She chokes out a whimper, taking in a deep breath as her hips rotate, trying to get used to the intrusion. It's been a long time, months, maybe, but Santana knows that it'll feel good again, it always does. She bites her lip, moving the vibrator deep inside herself, jaw falling slack once she flicks her thumb over a switch and the vibrations inside her triple in speed, her hips half bucking off the bed.
Santana gasps as she moves the toy within herself, pressing it firmly against her g-spot. The vibrations run through her whole body, causing her to shudder in pleasure. She runs her thumb over the switch again, groaning in displeasure as she realizes she has the vibrator's settings up as far as it will go.
She allows her head to roll back on the sheets, neck bared as she moves the toy faster, breathing out in low gasps from the back of her throat, matching the rhythm. Her free hand tightens around the sheets even though her body is screaming for her to touch, anywhere, just touch, but she refuses, wants to make this last. She wants to come just from this, the heavy feeling of the toy inside her, wet and pulsing with her hips. "Yes," she sighs out, barely audible, as her hips begin to tremble with each short thrust.
She loves this, loves the way the toy feels inside her. She would never admit to anybody, never admit that she craves moments like this, where she can fuck herself nice and deep, in the privacy of her own room. Santana shudders as she presses the toy in deeper, her fingers pressing against her center as she buries the whole length of the toy inside herself. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, the familiar coil of release building low in her stomach. "No," she whimpers, fighting the urge to come. She wants to drag it out, wants to keep this feeling as long as she can, because she knows once she comes, the feeling and the moment will be gone.
But her control is minimal, with having gone so long without this, this delicious feeling inside of her, stretching herself, and letting the vibrations take over, that she can feel the edge coming. And it's good, it's so good that her eyes squeeze tight, her mouth falling open in a silent whine as her free hand finally flicks at her neglected clit. "Oh, oh, oh," she chants and with a final flick and press at her g-spot she's coming, so hard that her back arches off the sheets, her gasps turning into short whimpers as she continues to rub her clit, the toy still on the highest speed.
She's panting as she tries to recover from her orgasm, fingers still massaging a highly oversensitive clit. Her body jerks as the last waves of her orgasm fade away, the buzzing of the vibrator still deep inside her body echoing through the room. Her breathing slows to a somewhat normal pace, her hand falling from her clit. Santana flicks her thumb over the switch of the vibrator, pulling the toy from her abused entrance hissing as it slides out. Her hand reaches around the bed as she looks for the box she hides the vibrator in, knowing she threw it somewhere on the bed before she started her little tryst. Santana groans as she realizes she's actually going to have to sit up and search for the box. She sets the vibrator on her nightstand, bracing her hands on the mattress as she hoists herself up into a sitting position only sitting up for a split second before a feeling she knows all to well shoots up her spine, the brunette letting out a whimper as she realizes one orgasm isn't going to be enough to soothe the urge she feels inside herself.
"Fuck," she mutters quietly, sitting up straighter to see if it's just a trick her mind is putting on her but there it is again, that flare of want, sending sensations through her stomach down to her center. She's still so wet from the lube and she can feel it running down her thigh, but instead of being disgusted it just turns her on more, her fingers trailing down without second thought to tease at her entrance once again, taping the pads of her fingers where she's soaked. The moan Santana lets out is so loud she almost frightens herself, licking her lips as she slides in a finger, laying back down on the bed as she groans, her free hand running over toned abs and coming up to squeeze her breast and tease an already hard nipple, preparing herself for round two.
It frightens her a bit, how it only takes seconds for her to be turned on again. One finger turns to two as she slides her middle finger in, scissoring them even though she know's it's unnecessary. She whines as she crooks her fingers up, the tips rubbing against her g-spot, hips jerking as she rubs along her inner walls. A third finger slips in only long enough for Santana to feel the pleasure of the stretch, and then she's pulling her fingers out and reaching blindly for the toy she'd set on her nightstand. She almost sighs in relief when her hand wraps around the vibrator, the rubber of the toy slick with lube. Santana rolls over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her knees, one hand allows her to keep her balance as the other works back, pressing the blunt tip against her soaked entrance. She shudders as she rubs the toy over her opening, enjoying the feeling of the tease nearly as much as she enjoys the feeling of the toy inside her. Santana bites her lip as the toy sinks in deep again, her thumb pushing against the switch, knocking it up to the highest level immediately. She cries out, biting her lip as the sound echoes through the room. Her hips sputter as the vibrator hums inside of her.
