I'll never forget the first time I squirted. It was as if my body had been waiting for that moment, coiled like a spring, poised to release a torrent of pleasure. My partner, Jack, had been teasing me for what felt like hours, his fingers tracing lazy circles around my clit, his tongue lapping at my nipples. I was a live wire, sparking with tension, my senses on high alert.As he slipped his fingers inside me, I felt the familiar stirrings of arousal. But this time, something was different. This time, my body seemed to be building toward a crescendo, a maelstrom of sensation that threatened to consume me.Jack's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with intensity. "Let go, baby," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "Let me see you come undone."I felt the pressure building, a dam about to burst. My hips began to buck, my body arching off the bed as I felt the first tremors of release. And then, it happened. A warm, golden liquid gushed from my body, soaking the sheets, dripping down my thighs.I was shocked, amazed, and utterly liberated. I had never felt so alive, so connected to my own pleasure. Jack's eyes went wide, his face alight with wonder, as he lapped at my juices.In that moment, I knew I would never be the same. I had unleashed a floodgate of pleasure, and I was eager to explore the depths of my own desire.
Want to stay informed? Subscribe to Allison Turner's RSS feed.
per message