Welcome to Wip it Up, or though this isn’t a whip, more of a… you’ll see.
Following on from #MasturbationMonday’s excerpt, I’ve a little more to share from my current WiP about wine taster, Saffron and her distant lover, Gideon. He’s away, visiting a vineyard in Spain and she is back in the office. He’s tasked her with masturbating in his absence, while she’s at work, one orgasm for each day he’s away. She also must send him an email describing it in a suitably discreet style.
The next day, refreshed and determined to enter into the spirit of our agreement, I’d decided to go for an early morning attempt in the same location. I wore a skirt, skimpy panties and higher heels than my usual pair. Frank, upon seeing me in the communal kitchen, blinked at me a few times. “Not got visitors today, have we?”
“No,” I said, firing up the coffee maker. “Just enjoying the summer and feeling good.”
He eyed me suspiciously. “Good,” he said slowly, before departing with a mug of tea.
I left the coffee in the my office and snuck into the storeroom, switching on the light, it flickered for a few seconds, unsure – rather like myself.
Empty my mind. The words drifted back in my head. I picked up a bottle of Syrah. Little dust collected in the room and the clean glass reflected the overhead lights. I ran my finger around the bottle, feeling the smooth surface, the coldness. Could I? I chewed a lip, looking at the floor. I should have brought a cushion into the room, made myself comfortable.
Would Gideon find my idea amusing, weird or sexy? One way to find out. I hunkered down, lifting up my skirt and placed the bottle between my thighs.
“Oh shit, this is ridiculous.” I sprung up and went to put the bottle back. I stood, fretting, then I remembered the text Gideon had sent me not long before I gone to bed.
~ Dreaming about my sexy girl. Good night.
He could do it, why couldn’t I. I conjured him up in my head. His youthful face offsetting his frosty hair, the dark eyes like wide pools, a slender nose, the very slight dimple in his chin and the prominent Adam’s apple. The man wasn’t stunning, but neither was he plain. I could happily lie next to him in bed and go to sleep looking at that face.
With a hearty lungful, I grasped the bottle again. Back on my knees, I leaned back, lifted up my dress and slid the cold bottle down my belly and between my legs. The hard bottom rim touched my mound and I gasped at the iciness. A wavy of tiny spasms shot across my body and with it came an extraordinary sense of serenity. I glided the bottle down, pressing it firmly against my sex and closed my eyes. Nothing would stop me now.
I had to visit the bathroom before returning to my desk. Straighten out my dress, splash a little water over my heated face. The reflection in the mirror showed pink cheeks and bright eyes. I dashed back to my desk and fired up my email. I couldn’t wait to tell Gideon.
I selected a bottle of our finest Syrah. Deep crimson liquid encased in green glass. Careful not to spoil the label, I adjusted it so the cool glass skimmed my warm flesh. The coldness bit until the friction built up, bringing warmth to the glass. I uncovered my attribute – my most prized orifice, allowing the hard curvature of the vessel to come in contact with the warm, giving softness. Dangerous levels of sparks ensued as I indulged in the perfect match of wine and saturated substance.
I imagined you, my audience, resting in the sun, shirt unbuttoned to absorb the rays, your hair glinting and mouth supping on a delightful rioja. Oh how I love the picture.
My hands shook as I maintained a suitable rhythm. The use of the bottle necessitated me lying down, to ensure the best position for protecting the precious vintage and some how, my feet ended up flat to the wall and knees bent as I massaged the bottle around my moist aperture. I confess the sealed opening did slip about my lips, forcing me to sup on it. Such crude contact made me lightheaded and my calves quivered with the effort. The bottle nearly came to an unhappy end as I clung on to it, shaking, muting the perfect cry of pleasure as we slaked my thirst in a stunning climax. With me spent and breathless, it is a miracle that the poor Syrah didn’t shattered alongside me. The bottle is now safely back on the shelf.
The email bounced across Europe and the reply shuttled back in a matter of minutes.
~ Brilliant! How wonderful for you. I shall read this many times again tonight, alone and with a glass of Syrah to hand to help me enjoy.
I glowed, shimmering with my own self-satisfaction. Let him get off on that, I’d no qualms about him taking his own pleasure.
My mobile beeped and it was a text from Gideon. I tensed, wondering why he’d not replied by email.
~ Saffron. I’m impressed by your ingenuity. Tomorrow, would you kindly achieve two orgasms for me. Perhaps a different position and bottle this time? I’m sure you can meet my criteria.
The smiley face arrived a few seconds later as I gawped at the screen.
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