The feeling comes back even faster than before because of how sensitive she is, the cum from before still a little wet on her inner thighs and she moans, rocking back on the vibrator like it's all she needs, not able to hold back these small, choked sounds coming from her throat. Santana fists at the sheets with her free hand so she doesn't lose her grip, her eyes shut as she fucks herself on the vibrator, slow and hard just how she likes it. She can feel the waves of her orgasm slowly arriving, making her stomach shiver and her hips shudder but she refuses once again to let go so easily, biting at her bottom lip when the feeling gets so intense that she feels like she might scream, the vibrations so strong on her g-spot that it almost hurts.
"Mm, fuck," Santana whimpers and she opens her eyes, looking down to see where the dildo is sliding in and out of herself, speeding up her hand. She leans forward as much as she can, her head pressed against the headboard of her bed as she moans, her free hand untangling from the sweaty, dirty sheets to play with her clit, dragging her index finger over the pink, sensitive flesh.
Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. She feels her orgasm forming hot and low in her stomach and she's conflicted with the need to come mixing with her desire to draw this out as long as she possibly can. She decides on the latter, stopping the movement of her fingers on her clit. Realizing the new position she's in is knocking her off balance, Santana shifts back so she's sitting back on her thighs, lifting herself up and down as she fucks herself with the vibrator. Her jaw falls slack, whimpers and moans clawing their way up her throat as the new position allows the toy to reach her deeper than it had before. Santana's eyes drift down to where she's quickly rubbing her clit, moaning as she takes it between her fingers and pinches.
The image itself is almost enough to take her over, the fact that this was the second time she was coming in barely an hour driving her crazy. She hadn't felt this lack of control over her body since she was seventeen, and she remembered back when she used to do this almost every night, fuck herself with a vibrator until she was biting at her pillows to keep quiet. Santana moaned, taking advantage of being able to be as loud as she wanted and this angle was so much better, the vibrations so deep inside her that she was losing control instantly, her breaths coming in hiccups as her head flew back once more.
Her body shakes as she comes down from her second orgasm, her muscles aching at having to put forth so much effort in so little time. She'd think it'd be easier to do this with time, but in reality, it'd been easier when she'd been younger. Maybe it was simply because her body didn't bend like it used to, resulting in her having to put in more effort to hold herself in a position that allowed her to fuck herself as deep as she wanted to.
Santana let her hand drop from the vibrator, the toy sliding out on its own. She shuddered as the lube dripped down her thighs, trying to wipe it away with her hand, only to make more of a mess as the lube was smeared and mixed with the cum all over her hand.
Santana sighed, flicking the vibrator off. Her eyes strained in the dark as she searched for the box she kept her toy in, giving a sound of relief when her eyes landed on the boxy shape in the darkness. She grabbed the box, opening the lid tucking the vibrator inside, knowing she'd have to clean it in the morning. Santana set the box on the floor next to her bed, shoving it under and out of view. She flopped back onto her pillows, snuggling in, as she hoped, for the night. She peeled back the sticky covers, promising she'd do laundry in the morning, as she settled into the warmth, not caring that she had cum and lube crusted down her thighs. She hummed quietly, eyes drooping as she tried to drift off to sleep. Her lids closed for only a second before that familiar pang shot up her spine, her eyes shooting open. "Please, no," she whimpered, burying her face into the pillows. She clenched her muscles, hoping to will away the urge so she could try to get some sleep.
A low sigh slips from Santana's throat as she walks into the kitchen the next morning, the feeling sending sparks up her stomach. She felt like she was on fire, her thighs in pain from the amount of stretching her muscles endured the night before. She leans against the counter, eyes closing and breath hitching. She feels wired, like nothing could be enough or take this inner pain away, even after using her vibrator in the shower only minutes ago.
