Those must have been the longest four days of my life. The four days leading up to my turn at the bet, and let me tell you. They were not easy. Not being allowed to let myself go, having to hold it in. I almost lost it on the third night, as I writhed in bed, teetering on the edge for what felt like hours, just trying to think about anything else. Anything else in the world.

Day 4, the entire day at work was an absolute slog. I had to replace my underwear when I got home, as the pair I had been wearing all day was sodden with sweat and precum fluids. April's day was also long, and the news that she had been called to stay a couple of extra hours on that day, of all days, simultaneously enraged and excited me. I took over the cooking so that food would be ready when she finally arrived home. As she slinked through the door, my insides exploded with desire at the sight of her. She was dressed in a crisp pink dress shirt with poofy sleeves, tightly tucked into a pleated skirt that came down to just above her knees. She met in the middle with a firmly-strapped wide leather belt, which when I put my hands on it to pull her in to kiss me, I could feel her body heat baking, even on the outside of the belt. Finally, she had on thick black tights, frilly pink socks adorned with white ribbons that were too cute for this world, and t-straps with a 2-inch heel. Also of importance were the white silk gloves that she wore on her hands. More on those later.

As our tongues rolled over each others', my heart pounded, with most of that blood instantly being pumped to down below. The girth of my expanding mound grazed up against the front of her skirt, which caused her breathing to go all fluttery. It was so cute when she did that. I grazed my fingers up the back of her head, holding her against me as we continued to bathe in each others' warm salivations, neither wanting to be the first to let go. Sometimes, in the middle of making out, we would both stop moving and just soak in each other for a minute. It was so hard for me not to want to grind my hips up against hers, because I knew if I started doing that, she would more than likely have me on the floor in a matter of seconds and we'd be finished. I desperately wanted her to just demolish me right here, right now. But I had to hold it together.

We finally released from each others' grasp, and spent a few precious minutes just gazing into each others' eyes. Her eyes were freshly glazed with moisture, which could have been due to any number of things. I'm sure she was tired from her long day, or maybe she was just that happy to be here with me and sometimes she would just get overwhelmed by her feelings. Whatever it was, I loved her all the more for it, and I started to plant a row of soft, sweet, tender kisses across her eyes, taking her tears onto my lips. My hands continued to alternate between her hair and her searing hot belt as we moved back in for round two of making out, but I had to pull away after a few seconds because I realized I was already on the brink of blowing my load. And with today's plans, we couldn't have that. April pouted as she pulled away and turned toward the kitchen.

The sound of her dainty little feet tapping on the kitchen floor as we prepared the plates was driving me absolutely crazy, keeping me on the brink for at least a couple more very uncomfortable minutes. April typically stayed in her work clothes until it was time for bed, shoes included, and I have always loved that about her. She absolutely refuses to compromise on her appearance. Her shirt is always freshly and crisply tucked in, buttons done up and tie in place. She typically wears a t-shirt underneath to avoid unsighly sweat stains. In the summer, her undershirt is often soaked by the end of the long day, and the tails of both of her tucked shirts are completely slathered in wrinkles that have also been temporarily ironed into her skin by her tight belt. I asked her about all this once, and she told me she just likes to feel pretty. Such a sweet, innocent answer, but I'm not about to question further. Sometimes, she lets me unbutton a few of the buttons in the middle of her shirt, so that I can reach inside and put my hands just a little bit closer to her tiny waist. The air inside of her dress shirt is always very humid and stifling, undershirt hot and damp with her exhaustion, leaving me to wonder how she manages to hold together all day like this.  I was dying to ask her to let me do that right now, but I was so fucking horny that I wouldn't have been able to control myself and I knew it.

