[Yasna]

Day 38 of my "no touch" denial experiment. My "shouldn't touch" experiment. I've slipped up again. It's been my third slip up. And this time I came dangerously close to the edge.

The last days haven't even been particularly difficult. A visit to the dentist followed by one and a half days of racking toothache: the perfect antidote to arousal; the absolute wrong kind of pain. Yesterday I had to work a double shift because a colleague called in sick. Almost nine hours of running to and fro in muggy and sticky weather. I fell asleep like a stone.

But with the end of my self-imposed "no touch" regimen approaching – less than two weeks! – I'd started to play mind games again. It seemed like my needy pussy was playing the role of the little devilish voice sitting on my shoulder, whispering its tempting ideas straight into my tenderized mind: "You're ten days over your past denial record. You've proved your point. Relax. Enjoy. You've earned some fun." – "Yeah, that would be nice, but we set out to do fifty days of no touching." – "Ah, forty, fifty, sixty. Who cares? You've said it yourself: you've exhausted the learning opportunities from no touching at all." – "Agreed, but we set out to do fifty days." – "Damn! You act like a Prussian civil servant, exerting absolute pointless conscientiousness." – "Maybe. But it's not about conscientiousness; it's about steadfastness and self-discipline. Fifty days it is." – "Fifty? That's totally arbitrary." – "Sure. But it's what I have decided." – "You're irrational!" For crying out loud! My pussy, this spawn of pure blind mindless need, was calling me irrational! It seemed to have the better arguments too. Had it monopolized the blood flow? Was there nothing left for my brain? I felt close to losing my mind.

I'm always horny when I wake up. But this morning I didn't wake up horny, I was roused from sleep by my horniness. My clit was buzzing again, ready to step it up a notch. My panties were soaked and clinging to my crotch. I curled myself up in foetal position and waited. While my brain seemed to be still half asleep my body was wide awake and my pussy was strung up to the max. 3:40 am. Fuck! I tossed and turned for a bit. But there was no chance of going back to sleep. I grabbed my mobile for the usual morning visit to the JuNO denial tumblr. No updates. I moved on to my second favourite tumblr, focussed on tease and denial. "Tease me till I'm in tears." What a suitable title! I was close to burst into tears already. What a stupid decision! Now I was presented not with motivation for denial, but with stories and pictures of girls being edged, licked, rubbed, fucked, vibed. Girls being reduced to screaming, howling, bawling somethings. That was too much to bear. "Just a little touch … I have to …" My hand slipped into my panties. It felt so warm and gooey in there. I pushed my middle finger into my pussy, pressing against its roof, feeling it clenching around it. I gasped. The first thing penetrating my pussy after five weeks except for a couple of tampons. I started to rub my sensitive clit with my thumb. Warm wet circles. My body tensed immediately. Holy shit! If I had gone for it I would have been able to orgasm almost instantaneously. I stopped the circling, just pressing my thumb against the throbbing nub. My middle finger felt already drenched. I moaned at its slightest movement. I slid it in, I slid it out. I wanted more. I resumed circling my clit. Again it didn't take long before I felt the edge approaching, unwanted and craved at the same time. For a while I alternated between rubbing my clit and gently finger fucking myself. Boy, oh boy, this was what I wanted and needed! I stumbled onto a post ending with "Worth the wait." Slowly the thought crept in: "Not today. Not like that. Worth the wait." This kind of cognitive dissonance spoiled the feeling of pleasure quickly. My circling and rubbing and sliding my finger inside my pussy became desperate, something I couldn't stop, but didn't want to go on either. My mind was blocked. The movement of my fingers became less and less powerful. My moans from pleasure turned into moans from frustration. I could still feel my pussy clenching and my clit throbbing at the moment I finally retracted my hand. It smelled like a game enclosure during rutting season. I sobbed a bit, staring into the dark. "Good girl," I thought and almost smiled while I tried to swallow my tears.

I craved that touching severely. So much so that I felt overpowered by my urge initially. But I crave to stick to my plans even more. This adventure in self-denial is driven by a strange synergy of my predominant submissive and my far less pronounced dominant tendencies. I enjoy to challenge myself and to set long-term goals. I rejoice in the feeling that I'm in control of a powerful drive (even if it's my own). But in the end I stick to it is because I enjoy it overall. Part of the joy is the heightened sense of arousal and sensuality that I have told about many times now. However, there is another important part that I might haven't recognized enough so far. I'm happy to surrender my sexual pleasure to an outside authority (even if it's my own). I craved that touching severely. But I want it to happen in exactly the same way I have planned, I have "allowed" myself. I don't want to be driven by my urge; I want my urge to be controlled (even if it's by myself).

Me and my pussy aren't on friendly terms right now. It's mad at me. Raging mad. It has been twitching and caprioling like an untamed horse the whole day and apparently tries to drown me in its juices. I'm exhausted. I'm having a hard time to concentrate on anything else. But I won't let my pussy's urges ruin all my progress. Maybe I am an authoritarian Prussian civil servant. Misbehaviour apparently only makes me determined to postpone stimulation even further. Don't you forget it, little bratty cunt! No cumming for you any time soon; you already know that. No edging either if you keep acting up. Forget about touching as long as you can't behave. You're such a lovely sensitive pussy when I deny you even the slightest touch. You wince in frustration. I wince in frustration too, but something in my brain jubilates. I want to be a good girl.