FSE

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This short story was written for Yui_olp as part of their top tier Patreon reward. It contains F/Solo masturbation involving a consenting adult. :3

A Billion Points of Light

For Francesca, there were as many ways to experience pleasure as there were stars in the sky. There were so many people out in the world who felt like they had to find a partner to experience true pleasure, and many more who even if they were satisfied by their solitary explorations seemed convinced that there was one way to achieve the ultimate form of release, seeking that same goal over and over again with each opportunity that presented itself. Francesca however had never felt that way, and indeed she was so delighted and enthralled by the sheer variety of ways one could pleasure oneself and the subtly unique distinctions between each and every one of those methods that at times it was almost impossible for her to think of anything else.

During times in her daily life when her mind was idle, while on public transport or walking through town as she did some shopping, while sitting in the break room at work or even if she found her thouhts drifting as she hung out with her friends, the vixen's mind would find itself drawn to imaginings of countless, near infinite different methods of self-stimulation. It wasn't just that she'd be thinking about her next opportunity to masturbate though, it wasn't that she'd sit there and consider how she could have been at home pleasuring herself... not only because that implied she reserved masturbation as an activity purely to be indulged in at home. Rather, wherever she was and whatever else was going on around her, Francesca would rest quietly and calmly; not disturbing anyone around her with a slight smile upon her face, a faraway look in her eye and just the slightest rosiness on her cheeks. She would do this, and rather than wishing or longing for masturbation as a physical act, she would live out one of those billions of possible ways to experience pleasure within her own mind.

Standing in front of the microwave as she waited for her lunch to cook, the sounds of her co-workers murmuring in conversation behind her faded away as Francesca closed her eyes and turned her mind to what over the course of that morning had becoming a brief yet all consuming passion of hers. She was transfixed by the idea of how many individual nerve endings her body possessed, particularly the highly clustered and receptive variety located around her pussy, and even more immediately surrounding and of course comprising her clitoris. In her mind's eye, she saw herself lying down in bed and producing a feather. A luxurious soft feather in one hand, which she drew immediately down between her legs. Within the fantasy her manual dexterity was perfect, and thus she was able to bring the very, very tip of the feather, just the foremost two or three delicate pinnules of its point, to bear against the very tip of her clitoris. Gossamer soft, she began to flick the feather back and forth, and though there were so so many myriad nerve endings upon her clit, the tiny fraction of them which were in contact with the feather began to respond with delicious intensity.

The microwave dinged with the completion of her lunch's cooking, and with a soft sigh as her eyes opened once again, Francesca set that fantasy aside briefly, but just as long as it took to grab her food, walk over to one of the chairs seated on the far side of the break room, and sit down there to eat. She pulled her phone out of her purse, attached a pair of earphones to it, and slipped them in. Long ago her colleagues had come to know that this was just how Francesca enjoyed her lunch. She was the most friendly and sociable of any of them during the rest of the day, but while on break she needed her space, and they respected that. They respected it so much in fact that no-one had ever realised that Francesca never listened to any music or podcasts or anything when she had her headphones in, just using them as a way to ensure that no-one tried to engage her in direct conversation, so that as she ate her mind could continue to explore her body.

With the first bite of her lunch, she was back in her bedroom with the feather. It flicked repeatedly across her clitoris, and her body writhed and trembled. The pleasure was so incredible, yet so specifically confined to those nerve endings. She could imagine her toes curling, her tail's tip flicking urgently from side to side. There were so many tiny little ways a body responded to the wonderful feelings of sexual stimulation, and each occasion was utterly unique no matter how similar the method of pleasure. But by varying the stimulation each time, by hyper focusing on one point, one little corner of the vast universe of pleasure that any given body offered up to its owner, that variety could be increased a billion times over.