On weekends, April's dress style isn't nearly as stringent, but if she is wearing a shirt of any type (other than a sweater, obviously), she always keeps it firmly tucked in for the full day, with belt. If she does wear a sweater, she always has something on under it, tucked in. Tights are always a must, no matter the season, whether she's wearing a skirt or pants, though 90% of her fits include a skirt. I guess she just never really let go of her Catholic school upbringing routines, but again, it is her choice, and with how much it turns me on, heck if I'm going to bring it up. Just letting her be her cute, sexy little self with no questions is enough for me. She doesn't attend church any more as an adult, which is fine since I don't either. But occasionally, she still likes to dress up on Sunday by rocking a full skirt, suit jacket, dress shirt and tie. And heels, of course. All day, until bedtime, as per usual, although every month or so, we can't help ourselves and we end up getting it on three or four times over the course of the day, with her staying in the suit and heels the full time. On these days, April looks more and more disheveled (and hotter) as the day wears on, no matter how much she tries to hide it. By bedtime, she rides me so hard that I can barely stay conscious.

I know this is taking up a lot of real estate, me talking about this. I've just been looking for a girl like this all my life, and I can't believe how lucky I got to finally find this one. So just let me indulge in one final paragraph. On weekdays, by the time April finally relieves herself of her sweaty, torrid outfit and undresses at night, her smell is opaque, and finer than anything I've ever smelled in this world. All it takes is for her to loosen her tie and unbutton the top button of her shirt, and the smell instantly assaults my nose. But even still, I could already smell her immensely now, even through her clothes, as she had been working so hard for so long, while staying firmly dressed up, baking in her full work attire for over 12 excruciating hours by this point, with so many more to go before relief was coming. I struggled to ignore the continued rhythmic pulsing of my desperate want for her. God, I needed her so much right now...

As we ate, we discussed my upcoming stream. She continued to tap her feet, knowing how it made me feel. I had decided that Balatro would be my game of choice, which felt slightly unfair as it didn't take as much moment-to-moment concentration as Stardew Valley did. But also, I had felt ready to pop in a matter of seconds pretty much all day, and I wasn't going to be as good at hiding it as she was. We both knew it.

The rest of that evening leading up to the stream was a blur. Before I knew it, I was just there. Sitting right there with the game opened up, ready to hit the "Go live" button. I wasn't going to mute the music in the game for the people watching, but we had also agreed that it wasn't exactly the most ideal or sensual music for what we were doing either, so we were going to keep the speakers pretty low. I was surprised at how normal I felt, but I had also spent a good portion of my life pretending like my feelings didn't exist. That is one barrier that was sure to collapse the moment she got her hands on me. Or should I say, her gloves on me.

Speaking of which. Okay, so this is probably the best time to elaborate on why I keep bringing it up. Aside from the usual couple shenanigans, April loves treating me to the occasional hand job. As you do. Usually she wears her silk gloves to work on those days. A non-verbal way of communicating to me what is .. you know. Coming. That night. When she gets home, I have to wait and endure the anticipation all evening until we finally go to bed, unless of course she gives in a few hours early, which does occasionally happen. Most days, though, it's bed time. By this point, she will have been wearing the gloves for anywhere from 14 to 18 hours. 

She will reach over and, you know, do her thing. With the gloves still on. Their silky, slippery surface will brush softly over me, causing my nerves to go off like firecrackers. And just when my will to hold back is nearly spent, she will stop and finally remove the gloves. Her hands will be warm and damp, and the moment that the bare skin of them makes contact with me, the first thing they've touched all day, there is no hope whatsoever of me to hold back. No scenario or dream that I could have possibly imagined in all my 27 years would have ever turned me on as much as this did. At that point, I am at her mercy, and she will work me over all the way until every last drop has been spent.

So where was I? Right. Streaming. I should have known better to think about all this while I was live. I was about two hands in and already playing like crap, and down below, I was harder than I was prepared to deal with while trying to do math at the same time. She had not even removed my pants yet. We were ten minutes in. The last thing I wanted to do was splooge without even giving her a chance to contribute, so I started to concentrate harder on the game. The game was all that mattered. I typically didn't talk a lot in Balatro streams, so nobody suspected anything at this point.

