Massage
My raised hips trembled without rest. From lips pursed into a foolish little circle, soft moans of “oh… ooh…” spilled out in fits and starts.
Unlike the way it had been when I was male, there was no process of ejaculation or release. Even after reaching climax once, my flushed body showed no sign of cooling down.
Squelch…
“Ahnn.”
The sticky wet sound that answered the moment I touched myself. My pussy was already soaked through, so thoroughly that there was hardly any need to touch it further.
Driven by a restless heat, I brought my fingers back to my mouth once more.
“Mmm. Slurp, suck, hnnn…”
Every time the wet sucking sounds pulsed through my bones in time with the rhythm, the excitement only swelled higher. Ever since that first orgasm, my head had been cooking hot; coherent thought was nearly impossible. The world in front of me still spun, objects blurred as if through fog.
The long aftershocks of climax still lingered in every corner of my body, refusing to let the heat fade.
I rubbed my thighs together a few times, then began grinding my breasts against the floor. Each time the weight of them crushed my nipples flat under gravity, a strange pleasure too hard to put into words flooded my mind.
Emboldened, I carried the limp fingers back down to my pussy. A few light taps against the clit that peeked out—tap, tap—and my hips immediately shivered, the crest of climax rising again.
“I—I—I…!”
The pleasure climbed faster and harder than I expected; the fingers I’d been sucking slipped free. My tightly closed thighs convulsed, not knowing what to do with themselves.
The afterglow of the previous orgasm had left my body so sensitive it was almost unbearable.
I hadn’t come yet, but it was obvious that one more tap there would have sent me helplessly into a second climax.
The clitoris… I can’t.
The clitoris. A perverted little organ with no function whatsoever except the production of pleasure. Its destructive power was terrifying beyond anything I had imagined.
Touching it any more was starting to scare me. Whatever kind of body this was, it seemed to have no threshold at all. The pleasure just kept climbing without end until it almost hurt.
I slid the hand that had been playing with my clit a little lower, hunting for a gentler kind of pleasure. Softly sweeping down the plump mound and tracing the slit in the middle sent a chill racing through my pelvis, as if cold air had touched bare skin.
“O-oh…”
Goosebumps rose; my head lifted of its own accord. My wildly shaking pupils rolled up a fraction. From lips parted in something like wonder, my tongue peeked out half a finger’s width.
It was just the right amount of pleasure. Not as sharp as touching the clit, but with my body this sensitive, this was perfect.
I pressed my index finger gently against the crack between the plump outer lips and rubbed it slowly back and forth.
Squelch…
The slick juices that had soaked out caught on my finger joints and made sticky little sounds.
“Haa…”
My sigh stretched out long and languid, as if I had sunk into a hot bath.
This… feels good…
I could feel the muscles that had been wound tight beginning to melt into pleasant looseness. My raised shoulders sank; my half-open eyelids drifted shut.
Slick, squelch, soft…
The wet sounds laced with my own juices gently tickled my ears.
Every time I stroked the slit, something warm and drowsy seemed to bloom inside me. It felt almost like I was massaging a pussy I had already worked half to death.
It wasn’t only physical pleasure. There was a small mental satisfaction too. Embarrassing to put into words, but it was a little like the pleasure of a Tetris piece dropping perfectly into place. Every time my finger settled into the crack between those plump lips, that kind of quiet fulfillment arrived together with the sexual heat.
Stroke… stroke…
I sandwiched the outer lips between index and ring finger and gently rubbed the vertical line with my middle finger. Just touching those pure white, prettily closed mounds felt decadent. Eileen’s pussy lips were shut so tightly that not a glimpse of the bright red inner flesh or folds showed. Every time that place was rubbed open a little and then closed again, it felt like I was dirtying a clean field of snow.
Suddenly the mirror set in the middle of the bathroom caught my eye.
Reflected in the glass was a beautiful naked body. A pretty blonde girl with her face pressed to the floor, hips raised high, rubbing her pussy with a dazed expression.
“Haa…”
No matter how many times I looked, the face was beautiful.
The features went without saying, but the body itself was sculpted to a perfection that almost felt obsessive. I had never taken special care of it, yet the skin was flawless, without a single blemish. The gentle, kind-looking features were the sort that easily won favor from both men and women.
Any man who saw this body would feel its pull.
And I was no exception.
The gap between the gender of my mind and the gender of my body. It had only been a little over a month since I began living in this form. I had more or less adapted to daily life, yet I still couldn’t feel as though this body and face truly belonged to me.
It moved under my control, yet it still felt awkward, like someone else’s.
Perhaps because of that, every time my eyes met the face in the mirror I felt a strange, almost romantic attraction.
And right now, the girl in the mirror was swaying her hips, wearing an expression, a posture, and performing an act that looked for all the world like she was seducing a man.
Getting aroused by the sight of my own body, my own face, and the rapturous expression on it felt bizarre.
It was exactly like becoming a narcissist with terrible taste.
The story of Narcissus from Greek myth came to mind. He fell in love with his own reflection in the river, leaned closer, and drowned.
My Intuition had been sounding the alarm for a while now. Keep chasing this pleasure and one day you’ll sink into the mire. Take the fate of that mythological figure as a warning.
Squelch, soft, stroke, stroke…
…Who cares? It feels this good. Something that feels this good can’t be bad. Useless Intuition. All it ever does is manufacture a sense of crisis for no reason.
