Back to Female Stories

My boyfriend has just come home from San Diego, and I am overjoyed. He has been gone for three weeks and I have missed him terribly. We are very close; not only do we work together, but we have also been best friends since time immemorial. We tell each other everything and, I'll be blunt, we get along just as well on the physical level. I've never met a bloke who could help me reach peaks as high as Peter can. The day he finally up and told me, blushing adorably, that he'd had a crush on me for the longest time was one of the best in my whole life. It took some time for me to start thinking about him as my boyfriend instead of my best friend, but I've not regretted it for a minute. Thinking back now, it seems obvious that we're meant for each other. My friends had been telling me this for ages; I just hadn't been listening.

It is so lovely that Pete is home this evening. We share a small but cosy three room flat in the north of London; expensive but worth it. The view is lovely when you look out the window - all lights and bustle, though luckily it calms down at night. The view inside, however, is even nicer. We've made it a friendly, homey place, though perhaps a tad unconventional due to Peter's eclectic tastes. The man has a thing about gargoyles; he collects them and they are perched in all sorts of positions all around the flat. I like them, but I try to balance their frightening appearance with feminine flowery touches.

Peter and I are just as interesting a contrast. Sometimes, I tease him by saying that he fits in well with the gargoyles, for he is tall, thin and very pale. This is accentuated by black hair, which he keeps clean and close cropped, ice blue eyes and startlingly red lips that I find simply stunning. They are exquisitely defined and the rose petal soft kisses he gives me would make granite dissolve. I love his chiselled jaw and gorgeous straight nose; his face is very angular, something I've always found attractive in a man. If you hadn't already guessed from this short description, I think he is gorgeous.

I, on the other hand, am all flowing curves. I wouldn't say I am fat, but I am certainly no Kate Moss. Peter finally got me to stop useless diets, saying he liked me better when I looked a little bit buxom. My chest is generous, as are my hips. "Tummies", he tells me, are sexy on a woman, which is a good thing since mine is rounded and satin smooth, definitely present when I take off my clothes. Though my hair is just as dark as his and my skin as white, we look nothing alike. My eyes are brown and they sparkle with mirth even when I'm trying to be angry. I've got rosy cheeks, a round chin, and I like to wear pigtails occasionally; I've always thought perhaps I'd look more appropriate working as a milk maid instead of as a real-estate agent.

On this evening, Peter and I are snuggling up on our plushy dark blue sofa, talking softly and whispering sweet happy nothings to ach other, when suddenly he becomes all shy and says something in a way that makes me smile.

"Laura, you know what? I noticed something on my trip."

He stops, looking very uncomfortable. I wait for a few seconds and then, seeing he wants me to coax whatever this terrible secret was out of him, I pinch his thigh lightly and say,

"And what did she look like?"

This gets him smiling in turn, but that quickly fades. I can make jibes like this without fretting; I know that Peter has eyes for no one but me. His almost translucent skin turns a bit pinker than it already is.

"Well, you remember that time you told me sneezing... um... got you going?"

Did I? I'd been so embarrassed that evening; I don't think I'll ever forget it. I'd always had a fetish for sneezing, for as long as I'd been able to recall, but even telling Pete had been incredibly difficult though we share everything else. It had taken a lot of courage for me to finally admit it, but he'd readily welcomed this information and set me at ease. I'd always been very grateful.

"Yes, I do," I laugh, still feeling small shreds of embarrassment clinging to me as I recall the torturous process of confessing this little bit of kink. "What about it?"

"Well, on the way over to San Diego, I noticed this woman's sneezes on the plane ride. I think it was the air pressure or something, but she kept on sneezing the whole way through and I..." he buries his face in his hands. "I liked it."

He looks totally embarrassed and all I want to do is scoop this tall, lanky bloke up in my arms to tell him it's all right, but I don't. He isn't quite finished and I sense it; I really, really want to hear what else he has to say.

"And also, while I was working, there was this pretty Indian woman who always came to meetings... And she had some sort of hay fever, and she sneezed... I looked up at her and saw her, that incredible face she was making, all expectant like and so sexy. Then, when she actually did it, she threw her whole body into it even though they were quite soft, but still powerful like, you know? And it was like this wave of pulsing heat rippling through me in time with her sneezes..."

I believe that at that point, had Peter's cheeks been hotter or redder, they would have burst into flames. Still, he manages to continue, though this is clearly difficult for him.

"I would have let her do anything to me based solely on her sneezes. I just... I can't explain it, really. I just really liked it."