As I continued to push myself to play, April leaned in and discreetly started to undo my belt. She pulled the slack far enough so that the latch fell undone. The belt clinked softly to the side, and she then undid my pants. My monster was raging underneath as she slowly pulled the front flaps away and brushed aside the remains of my wrinkled shirt tail. I had been trying to follow in her footsteps with staying dressed up all day, so I wasn't used to my clothes being this stifling by the time I finally took them off. But I also wasn't used to how freaking good it would feel when I did take them off. After I was out in the open, so to speak, April backed off and started to reach up her skirt, as she too was starting to feel some amorous inflammation.

Time rolled on, and my mind started to shift back to the game. I won a round, lost a round, and even managed to clear a challenge with some lucky joker RNG. But knowing little about Balatro, April might as well have thought that it was my skill that caused me to win, and I guess something about that got her excited, because she began to reach over and get started on me. The moment her silk-clad fingers grazed the bottom of me, I let out a surprised "Oh." I bit my lips instinctively afterward, realizing I was on the ropes. Luckily, I was a pretty decent actor too, and followed up with "Wait, no, that wouldn't actually do anything, would it." As if my "oh" had been me thinking I had an idea for a setup in the game. Didn't change the fact that her first touch had already put me right back into go mode, and my stomach started to tremble along with my hands.

I tried to hold it together, but it couldn't have been more than two minutes before I felt myself reach the cusp. April had had plenty of practice with me before, though, and she backed off accordingly when she knew I was getting too close. Which didn't necessarily mean that she was in total control. It was still on me to hold myself together, to relax my abdominal muscles and not allow myself to release. My gameplay once again turned to crap. I accidentally discarded a hand that I had meant to play, a straight flush of all things. It certainly wasn't the first time I had done that, and so I was reasonably able to laugh it off. But I was barely even aware of what I was doing. It's like I was playing a role, controlling my body from the outside, not actually in there, because the thoughts of my aching need would have just been too suffocating.

I didn't feel that I had recovered enough yet when April reached in for round two. I felt the momentum of the imminent explosion barrelling forward a full second before she even made contact. Never mind when she actually did get there. This was it, wasn't it. I barely murmured a swear under my breath as my innards screamed for relief, massive plumes of hunger billowing up inside of me. I stopped everything, closing my eyes and just trying to think about nothing. Just remove myself into the blackness, into the void. None of this was actually happening. "Hang on a minute, guys," I said as I reached up with my finger and scratched my eye as if to remove a piece of eye crust. 

I was at what felt like maximum firepower for the longest time, just forcing myself not to move. My thighs shook against my will, but I was still in control. Miraculously. April realized how close she had pushed me, but even she knew better than to say anything. Even so much as the sound of her voice would have catapulted me right off the edge, and I desperately needed to just keep still. I opened my eyes again and started to play the game as my craving slowly dissipated. "I think I got it," I explained, still feeling as though it wasn't even me saying the words. 

The only other thing I didn't dare do right now was to imagine how she must have felt being in this position last week. If I let my brain even so much as slightly brush up against the thought of how long she lasted, how long she endured this terrible agony, that would have been it for me. 

Time turned to a blur as she went through another two cycles of torturing me with her silken hands, which were by now hot and sticky with the fluids of my precum. I barely even have any memory of what I did for all that time. Just put cards down, forced any words out that were even remotely topical, much less coherent, and forced a straight face. The straight face was definitely the hardest part. As I closed in on Ante 7 of a run that I was basically destined to win based on the setup I had, April slid a post-it note across the desk, making sure to stay out of view of the webcam. On it, she had written, "Hold on, baby. Just one more." My God, her handwriting was so cute.

And with that, my thirst started to intensify again. Just off of handwriting. Are you serious. Whatever I had been doing to mentally remove myself from this entire situation, well, that had just shattered into a million pieces. The note (and the handwriting) brought back all of my clarity, and every last smidgen of those pesky feelings that had come with it. As her hands lovingly caressed me, more softly this time (perhaps out of sympathy), I found myself right back at the edge again and clamoring by the toes to hold on to the pointy tip of the cliff like I was Wile E. Coyote or something. My actual toes, meanwhile, were also scrunching as the balls of my hot, tired feet peeled off and stuck back to my muggy, sweat-soaked socks. Another byproduct of staying dressed up for what was now 15 hours and counting. But strangely, it only made my arousal even more intense. I was sodden from head to toe, down to an inch of my will and struggling to even hold on to that.