It frustrates her to no end, the way no amount of orgasms can take the urge from her body. Every nerve she has is frayed, her body actually feeling somewhat numb from the overstimulation. She can feel her voice slipping, feel the way her throat is getting rubbed raw from the way she'd been constantly screaming and moaning in pleasure. She can't seem to comprehend why the urge won't go away, even after she's come six, seven times already. She'd been able to feel the vibrator's batteries running out, feel the power stuttering away as she pushed the toy to its limits. She never knew somebody could over-sex themselves, but over-sexing was a very real, very blatant reality that Santana was facing at the moment.
But she couldn't stop.
She slumps down to the floor and tears burn at her eyes, desperation flooding her body. She just wants relief, wants the urge to just go away. She feels like she's done everything she possibly can, but yet the urge still burns low in her belly, the arousal still lurks in every dark crevice of her consciousness.
She wishes Brittany were here, wishes she didn't have to go through this on her own. She knows Brittany would be supportive, would help her through it, would give her whatever she needed to be given-
Whatever she needed.
Whatever she needed.
She scrambles onto her hands and knees, turning and bracing her hands on the counter as she claws her way back onto her feet. Her legs feel like rubber as she makes her way into her bedroom, where she knows her cell phone is resting on her nightstand. Her nose crinkles as she enters, the scent of sex and sweat overpowering.
Santana lets out a sigh of relief when she finally has her phone in her grasp, dialing Brittany's number with unsteady fingers. She holds the phone up to her ear, desperate whimpers and whines escaping her as the phone continues to ring. "Please, please," she croaks, fingers clenching around the iPhone.
"Hello?" Brittany's drowsy voice answers, and if she could, Santana would've sang with happiness.
"B, please," is the only thing Santana finds herself able to croak out, her voice breaking and pulling up in all the wrong places; she sounds like somebody took sandpaper to her vocal chords, and she knows she could be completely fucked because her voice is her living, but in all honesty, the only thing Santana can think of at the moment is the ache of the urge and getting Brittany over to her house so the dancer can fuck her hard and deep and - as Santana so fervently hopes - make the urge finally go away.
"Santana? San, are you okay?" Brittany's voice is worried and Santana can hear her frantically running through her house to get to Santana as fast as she possibly can when Santana gives a pathetic little whine, and bites out a barely audible "No."
"I'm coming over right now, okay? Just stay where you are. Wait, you are home aren't you? Fuck, please be home-"
"'Britt." Santana croaks.
"I'm sorry, I'll be there in a few minutes, okay? Just, just stay where you are and don't move." And Santana whines as the line goes dead.
Santana sets her phone back on her bedside table, crawling over to her bed and flopping onto it, face down, another wave of arousal shooting through her body as the movement puts the slightest pressure on her center. She whimpers, shifting so she's propped up with her chest down, knees up and under, and ass resting in the air.
She doesn't bother with lube as she's still wet from the last time, her fingers reaching towards her center as she enters herself again. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she works her fingers inside herself whining as she hopes desperately that Brittany will be the one that's able to make the urge finally go away.
Brittany all but sprints down her driveway and into her car. She has no idea what could be wrong with Santana but she seemed like she was unbearably distressed and in pain, and Brittany isn't sure how she's even able to drive there with the way her mind is going crazy. The worry is killing her, and awful things run through her mind; what if Santana hurt herself so badly she couldn't move? What if someone had died? Brittany's car couldn't move fast enough.
The ten minute drive to Santana's house Brittany makes in five. Her car screeches to a halt as she slams on the breaks in Santana's driveway. She just barely remembers to turn off the car and take the keys out of the ignition before she's unbuckling the seatbelt and bolting out of the car, sprinting up to Santana's door. She's shaking, having had time to ponder all of the things that could've gone wrong, all of the ways Santana could be hurt during her drive there. Five minutes may not have been a long time, but it was long enough for Brittany to imagine the worse. Brittany digs into her pocket for the spare key she has to Santana's place, a stream of obscenities spilling from her lips when she realizes she forgot to grab the key on her way out. Frantically, she pounds her fist on the door, hoping that Santana can at least fight through whatever pain she's in to get up and answer the door. "Santana? Babe, please, it's me. It's Britt. Open the door, baby please."