With that, Peter just bursts into laughter where incomprehension, shame and guilt were very much mixed. He looks so shy with his hands still partially covering his light blue eyes and, I must confess, totally adorable that in that moment that I can't help myself. I laugh along with him, a low, sweet laugh, and lean over to hug his hunched form. Was that all it was? Nothing to be embarrassed about! Well... Almost nothing. I remember my own shyness and laugh again.

"So what is it that you liked about her sneezes, babe?"

I am honestly not jealous; this just comes as a shock to me. You see, I am the one with the fetish for sneezing. Why on earth had he been finding other women's sneezes sexy? This is simply a very bizarre confession.

"Which one? The Indian woman or the plane ride woman?"

"Either or both, whichever."

"Well, I think it's probably the same thing in both, so I'll just go from there. I'm not sure, really, I didn't think too much about it. They just sounded really sexy, like soft feminine explosions. I mean, both of them didn't want to do it, they just sort of had to. Especially with the Indian woman; I could see she was really trying hard not to sneeze during the meetings. She was holding her breath and twitching her nose, but it didn't work and she always had to give in and sneeze. And then she just looked really embarrassed after, which I thought was really cute, but let's not go there. It's just the sneeze, really, I can't explain it. They were just so natural, so unrestrained. I just... liked it."

He is still scarlet at this point, but looking down, I can't help but notice there is something hot and hard poking out at me from beneath his trousers.

I know this will sound strange, but in the two years I've been dating Peter, I don't think I've ever sneezed around him. This is in part because I'm not a very sneezy person to start with (no allergies, and I never catch colds), but also because of my fetish. I've always been shy about sneezing around anybody and, ever since I've told Peter about what sneezing means to me, I'll go out of my way never to do it around him.

Needless to say, this admission totally shocks me. Could he possibly share my fetish? This is too incredible to be true. And then, I think back to how he acts when he sneezes. To be blunt, Peter more often than not gets an erection after doing it. I'd always reckoned it was because he knows what it does to me when he sneezes, but upon hearing his story, I began to have doubts. Then again, if he'd always had a "thing" for sneezing like I did, wouldn't he have told me when I up and came out with my own unusual liking?

I just have to put this new theory to the test.

"So Pete," I ask, doing my best to adopt a conversational tone. "Would you like to hear me sneeze?"

He looks at me shyly, not quite believing what I am asking. I think maybe he's realising at this moment that I've never sneezed in his presence before. This immediately gets him curious.

"Are you serious? Well," he seems quite bashful at this point, but still cannot refuse the offer. "Yeah, sure!"

Peter isn't the only one to be shy about it, though I am also delighted. I get up from the couch and slide into the nearby bathroom. I can't let him watch right then, nor can I quite explain why - vestigial timidity no doubt - so I just stay in there and find a hairpin.

Gently, I stick it up my nose and induce a sneeze. It takes a while, but finally, I manage to make myself sneeze quite forcefully.

"Hah-ISSHOO!"

If I'm not ready to let him watch, I know for certain that he has heard me. I don't sneeze often, but when I do, it's usually loud enough to knock down buildings from the sheer force of it.

I can't help myself; I have to ask him for feedback.

"So how was that?"

Peter comes up and enters the bathroom. He is stood near the door, looking down, not meeting my eyes. His cheeks are now a different shade of red; I can tell it's no longer a shame-filled tint.

"Don't say anything just yet... Just sneeze for me again."

The phrasing would suggest an order, but his voice lilts upward at the end and it sounds more like a question. Knowing how hard it must have been for him to tell me about the events of his trip, I can't find it in my heart to deny him. Or even to ask him step outside. I notice again the conspicuous bulge in his trousers, and smile lustily at him, tossing my hair fetchingly.

I do the hairpin thing again and it is not long before a second sneeze bursts out of me.

"Hah-ICKSHOO!"

This is too much for Peter. He draws close and presses himself against me. I know exactly what's going on in his mind; if his expression isn't eloquent enough on its own, another part of him further down certainly is. I kiss him roughly and he reciprocates, grinding against me in a way I can't help but find unbelievably erotic. I've seldom seen him so aroused and his state is highly contagious.

I bring my arms down from behind his back where they were laced and undo the fly of his trousers. His member practically jumps out at me, hot and eager, pointing towards me insistently, beckoning. I take it between my warm palms and I hear Peter moan, delighted.

"Laura... Please don't be mad, but... Could you maybe-" he swallows, practically bursting with desire, "could you perhaps try sneezing for me again?"

I can't refuse his invitation, though this means I'll be regretfully letting go of his hot, satiny flesh.

Peter watches me as I insert the hairpin in my right nostril. I do it slowly, carefully, and can feel it sliding against the tiny hairs there. It's tickling already and I know this time, the sneeze shouldn't take so long to come.

I am wrong.

