gain sometimes.  Classically conditioned, I want my hit and then another and then another.  Repeat.

However understandable its use, it's strange how on each unassuming female form there lies under jeans and skirts the potential for euphoria, one's own, little poppy-production plant, just waiting for the power indicator to switch from red to green.  

I walk around most of the day aware of my hands and legs, eyes and arms, thinking nothing of what my body was built to do.  But this little like button and its intricate nerve system plugged into a surreptitious brain override function likes to shake me into recognition, beckoning me with memories of the fruits of the last time, the opportunity for fantasy, for release.  

It's sort of like having an interlude with one's self.  It grabs my throat and slides its grip down my chest, over my abdomen, and applies strategic pressure so I have no choice but to yield.  And I always do.  At home, in my car, in a bathroom at work.  My body has its way with me.

Usually, the impulse lingers until my fingers give way to my hard nipples.  I caress and gently squeeze this turgid flesh, rosy pink with blood-flow facilitating sensitivity, each burst of pleasure surging down the autobahn linking this flesh to my clit.  Concentrated attention given to each responsive peak floods, quite literally, my pussy and my hips dip and crest to meet each hot, lusty wave.  

In an effortless routine, one I know all too well, I'll slide, pushing gently but firmly, my dominant hand over my belly until it falls below my pelvic bone.  My fingers, instinctively, gravitate towards the opening of my pussy to feel the liquid effects of previous efforts.  Satisfied with this gleaning, my submissive hand continues to manipulate and tease the closest nipple, to cup the fullness of my breast.  It is at this point this little like button, the thing that initiated this base dance, is at its most fecund, filled with potential energy dying, killing to be kinetic.  My hand submits and I begin to twirl and swirl my fingers, wet with my cum, over my swelling clit.  As I apply varied pressure and speed, teasing myself (a seemingly impossible task), my thoughts drift to flashes of pornographic images.

A beautiful, toned brunette vixen nestled in between my legs growing wetter herself as she laps and moans hot breath onto highly sensitive nerve endings.  His hard cock's swollen head sliding from my clit to my taint and back again pausing for just a few painful seconds at my dripping cunt's entrance, daring me and himself to give into broken rules.  

My fingers move faster in an earnest effort to race to a finish line and then the control panel of this sublime circuit halts my hand and I breathe in slowly, deeply, moaning quietly, as my body falls back into its plateau.  Undeterred, but a bit more disciplined to prolong bliss, my left hand grazes my hip bone, jutting out just slightly beneath firm flesh.  It makes its way up through my abdomen's valley and climbs to ready nipples, blushing with prior use and begging for resumption.  I take in air quickly, and my lips part to release sighs and vowels.  My right hand takes the cue and journeys again to this like button, my clit, still unsatisfied.  As I rub again, the flashes return.

His uncontrolled hand comes down across my ass as he fucks me harder and harder from behind, grabbing my hips and slamming his cock into me again and again and again until I can feel him cum inside me.  Someone I've never met grabs his hard cock and strokes it up and down, slow at first, and then pumps feverishly until he climaxes, streams of hot cum falling on my breasts and stomach.  I finally can't take it anymore and pull his teasing hips and cock into my tight pussy and revel in how amazing his bare flesh feels inside of me for the first time, consequence be damned.  

Each perfect image burns into my mind and fuels my body's responsive climbing.  I go up and up, my hips grinding, my mouth cursing, my clit hard and swollen, my cunt wetter, my body hotter, everything approaching that immaculate inevitability.  I breathe in, each nerve in my being inundated with pulsating, high-frequency ecstasy welling, congregating around my clit until...holding breath...everything, all energy, expands and releases as my cunt contracts and spasms, my fingers pressed firmly, holding steady, as my hips ride out the residual ripples of intoxicating rapture.

Yeah.  That little like button.  Its powers boundless, lies in wait, untapped, begging you, then commanding you to push until satisfied.  But sated it will never be.