if there was a term for the feminine counterpart
to the male state of frustration called “blue balls”.
Pondering, I asked her to describe how it felt.
“Well,” she began,
“there are definite belly tingles, those come first,
then my skin becomes extremely sensitive, very relaxed,
while my eyes droop seductively…those built-in feminine wiles.
My lips, all my lips become swollen,
and my nipples feel so engorged it's painful
when they rub against my shirt.
If I'm wearing jeans and no panties and move around any,
I end up making most of my vulva wet with the motions.
When it gets really intense,
my inner thighs and mons are soaked as well,
and there's a great feeling of emptiness…
then I feel like I'm about to cum.”
“You've got the hot puckers,” I quipped.
“It's only noticeable if you look at my face, really,” she added.
“The royal flush maybe?”
She laughed. “A winning hand for you, baby.”
“Do you feel this way often?” I inquired.
“It’s when I want you, but can’t have you then,” she answered,
“or when just chatting with you…
you say something even slightly arousing
and the dominoes start to fall.”