I try teasing it out, coaxing it out, forcing it out, but it just won't come. I can feel my nose filling up and my eyes are watering. It tickles dreadfully, but for some reason, the sneeze is stuck and won't come out. This is torture, and I almost stop, but looking up at Peter, I see him staring at me, mesmerized, his mouth slightly open. He's loving this! I can see he actually has a hand on his erection and is slowly stroking it.

I go back to the task at hand. I'm feeling on edge, miserable. I want to sneeze; I need to sneeze! It just refuses to come. I know my features are twisted into agonized expectation as I slowly make the hairpin brush across the magic spot that usually does the trick.

Out of the blue, Peter is suddenly standing right in front of me. Gently, he reaches for my hand. My eyes are filled with water at this point and he is just a blur. I feel his hand gliding over mine until finally he is holding the hairpin and I am not. It never leaves my nose, but now it is his turn to try and make me sneeze. I am praying he'll be more successful than I.

In exchange, I decide to try and put my hands to good use. They return to Peter's crotch and wrap themselves along his gorged penis almost of their own volition. I can hear him sigh gratefully and I resume the stroking motion he had begun even though I'll admit at this point, my attention is definitely more focused on my nose.

Peter twirls the hairpin lightly, gently, making me feel sneezier than ever. I gasp for air, the monstrous tickle forcing my lungs to fill to capacity with the expectation for release, but I am still not quite there.

"Please-" I choke out, as if this will help things along.

Silently, he begins to rotate the hairpin with infinite care and slowness. I gasp again, certain the sneeze is about to come, but to no avail. He begins to make it move, faster and faster, until it is like a vibration that echoes into the deepest reaches of my sinuses. For a moment, I think he'll never do it, that he'll never be able to make me sneeze. I am all expectation, all anticipation, all agony. My whole body is frozen in what must be a dreadfully unappealing (or magnificently thrilling, if you're into sneezing!) pre-sneeze stance, except for my lungs, which are practically convulsing with the hitching breaths I cannot help but take in, and my hands which throughout all this haven't stopped caressing Peter's sex.

The hairpin-induced tickle is now burrowing it's way into the very back of my nose, burning and itching, driving me mad. I want to sneeze. No, I have to.  I simply must sneeze, or I'll go insane - my whole head will explode if it doesn't come out soon. Peter's movements are becoming jerkier, less controlled because of the pleasure I am bringing him, no matter how intent he might be on actually making me sneeze. I think it is this, this slightly offbeat twitching of his hand, the uncontrolled motion that finally does it. The hairpin he is wielding taps on a far wall somewhere deep inside my nose, and all of a sudden, I am there. It wells up and up inside me, at long last, and I know this torture is over.

I am finally going to be allowed to sneeze.

"HAHSHOOO!... Hah-ASSHOOO!... HAISHOOOOO!"

Enormous. Satisfying. Wonderful. I have reached nirvana.

And then, looking down at my hand, I realize that Peter has as well. The hairpin is dropped on the floor; I've literally sneezed it out of Peter's hand. Not that he is noticing it, mind; he's too absorbed in his orgasm and his observation of me to notice anything so insignificant. The tiny pinging sound it makes upon hitting the tiles is lost in my laughter and his heavy breathing.

"Oh. My. God."

This is my own brilliant reflection on what we have just done.

Peter just laughs, not sure what to add to this all-encompassing statement.

I join in, and then lean over to grab some toilet paper, which I swiftly use to wipe my hands clean from his spent pleasure. Then, I give my nose a good, long, extremely harsh blow. It comes out wet, full, and unsavoury. Peter doesn't care; as soon as I am done, he grabs for some as well and cleans himself up too. Then, we dispose of it and he gives me a very long hug, whispering thanks and sweet loving nothings.

I break it off and smile at him. Then, just as I am about to say something, an unexpected surprise wells up in the back of my throat and all that comes out is a harsh gasp. I freeze for a moment and then bend forward.

"Hah-ISSHHH!"

Peter smiles. I blush, but I smile back. He puts my hand on his crotch and even through the trousers he has once again zipped up, I can feel him hardening anew as a result of that last powerful sneeze.

"Well, this is certainly a pleasant surprise!" I say, sniffling, regaining my composure.

"Isn't it?" he gives me a roguish smile. "Shall we both enjoy it together, this time? Perhaps I could return the favour you just did for me..."

There is no way I can turn this invitation down. I kiss him again and stoop to pick up the hairpin, making good use of my position to goose him cheekily.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have had it otherwise, you sexy beast!"

After the torture he has just put me through, he knows he's going to have to give me the shag of a lifetime. Luckily though, I know he'll probably enjoy it just as much as I will. This time, and the one after, and the one after that, and...