With a low buzz. Barely above a bee’s whisper; emanating from between my fingers, from between my pressed thighs. I press down harder, feeling the vibrations, massaging tender flesh, exciting a second heartbeat, stirring the latent warmth in my loins.
I turn the dial slowly, feeling the heat build, feeling the vibrations quicken. The buzzing increases, but it’s still soft. Soft enough not to overpower, intense enough to lock my attention and focus. I feel it start. The waves. Undulating waves, rising and falling, each wave riding the one before, rising a little higher than the one before, the friction deepening and filling me.
I press down harder, feeling the vibrations resonating through, down into the depths of my vagina, into my center, feeling the aching, yearning, the need to be filled.
Turned the dial again, slightly slightly more, teasingly and tortuously slowly. The buzzing rising in pitch echoes the rising heat waves, and I can see/feel it, shimmering mirage-like, that shining point. The point of no return.
There is no more hope. I turn the dial all the way, and my world becomes unfocused, pivoting wildly and centering at the vertex, the source of the crashing waves. My eyes roll, the vibrations shoot through and up my splayed body, my vocal cords vibrate in response and a guttural ululation tears out between my dry panting mouth.
It’s there, the apex, and I abandon myself to embrace the cresting sensations. It’s glorious, I want it to last forever and I want it to end, my spasming lips already too sensitized. It builds neverendingly, and as I come it feels like something is torn out of my groin, something lifted up and out from between my thighs and carried above the waves.
It is beautiful and pure, and ends all too soon, and I gasp at the harsh buzzing vibrations against swollen flesh. I turn the dial back down until it is a bee’s hum again, and sigh with bliss.