When she hears nothing but silence, Brittany finally begins to panic. She slams her fist on the door over and over again, pressing her ear against the wood to see if she can at least hear Santana's voice to know if she's okay. "Babe, babe, come on, please open the door, please? Yell if you can hear me, anything."
The silence is almost deafening inside the house and Brittany takes out her phone, wondering if she should call for help, do something drastic like call the police or maybe Mama Lopez but her head snaps up from her phone the second she hears a small whimper coming from inside the house.
"Santana? Santana, it's me," she all but yells, her hands pressed on the door and then it's swinging open. Brittany steps into the house without second thought, reaching out for Santana but she takes a step back once she sees the condition her girlfriend is in.
"San, oh my god, what..."
Brittany just stares, seemingly unable to find suitable words to ask what the fuck happened to you? because Santana simply looks wrecked.
Santana's hair is wild, and messy, she can see the sweat on her forehead. The brunettes eyes are wild, almost like an animal's. There's deep bags under them, and Brittany knows just by that that Santana hadn't slept at all last night.
Her eyes make her way down Santana's body, her neck and torso covered in vicious, red lines. Had she been scratching herself? Brittany's eyes follow the lines, down down down, until the red starts to be covered up by what looks like a clear slimy substance. "What the-?" Brittany starts to say, but her voice teeters off when she realizes exactly what Santana is covered in.
Cum. And lots of it.
Brittany's breath hitches as she goes lower and 's cum dripping down her legs. Brittany barely notes how Santana's wearing a pair of her boy shorts that she'd left behind one night, or how she can see Santana's rock hard nipples poking at the flimsy fabric through the wife beater. "Babe, what the hell happened to you?"
Santana steps forward at that, her legs visibly shaking like she can't keep herself up, and Brittany closes the door behind her so she can hold her arms out. She finds that she doesn't need to, because as soon as the door is locked, Santana is on her, hands cupping her jaw and bringing their lips together, moaning against her as their bodies touch. Brittany can feel Santana's heart beat against hers and she moans low in her throat because she can't help it, and that small noise makes Santana let out a choking noise that sounds like a sob, wrecked and broken and Santana digs her nails into Brittany's back, bringing their bodies flush together.
"Oh, oh fuck, Britt, fuck," she's panting, pressing wet kisses all over Brittany's neck and jaw, pushing her back until she's against the wall. Brittany can barely think with all of this, it all happened so fast, and then her hands are on Santana's hips and pushing her away, keeping her at an arms-distance. Santana whines so loud it's almost a scream, her fingers fisted in Brittany's shirt.
Her eyes are darker than Brittany has ever seen them, orbs of deep chocolate brown, and lust-filled and Brittany is panting just looking at her, licking her lips. "San, what - what the hell is going on?"
Santana's expression is almost feral, like she could rip Brittany's throat out with her teeth just for stopping her. She's making this sound, low in her throat, a growl almost, fingers digging into Brittany's shoulders. Brittany waits for a verbal answer, yet Santana gives her nothing but a slew of noises, ranging from growls and whimpers to keens and whines.
"Are you going to answer me?" Brittany insists, hands squeezing the flesh of Santana's hips.
Bad idea.
Santana lets out a gasp, ripping free of Brittany's hold, and then the brunette is everywhere again, and Brittany honestly doesn't know who the hell Santana is right now, or what the fuck's gotten into her.
"Santana, Santana stop please," Brittany tries to push Santana off her, but the brunettes arousal and strength puts her at a disadvantage. She settles for pinching the underside of Santana's arm, and that seems to work. Santana yanks away from where she was latching onto Brittany's neck, her eyes still darkened by lust, but now filled with hurt as well. "Please baby, just tell me what's going on."
Santana whimpers, shaking her head. She opens her mouth, the only sound coming out nothing but a pathetic croak.