I was staring into the mirror, absently rubbing my labia with my middle finger, when a tiny bit more pressure slipped into the touch. A minor mistake in force control. The stimulation that followed, however, was anything but minor.
Squelch…
“Hagh…?!”
My thoroughly soaked, slippery insides offered no resistance; the middle finger slid right in.
The carefully trimmed nail lightly scraped the inner folds as it passed.
My hips jerked hard, unable to process the sudden rush of pleasure.
“Haaah, hah… Ahhh♡”
The moan that left my mouth was so sweetly melted I could hardly believe it was mine.
In a fluster I carefully moved the finger.
Squelch.
“Haah…?!”
My shoulders hunched and my thighs clamped shut. This body was far too sensitive for careless movement.
I couldn’t bring myself to move the finger that had gone in, nor to pull it out. I had to stay perfectly still for a long time, waiting for the surging pleasure to settle.
“Hnn… Mm, haah, haa…”
The girl in the mirror was breathing hard with her tongue out, face flushed scarlet as if she had a fever. Those half-lidded eyes were devastating.
Unfortunately the posture made perfect stillness difficult. Face pressed to the floor, hips thrust high—naturally the hand touching my pussy had to be raised high as well. My arms and legs were starting to tingle. The limit was approaching.
Even staying still was agony. How long was I supposed to keep this up…? My pussy was melting my insides with need. After thrashing about for a while I finally pressed the tip of my finger deeper into the passage.
“Haa…♡”
The promised pleasure arrived without fail, making my eyelids flutter. The face of Eileen reflected in the bathroom mirror looked exactly like someone who had been given a dangerous drug.
All the effort I had put into calming my body went to waste.
Squeeze, squeeze♡
The tight inner walls began to grip my finger with frantic strength.
A heavy, pressing sensation settled in my lower belly. An unbearably restless, stifling feeling.
The empty space inside my pussy felt desperately hollow. A craving rose, slow and insistent—something, something thick and large, to fill me completely. I could feel my womb throbbing, urging me on.
I decided I no longer cared. It felt as though an overdose of the brain’s own narcotics had melted my mind into soft mush.
I began moving my finger more actively. About two knuckles deep, I found a slightly rough patch on the upper wall of the vagina. I gently scraped it with my fingertip, then pressed down firmly.
“Nngh, ah, ah, aah…”
Pleasure sparked in rapid succession. My vision flashed white for an instant and returned. I kept the finger moving without pause.
Squelch, squelch, squelch…
Never rough—always soft.
The juices that kept leaking out had already run past my thighs and begun to wet the floor.
Every caress of my pussy produced lewd, wet friction sounds that tickled my ears. The idea of holding back my moans no longer even occurred to me.
What I had been doing until now was, in a word, edging. Stopping just one step short of climax and repeating only the vague stimulation. Stopping when I was about to come, stroking again once it subsided.
I had stupidly kept that up for well over ten minutes, and my body had become as sensitive as it could possibly get.
The moment I started moving my finger in earnest, the climax rose at once. The leisurely, gentle stimulation gradually turned more intense.
There was truly only a little left. Not even a full minute had passed since I began the real stimulation. The summit came into view. I moved my finger even harder.
Squelch-squelch-squelch-squelch…!
“Nngh, ahn, ahh, hnn, ah, aaa…”
It’s coming, I’m going, I’m going…!
My hips bucked on their own; my pelvis trembled violently as it swallowed the tension. My stiff nipples scraped the floor tiles again and again, wiping away soap foam. My shoulder blades drew together and my shoulders spread wide of their own accord. One final firm press against my clit—
“Nngh…!!”
A massive wave of pleasure tore through my mind. After all that long torment, the payoff was sweet. I clenched my teeth so hard I couldn’t even scream. Moans battered against the back of my throat, desperate to escape between my teeth.
It felt as though electricity was racing along every nerve circuit in my body. White fireworks exploded in front of my eyes. My shoulders and pelvis shook so hard it was almost dangerous, finally collapsing the posture. The hips that had been raised high sank down.
My blurred reflection showed in the steam-fogged bathroom mirror. I couldn’t control my back or waist. Sprawled on the floor in an ugly heap, I arched and flattened like a fish dragged onto land. Every muscle seemed to have turned involuntary. Nothing in my body moved the way I wanted it to.
Even after the orgasm subsided I remained trapped in its aftershocks for a long time. Strength had left my legs; even sitting up felt like too much.
“Haah! Hah, haah, haaaa…”
For a while I simply lay on my back staring at the ceiling, breathing hard.
“Fuck.”
Only when my mind cleared did the full extent of the disaster I had caused come into view. The shower head lay on its side, spinning freely and spraying water in every direction; the shampoo, body wash, lotion and other small bottles I had left on the floor had been flung into every corner of the bathroom by the thrashing of my limbs at climax.
A curse rose unbidden.
Crazy bitch. What kind of person masturbates this violently?
By the time I had cleaned the bathroom and finished my shower, the clock had already slipped past midnight into the small hours.
I changed into pajamas, lay down on the bed, and then, unable to hold it in any longer, let out a scream.
“Aaaagh…!”
I clutched my head in self-loathing. The crash that arrived late was enough to drain even the will to live.
Tomorrow’s sparring class suddenly came to mind. It was already one of my weaker subjects, and now I had completely failed to manage my condition. Burning through all my energy the night before like this left me with nothing but a heavy, gloomy feeling.
I tossed and turned for a long time in that pit of self-reproach before I finally managed to fall asleep.