Girl Masturbates in Her Bed and Cannot Stop Until She Came 10 Times

Corinne lay alone in her bed late at night, the apartment silent around her except for the faint hum of the fridge down the hall. At twenty-two she should have been asleep, yet restless heat crawled under her skin and settled low in her belly. She wore only an oversized gray t-shirt that had ridden up to her waist, leaving her bare from the hips down against the cool sheets. Her clit already tingled, swollen and sensitive, and a slow slickness had gathered between her thighs while she stared at the ceiling trying not to notice. She shifted, pressing her legs together, and the friction sharpened the ache until her breath caught.

She had meant to ignore it. Morning came early. Still her hand slid down of its own accord, palm skating over her stomach until her fingertips brushed the soft curls and found the warm wetness waiting. The first light circle over her clit made her inhale sharply. Pleasure sparked at once, brighter than she expected, spreading in little shocks through her hips. She told herself it would be quick, one small release so she could finally sleep, and she rubbed slowly at first, lightly, the way that usually let her drift off afterward. Her body disagreed. The circles grew firmer. She spread her knees wide, feet planted, and pressed more deliberately, feeling how stiff and eager the little bud had become, how easily her finger slipped through the gathering slick. The oversized shirt bunched higher under her breasts. Her nipples tightened against the cotton, but she kept every bit of focus between her legs, hips already lifting to chase the pressure.

Heat coiled fast. She rubbed harder, breath shortening into pants, toes curling into the mattress. The orgasm rose without warning and broke in a sharp, helpless rush—her back arched, a broken moan spilling out, thighs shaking as she ground against her own hand. The peak should have ebbed. Instead the pleasure surged higher, locking her fingers in place. She could not pull them away. Even as the spasms faded she was already stroking again, desperate, the intense need refusing to let her stop, and she realized with a dizzy flush that one would never be enough.

Each climax left her gasping, chest heaving under the twisted shirt, yet the craving only deepened. Corinne shoved the fabric up to her collarbones, baring her breasts to the cool air, and pinched one nipple hard between thumb and forefinger. The sting shot straight to her cunt. She slid two fingers down through her soaked folds and plunged them inside, sinking easily into the tight, clutching heat. She curled them, searching, and when she found the swollen spot along her front wall she moaned openly. Her thumb stayed on her clit, rubbing in frantic little circles while she thrust deep, the wet sounds loud in the quiet room. Her hips bucked wildly to meet every stroke.

The second orgasm slammed into her almost at once. She cried out, walls fluttering, a fresh gush coating her hand as she kept moving. She did not pause. Pinching her other nipple, tugging and twisting, she switched without thought between frantic rubbing of the throbbing bud and deep curling thrusts that hammered her G-spot. Orgasm number three tore through her before she could catch her breath, her pussy clenching hard, slick pouring over her palm. Still her hand refused to still. By the fourth she was sobbing with it, back arching, free hand alternating between her breasts while two fingers drove in and out and her hips jerked helplessly off the mattress. The fifth followed so quickly the space between them blurred—she rubbed her clit in messy, slippery strokes until she shook, then plunged back inside to fuck herself harder, palm smacking wetly against her. The sixth crashed through in a long rolling wave. She moaned continuously, thighs trembling, ass lifting clear of the bed, body refusing to let her pull away. Sweat gathered at her temples. Each peak left her breathless and hungrier, the need sharpening instead of fading, her fingers and her pinching hand working in relentless rhythm while the room filled with the sound of her pleasure.

She could not stay on her back. With a ragged groan Corinne rolled onto her stomach, the gray t-shirt twisting around her ribs. She shoved one hand beneath her hips, palm up, and ground her dripping pussy down against it. The pressure on her clit was immediate and brutal. She rocked forward and back, ass flexing, rubbing herself furiously while her fingers curled up to slip inside whenever the angle allowed. Juices smeared across her hand and the sheet, the wet fabric clinging. She buried her face in the pillow and moaned into it, the sound muffled and desperate. Orgasm number seven ripped through her while she ground down hard. Her whole body spasmed, thighs clamping around her wrist, a hot gush flooding her palm as she kept moving, unable to lift her hips away. The pulses rolled long and deep. She cried out into the pillow, chasing every aftershock until they blurred straight into fresh hunger that would not release her.