Francesca kept eating, but kept fantasising too. In her mind she was closer to orgasm now. The pleasure was growing stronger and more incredibly intense, but she was still just teasing those few nerve endings with the feather. Still just wafting that delicate object back and forth, back and forth, back and... she swallowed the latest mouthful of her lunch, and took a moment not just to savour it, but to steady herself and ensure that her body gave away no sign of what her mind was experiencing as within her vision, she began to cum. Between her actual, physical legs there was just the radiating heat of excitement and a slight throbbing sensation of desire within her clitoris, but the vixen was more than able to resist the urge to squeeze her legs together or in any other way betray her arousal. Inside her head though, she was howling. Her legs were stretching out, toes splayed apart, and her back was arched as still she somehow maintained the flicking of the feather over that same singular spot at the very peak of her clitoris. Her pussy spasmed and waves of pleasurable stimulus cascaded from her nether regions to her mind, then back out through her body in the throes of orgasm. It might just have been a fantasy, but the vivid imagining of that pleasure and that climax as a whole was so intense to the vixen, just as her daily fantasies like these always were, that the difference seemed almost immaterial.

Within her head she played out that entire orgasm not just over the course of the fifteen or twenty seconds for which it might have lasted in reality, but for the remainder of her lunch break. Whether in her fantasies it was some vast thirty minute spanning climax or whether she was just imagining it in super slow motion her brain never entirely made clear, but either way by the time it was done, by the time Francesca's eyes fluttered open again and she looked down at her empty plate of food resting on the table in front of her, she was eager to experience it again. Her body was ablaze with desire, but she betrayed not a hint of that excitement to her co-workers as she pulled out her headphones, started to slip them back into her purse, and turned with a smile as someone saw that she was done eating thus available for conversation at last.

For not just the little time remaining on their lunch break but for the entire remainder of the day even as she did do her best to focus on work, Francesca's mind was spinning with imagined mathematical calculations, trying to figure out what fractional percentage of her clit's surface area that feather had been teasing to make her cum like that, and thus how many other such areas she could repeat that same stimulation upon without ever touching the same nerve endings twice across sessions. Even outside her daydreams she could feel her face getting a little hotter than normal as she realised just how many utterly unique, distinctly stimulated orgasms that single feather could grant her, and how many times she was going to make herself cum within her mind playing out each and every single one of those experiences before her head would ever let her move on to exploring anything else. Thus, by the end of the day though she had worked hard and completed more than her share of the shift's duties, Francesca was worked up enough by her continued thinking about those matters that she knew something more tangible would have to be done when finally she made it home.

On the bus ride back home, a good half hour even after she actually got onto the bus with ten minutes waiting at the stop first, Francesca played out another session with the feather. This time it teased at the side of her clitoris, caressing the left flank of that tiny nub again with only its very tip and thus just flicking back and forth across a handful of hyper-sensitive nerve endings. The rumbling and bumping of the bus's engine and the uneven road surface beneath her seat made it harder for Francesca to keep her excitement purely internal, and though of course she felt no urge to go so far as to actually reach between her legs as her fantasy self began to shriek and cum under the feather's thrall, the more real world sensitivity of her body and the subtle, diffused pleasure granted by the bus's motion beneath her made the fantasy that much more vivid and intense. There was no doubting this time around that she was imagining a solid twenty minutes or so of her lying on her bed, writhing and wailing in pleasure as the feather flicking back and forth over those same few nerve endings held her mercilessly at a peak that seemed without end. A peak every bit as incredible as the one she had experienced at lunchtime, and yet one that she could feel was entirely unique and separate from that one, the pleasure born of different stimulation to different nerve endings, thus distinctively wonderful in its own right.

Even once she was off the bus, Francesca walked home half on autopilot, seeing the pavement in front of her but also seeing her bedroom ceiling as she continued to quiver and cum. It took no effort, no force of will to hold herself at that imagined but wonderfully vivid peak. In fact, it probably would have taken more effort to try and stop herself from continuing to play it out rather than to just keep on letting it happen, and thus all the rest of the way home and even when she slipped into her small suburban home, the vixen's internal self was still cumming.