"You - you can't talk? But you called me-"
Santana whines, taking back Brittany's attention. "I need you to try to tell me what you need me to do, please," Brittany begs, taking one of Santana's hands in both of hers. Santana yanks it away, but before Brittany can be hurt, she's using that hand and her other to yank down her shorts, Brittany's breath catching in her throat as her eyes land on Santana's glistening sex, just dripping with arousal. The brunette steps quickly out of the discarded underwear, lunging forward and plastering herself to Brittany's body again. Brittany tries to speak, but Santana's lips pressing hungrily against her own keeps her from doing so. Santana pulls away, grabbing one of Brittany's hands, bringing it down to her center so that the blondes fingers graze over her clit. She whimpers.
"You- God San, you're s-so wet," Brittany says and Santana groans, grinding her hips forward into Brittany's body, and then suddenly, Brittany gets it.
Brittany can't help but moan, her fingers running over Santana's entrance where she's so wet and open and ready. "Jesus, babe, you want me to -?"
She can't finish the sentence because Santana's moan cuts her off. She grinds forward into Brittany's fingers like she's dying for them, breathing haggardly against her neck, nodding her head desperately. Her whimpers are barely audible but Brittany can feel them against her throat. Brittany swallows hard, not knowing how to react to all of this.
"Santana... I. D-Do you really want me to? You want me to fuck you?" she asks and it's a simple question but it seems to do something to Santana because she moans, her teeth biting into her girlfriends neck and Brittany gasps, leaning her head back on the wall and sliding a finger inside of her. Santana seems to squeal, her lips moving but words not coming out as she tries to pull Brittany impossibly closer, whispers of "Yes, yes, yes," barely making it out of her mouth.
Brittany is hesitant, as she's normally the submissive one in the relationship, but Santana is just acting so whiny and desperate, fucking forward on the finger Brittany has inside that any objections Brittany could've voiced just melt away.
Santana gives a keening whine when a second finger sinks in deep, and Brittany can't help but think about what she'd been missing for so long. She couldn't help but think about how it would feel to have her cock buried balls deep inside of Santana's tight heat. The thought alone was enough to make her moan, the sound emitting another slew of noises from Santana.
"Bedroo-?" Brittany goes to ask, but she's cut off when Santana slaps a hand over her mouth, grabbing her arm and towing her to the floor of the foyer. Her fingers slip from Brittany's body as they tumble down, a short whine escaping both of their lips.
Santana lays her on her back and straddles her hips, grinding her hips down, whining as she finally gets some friction on her aching center. Brittany's hands raise to grab her hips, her own canting upwards to grind into Santana's center. The brunette lets out a somewhat pained whimper, Brittany stopping her movements. "I- Are you sore?" Brittany asks, and Santana just nods, a silent plea in her eyes for Brittany to disregard that fact, please. "I don't want to hurt you though-"
Santana gives a broken noise, grinding her hips downwards to show that she can take it, that it's nothing she can't handle, that she just needs, that the pain doesn't even register in her mind.
"You're sure?"
Santana nods, leaning down to kiss Brittany wet and dirty, mouths open and tongues clashing. Brittany reaches around from where her hands are anchored on Santana's hips to reach down tease her entrance, two fingers slipping in again, down to the last knuckles. Santana moans, arching up, the fingers sinking in impossibly deeper as the brunette fucks herself down onto them. She gives a pathetic little hiccup that gets stuck in her throat when Brittany experimentally crooks her fingers upwards, the tips pushing against Santana's g-spot.
Brittany can't help the gasp she lets out, her fingers pressing at that spot again just to watch Santana drop her head down, her matted hair grazing over Brittany's chest. She can't help it then, the sides of her mouth twitching upwards in a small, sweet grin as she moves her fingers deep inside of Santana humming low in her throat as her girlfriend whimpers above her. The amount of control she has over Santana is mindblowing, and she can't get enough of it. Every time her fingers flex inside Santana, she can feel Santana rocking against them, wetness coating her fingers and stomach.
"This feel good? Hm?" she asks quietly and Santana moans, nodding her head as she licks her red-bitten lips. Brittany continues to fuck her slowly until Santana is half-sobbing, begging quietly with her mouth slack for something that Brittany wants to hear her say. "Mm, what? You want something?" she asks and Santana opens her eyes, shivering.