When the shaking eased enough to move she flipped onto her back again and spread her legs as wide as they would go, knees falling open, heels digging into the mattress. Three fingers pushed into her soaked pussy at once, stretching her, filling her on a flood of her own wetness. She began to finger herself furiously, thrusting hard so her knuckles brushed her entrance, thumb mashing her throbbing clit with every stroke. The fullness and the direct friction made her vision blur. Her free hand flew back to her breasts, pinching and twisting both nipples in turn, the sharp ache shooting straight down to where she fucked herself.

She watched her own hand for a moment, mesmerized by the way the three fingers disappeared into her glistening folds, by the shiny swollen bud under her thumb. Slickness poured from her, coating her to the wrist, dripping onto the already damp sheet. The scent of her arousal hung thick and sweet in the warm air. Sweat beaded between her breasts and along her collarbones; strands of hair clung to her neck. Each thrust made a wet, filthy sound that only drove her higher. She twisted her wrist, dragging her fingertips firmly over her G-spot on every withdrawal, then plunged deep again. Her clit throbbed, almost too sensitive, yet she mashed harder, circling then pressing flat.

Orgasm eight hit like a punch and she squirted, a sudden hot spray soaking her hand, her wrist, her lower belly, and the sheets beneath her ass in a spreading dark patch. She screamed with it, back bowing off the mattress, inner walls clamping rhythmically around the fingers that never slowed. She kept thrusting through the release, thumb grinding in slick relentless circles, even as the pleasure bordered on too intense. Another smaller gush followed. Her toes curled hard enough to cramp. Then the ninth crashed right on its heels. Full-body spasms wracked her from shoulders to calves. She sobbed openly, hips bucking in jerks she could not control, pussy fluttering and gushing again so that juices ran down her crack and pooled under her. She pinched her nipples harder, gasping at the sting, completely lost, crying out with each shattering wave while her hand refused to stop.

She did not pause. The tenth built even while the ninth still shuddered through her oversensitive flesh. Three fingers plunged deep and curled hard, thumb never leaving the pulsing clit. She planted her feet wider, lifted her hips clear of the bed, and fucked herself with abandon, bearing down so the angle let her take them deeper. Pressure coiled impossibly tight. Her breathing turned to harsh pants. The sheet under her was cold and soaked, clinging whenever she shifted, and she loved the filthy evidence of how far she had gone. When the orgasm shattered she came with a raw broken cry, squirting in strong rhythmic pulses that arced across her thighs and flooded the ruined bed. Every muscle locked then released in violent spasms. Her pussy clenched and fluttered around her driving fingers, clit pulsing madly under the mash of her thumb. Wave after wave rolled through her. She kept moving, kept fingering, kept rubbing, sobbing and moaning as each crest made her gush a little more. Her breasts heaved, nipples tight and aching where she had pinched them raw. She was nothing but sensation, completely lost in the unstoppable self-pleasure, crying out again and again until the tenth powerful orgasm finally, slowly, began to loosen its grip and the peaks spaced themselves into trembling aftershocks.

Her fingers slipped free of her oversensitive pussy with a soft wet sound and fell limp against her thigh. Corinne collapsed back against the soaked pillows, chest heaving, the gray t-shirt plastered to her sweat-slick skin. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, still spread, cool air kissing the mess between them. The sheets were ruined. For long moments she could only lie there, heart hammering, a lazy exhausted smile curving her mouth as the uncontrollable urge at last released its hold. Even spent, a quiet plan stirred. Tomorrow she would start earlier, pull the buzzing toy from the nightstand drawer, edge herself for a full hour first, and see how far past ten she could push before her legs gave out. She was already scheming the next time, already imagining exactly how she would begin, and the thought made her smile widen as sleep finally pulled her under.