Once inside her house however, Francesca did allow herself a little more leeway between her fantasy and reality. She leaned back against the inside of the door, and as her hand fumbled to lock it again behind her, she rested her head back to the woodwork and let slip a long, desirous groan. Her thighs squeezed together, and no sooner had they done so the vixen felt a trickle of arousal beginning to seep from within herself, threatening to stain her underwear if she didn't do something about it rather swiftly. Thankfully she had no intention of waiting any longer, and the vixen pulled away from the door, starting to remove her clothes right there in the hall. She continued to do so all the more hurriedly as she ascended the stairs of her house towards the bedroom, in which her fantasy self was still writhing and crying out in her own ceaseless bliss.

There was a moment, just a moment, where as Francesca opened up the bedroom door the sheer vivid realism of her fantasy made her wonder if perhaps she'd see herself lying naked on the bed with that feather flicking at her clit. Incredible as that total subversion of reality would have been though, she was just as grateful to see the bed empty, thus free for her use. By the time she made it across the room and sat down on the edge of her bed, she was completely naked. Still resisting the urge to touch herself quite yet though, Francesca reached over to her bedside table, pulled open its drawer, and removed an object from within that made her whole body visibly tremble the moment she laid eyes upon it.

Nibbling on her bottom lip the vixen finally allowed herself to lie down upon her bed, and with a soft audible whimper she parted her legs as she held the long, thin vibrator, only just wider than a chunky fountain pen so that it could fit its batteries inside it but ending in a much finer point, over herself. The toy began to hum with a deep intensity that betrayed its power as she twisted its base to bring it to life, but where she was clutching its shaft the vibration was minimal. Only its tip, rising to a peak like a blunt pencil, was blurred with the intense motion of vibration, and Francesca gurgled loudly, helplessly as she finally acknowledged that soon it wouldn't be just in her head that she was screaming and cumming, thus no longer did it have to just be inside her head that she reacted to the impending pleasure.

Turning the toy's motor off once again, the vixen spread her legs wide apart, bent at the knee with her feet resting flat against the sheets of her bed, and lowered the toy between them. She moved slowly and purposefully as she used the delicate point of the toy's tip to explore herself, trembling and gasping as she lubricated the toy by sliding it into her already more than ready, rather damp and flushed inner workings, only to withdraw it and trace it up between her lips until she found its pointed tip able to slide between the more numerous subtle folds at the apex of her nether regions, surrounding the hood and of course the flesh itself of her perfect clitoris. She could have held it to her clit itself, she knew that all too well, but that stimulation would be too much. If a feather in her head alone could make her cum that long and hard, she'd explode from the stimulation of a toy like that one focusing all its vibrating passion and power upon her clit directly. Thus, she had to be more careful. To remain close to her clit, but find a spot less directly associated. A spot which held nerve endings of its own just begging for pleasure, but which without a toy as specialised as this one at slipping into the littlest nooks and crannies of flesh would never have had its own chance to shine.

It took perhaps a minute of careful exploration, of teasing and caressing the tip of the pencil vibrator against the most carefully hidden of her body's already intimate reaches before with a soft gasp, Francesca found the spot. She slid the tip of the vibrator back and forth across it a couple of times just to be sure, and groaned in delight at how sensitive it was from those minor caresses alone. The toy was so close to her clit, but instead of being anywhere in contact with that tender nub of flesh it found itself tucked into the folds just at the base of the left side of her clitoral hood. It was such a tiny and specific spot that a finger or a lover's tongue or even a larger toy would never have been able to find it, or even if they had, never realise that this particular spot was so responsible for the pleasure granted to them when a comparably far larger and vastly more prominent target was so close by. That fact made its presence, and now Francesca's awareness of it all the more wonderful though, and for that reason she lay all but still for close to a minute, not fantasising this time but letting herself settle so that when the pleasure came... and she knew it would... she would have longer to enjoy the experience before her orgasm struck.