I could hear April trying to hide her breathing as she climaxed next to me. I so desperately wanted to help her out. I was definitely within seconds of being able to completely dismantle her, but I couldn't. I felt my juices continue to dribble as I waited for what felt like an eternity for her to finish up. I finished my round, got the "You Win" screen, managed something resembling a convincing smile (I hope), but that was the moment when I realized my time was running out. At least when I was still in that run, I had an idea of where I was going, but now, starting a new run? It was a lot harder to commit to a game that you had just started than one that you were just coasting through the middle. I reluctantly started a new run, not sure what else to do. 

And that's when I noticed April peeling her gloves off. They were thoroughly sodden by her thick broth, much of which had seeped through to her hands underneath. The thought of how good this was going to feel caused another immense explosion inside of me, and the heat went straight to my tip. Again, I had to close my eyes and think about nothing just to hold it back. I don't know how the chat hadn't said anything by this point, but we were both so caught up in the throes of pleasure that I doubt either of us would have even noticed if somebody had said something.

She slowly leaned in, and I braced myself. I tried to play the game, but I just couldn't. I honest to God, I just couldn't. As her warm, wet hands surrounded me, everything else just disappeared. I closed my eyes with my mouth agape as I felt the last trickle of my waning will fizzle out. I didn't care about the game. I didn't care about the bet. I didn't care about anything. I just needed this. I needed this so desperately. Her fingers stroked and rolled over me time and time again, and I felt my muscles tighten against my will. In one last ditch effort, I reached for the mouse and attempted to even look at the screen, but I couldn't. God only knows what sort of expressions crossed my face during the next few minutes. The unstoppable deluge of my orgasm came barreling forward and exploded out of me like an unbridled volcano. There was no game. There was nothing anymore. Just me, and April, and my pulse, my aching pulse. 

April's smooth, wet hands continued to massage me, milking every delectable drop from me, one after another. The creamy, rhythmic sloshing sound of her working me filled the room.  God, it felt so good. Nothing in the world had ever felt this good. I hyperventilated loudly, my eyes bulging as I felt every ounce of my insides extract in rhythmic, heavenly, hot gushes again and again. April's hands slathered me from bottom to top with every new splish of broiling, buttery love I could muster, but where I would normally have expected to start slowing down, my rich hot cream continued to surge in abundance. One foamy gush led to another, and I just wasn't stopping. I don't know if it was the stress of knowing that I was live in front of a few hundred people, which at this point I was barely aware of, but I was just not stopping. I knew without the shadow of a doubt that I had never come this hard in my life, much less for this long. Usually, I was done a lot sooner, but April wasn't letting up on me, and my bubbles of frothy love for her continued to gurgle and boil up from inside of me. I was drenched in my own sweat at this point, still occasionally spewing up more love as her hands continued to glaze my weary member for all it was worth.

I couldn't look at the chat. I was too embarrassed. I simply moused over to "End Stream" and clicked it. I had already lost the bet, that was bad enough. I didn't even want to imagine what was going to be in my inbox for the next week, or for the rest of my life for that matter. Four full minutes had passed since I had passed the point of no return, and yet there were still at least one or two more tiny rounds of slush left, which April was all too happy to squeeze out of me. 

I leaned toward April and slowly kissed her, and thanked her. She thanked me back. We slowly dragged our ravaged bodies upstairs, where we finally undressed and made love under a long, hot shower together. I didn't think I had anything left in me to give her, but this girl had a way of making me feel boundless. Whatever the consequences would be that I would have to face for losing the bet, we could figure out later. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, whatever it was, but after today, I couldn't even imagine.

The end is the beginning is the end.