Brittany can feel every part of Santana's body on top of her. Shes so hot, and wet, and perfect, and Brittany licks her lips, sliding in a third finger. When Santana's eyes fall shut again from pleasure, Brittany says, "You want to be on my cock like this? Hm? Wanna ride me, baby?"
Santana's panting as she shakes her head. Brittany looks at her, surprise marring her features. "No?" Brittany questions and Santana finally looks up at her, mouthing 'no' over and over again.
"Then what do you want, San?" Brittany asks, her fingers slipping out of Santana's center as she brings them up to fondle the brunettes perky breasts. Santana cries out, the sound hoarse, yet it still seems to be one of pleasure, and it gets Brittany even hotter under the collar. "Tell me," she orders, giving a rather rough squeeze to what she holds in her palms. Santana letting out a sound that can be describe as nothing other than a sob.
Santana begins to rise, pushing herself off of Brittany's body, the blondes expression turning into one of confusion as her hands fall away from Santana's chest. "Santana, what-?"
Santana presses a finger to her lips to silence her as she continues to peel away, whimpering as she turns away from Brittany on her hands and knees. "San, babe, what are you doing?"
Santana says nothing, just continues to position herself until she's propped up with her chest down, knees under and up, ass held high in the air. Brittany swallows at the new position, her cock swelling uncomfortably in the jeans she realizes she still has on. She sits up, her hands jerking down to pop the button on her jeans, stopping midway when she hears Santana croak something she can't quite make out.
"What did you say?" She asks, rolling onto her knees to run a hand down Santana's sweaty back. A shiver runs through Santana's body at the touch.
"Like this," Santana manages to finally get out, Brittany's hand stopping on her lower back. "Fuck me like this."
Brittany drags her fingers down Santana's back, licking her lips. "Jesus, babe," she says and presses himself against Santana's back, leaning over to press kisses down her spine. Brittany's hands squeeze at her hips and Santana whimpers, nodding against the carpet and pushing back against her. Brittany groans, gripping at her ass with both hands and squeezing, biting at her lower back.
Santana all but growls, rocking back against her. Her voice is barely there but she manages to whisper, "Britt, fuck, please. Please fuck me."
Her babbles continue, quieter than ever, as Brittany lets go of her to finally unbutton her jeans, sighing once she's free from the confines. She slides off her briefs and moans when she rocks forward, her cock sliding between Santana's thighs, rubbing against her center, bumping her clit with the head of her rock hard cock, and making the girl gasp, her fingers digging into the carpet.
"Oh, shit, fuck me. Mi amor fuck me, please?"
Brittany groans as the words "Mi amor" slip out of Santana's mouth. Santana knows how much that turns Brittany on, even though most of the time, Brittany is the one blabbering the words in the throes of pleasure.
She rips her shirt over her head, shuddering as her naked body adjusts to the cooler temperature of the room. Her nipples immediately getting hard. Santana is making all of these noises below her, little whimpers and moans as the movement of Brittany taking off her shirt jostling her in a way that caused the dancers cock to bump against her center. Brittany licks her lips when Santana's breathing picks up, the blondes hands dropping to grip the Latinas hips as she rolls her own forward, cock rubbing harshly against sensitive skin.
Santana's babbles pick up again, though they're still only half-audible. Brittany can only catch bits and pieces, but what she does catch is nothing but 'fuck Britt, fuck me fuck want your cock need it fuck please please.'
A shock of lust flares through Brittany's body, one hand slipping from Santana's hip to grip the base of her erection. She rubs the tip over Santana's dripping center, moving her hips forward slowly, the very tip of her cock breaching the tight ring of muscle before she's pulling back out, and Santana legitimately begins to sob.
"Please, please don't tease me," Santana sobs, hiccups wracking her body, the lithe frame shaking violently under Brittany's fingers. Brittany feels bad in a second, regretting that she'd teased Santana like that, knowing how absolutely desperate Santana was right now.
"I'm so sorry baby," Brittany apologizes, and then, in a move she hopes will get Santana to forgive her, she bucks her hips harshly forward and she's all in at once, her moan drowned out by the absolute scream of pleasure Santana lets out.
To be continued...