When she was as far from orgasm as her undeniably aroused and eager body could conceivably get, short of her actively trying to turn herself off, the vixen smiled. She took a deep, steadying breath, though even that escaped her lungs somewhat ragged with her excitement, and closed her eyes. Then, with the tip of the vibrator brought gently back into contact with that same little sweet spot so delicately tucked away just beside her aching clit, she lowered her free hand to the base of the toy, and turned it on.

Her hips rose off the bed immediately, but just like in her fantasies her hand was able to maintain the exact same level of contact between the toy and her nether regions, not pushing any harder or forcing the stimulation to become any more intense no matter how her body bucked against it. The low humming of the toy rang out around her, and though Francesca's mouth opened in breathless wonder at the stimulation, she didn't cry out. Her toes wriggled. Her tail swept back and forth with plenty of room to move as her back remained arched with feet and shoulders supporting her slender body's weight. For a moment her eyes fluttered open, and Francesca looked down over her heaving chest to see her hand holding steady the far end of that long, slender, purple pencil vibe as it worked its sweet magic.

It felt so good, and more importantly, it felt like no pleasure that Francesca had ever known before. It wasn't the fury of clitoral stimulation, it wasn't the wild savagery of her g-spot being attacked, nor the constant hunger and receptiveness of being in heat. It wasn't the pleasure of a cock inside her, a tongue lashing her, fingers probing or even a feather flicking and tickling. It was similar to the other times, the many times she'd used this toy before on other sweet spots, but still not even close to being effectively the same. How could it be, after all. The nerves which connected that spot of her body to her brain were entirely different to any other, constructed from the same base plan of DNA but shaped by a lifetime of experiences and constant cellular regrowth to maintain themselves. Every pleasure-sensitive cell in her body was like a different star out in the universe, and though from a great distance they might just seem like a billion individual points of light, Francesca knew that some of those singular points were in fact entire galaxies in their own right, each star as different from one another as the sun was from its nearest neighbours.

These were the thoughts that not only filled the vixen's mind as she revelled in this latest and gloriously unrepeatable bout of masturbatory pleasure, not just enthralling her with the complexity and wonder of her own body and the bliss it was able to offer, but further exciting her far more than any porn video or image or perhaps even a lover's presence could have managed. The stimulation itself was wonderful but never too intense or urgent in its desire to bring her to climax. Thus while her body began to steadily rise as the pleasure built upon its own foundations and the vibrator's highly focused stimulation rendered the spot at which it was probing ever more sensitive, it was her thoughts as much as her toy's actions which helped steadily and rather swiftly draw Francesca towards her bliss.

Soon enough, she couldn't remain quiet any longer. Whimpers, whining gasps and strained cries uttered for no-one's benefit, purely born of helpless pleasure in its own right, began to echo around the bedroom. The bed creaked as Francesca's feet and shoulders dug down into the mattress as her hips pushed higher and her back arched ever more urgently to try and press her pussy more firmly to the toy, but of course her hand upon the far end of the vibrator denied herself any stimulation beyond that which it was already delivering to that perfect fragment of her pussy's outer limits. The pleasure rose within her, a swelling tide that the vixen knew was going to rise far beyond any coastal defences her body could mount, and as it did so its uniqueness became ever more apparent. She was going to cum, but not as she had ever cum before. She was going to cum with that small fragment of her nether regions alone having been stimulated, and Francesca knew from glorious past experience what that meant. What she had years ago realised that she could coax, or perhaps even trick her body into doing by focusing in on one specific spot like this.

"Ohh..."

Her eyes widened and their lids fluttered as she felt that swell building more swiftly, the sensitivity of that specific spot at which she was striking with her toy beginning to run away with itself in an exponentially growing cascade of blissful sensation. She forced her eyes shut again though, and with all the willpower she possessed in that moment pushed herself to focus on exactly what she was feeling. On the unique and amazing way those particular nerve endings were being stimulated, on the way that the pleasure washed out over the rest of her pussy without ever coming into contact with it, and the way she could feel herself rising to orgasm based on the stimulation of those nerves and those alone, leaving so much more free for stimulation in the future.

"O-ooohh..."

A more urgent, breathless groan escaped her, and for a split-second Francesca wondered how incredible it might feel if she shifted her vibrator just half a centimetre to the side and pressed its focused buzzing tip against the very base of her clitoris. Her pussy convulsed, and in her mind's eye she saw herself screaming, shaking, maybe even squirting with the sudden and violent increase in just how wildly pleasurable those last few moments before her orgasm would be. But a fantasy was all that it remained. She knew it would feel good. She knew it would feel utterly mind-blowing in the short term. Francesca had never been one for thinking in the short term though, not when the long term could be so, so much more incredible if you were patient enough to wait for it.

Her body convulsed. Her toes splayed out, quivering and holding themselves stretched out apart from one another as every muscle in the vixen's entire body seemed to tense up for an instant. A strangled, choked grunt of ecstasy escaped Francesca as her pussy's inner walls began to clutch and squeeze in a hungry rhythm, instinctively seeking something to milk and hold inside which on this occasion was utterly absent. Lover or no lover though, cock or no cock, when Francesca's muzzle let loose a blissful shriek a moment later and the full savagery of her orgasm engulfed her, she knew that she had made the right choice. She knew it as the pleasure radiated out from that one specific spot propelled to its most glorious extremes, and as wave after wave of orgasmic ecstasy crashed through the vixen, she revelled not just in the sensations themselves but in the lustful foreknowledge of what was to follow.

Her orgasm lasted almost twenty five seconds; twenty five quivering, squeezing, throbbing, all consumingly incredible seconds, before it began to trail off, and that sweet spot at which Francesca's toy was still probing with almost needle-like focus began to grow so very tender, too sensitive to bear that stimulation any longer. That however was when Francesca's already flushed, panting and grinning face took up an expression of the utmost delight, hunger, and perhaps even a little shameless gluttony, and she wiggled the point of the pencil vibrator just a quarter centimetre or so up deeper into that same delicately nestled fold of flesh surrounding her clit. Her eyes bulged as fresh pleasure swamped her, and her body and mind reacted with simultaneous shock and giddy, knowing relief as she found herself practically on the brink of orgasm again, having fallen a little way back from her peak, but not by much.

"Oohhhgod..."

Francesca gurgled as she revelled in the truth, in the simple fact of what she had always known was going to happen once she got home today, much as it did most days when she had the free time. She had trained her body, prepared her body through all her fantasies and a lot of practice to receive the utmost pleasure from individual spots upon her nether regions alone, and in doing so she had trained it out of a habit that so many bodies possessed. The idea that once a cock or a pussy had been fully stimulated to orgasm, a refractory period of over-sensitivity was required before it could be stimulated successfully again. For her body however, with its single minded focus on pleasure being contained within and generated by such tiny fragments of her most sensitive reaches overall, it had learned that such a preservation mechanism was unnecessary. It had learned that it didn't need to overstimulate everything after just one orgasm, when so much of it had yet to receive any direct stimulation at all.

And thus, so long as she directed the stimulation somewhere the tiniest bit different each time, Francesca didn't have to just cum once through her highly focused self-pleasure.

So long as she focused on a different cluster or nerve endings each and every time, she could cum again, and again, and again.

"...again..."

And again.

"...ohh god!"

Francesca thought back to her fantasies at lunchtime and on the way home. Hours of orgasmic high, ceaseless, limitless, with only the most feather-light touch required to keep it going.

"Aah... again!"

She cried out as her toy buzzed loudly, but only rested gently, delicately against her latest sweet spot, only the second of many more to be located and stimulated that evening.

"Cumming... ohhhh yes! Yes!"

She wailed for no-one to hear, for no-one but herself to revel in the unabashed and uncontainable truth of those words.

"I'm cumming! I... I'm cumming, ohhgod, yes! I'm cumming Again!"

By Jeeves

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