More Soft Sweater Obsessing

At work last week and this week she of blue sweater fame has been wearing her sexy dark green mohair mix sweater.  Not every day but often enough.  As said before, prolonged chastity makes you acutely sensitive to things.  Having just been thinking about this topic and writing about it on here I recognised on the first day how I was immediately aware of her sweater and just how soft it looked.  I was moving around the office a lot more that day so I saw much more of her – in her invitingly soft and sensual sweater – so I was pretty much obsessing over it all day, so much so that it produced another nocturnal spillage.

The spillage was preceded by dreaming which for once I was able to remember in the morning; or the imagery at least.  A mohair scarf was being twisted and wound around my neck, then pulled tighter and tighter.  The pattern of the twisted scarf matched the pattern of the cabling of her sweater, which gives it an extra depth of softness and makes it cling to her figure, and I saw it was her that was slowly strangling me.  And of course she was wearing the soft green sweater while she was doing it.  The resulting (dream) asphyxia eventually produced an erection and the consequent spillage.  Coming so soon after the last episode it was a pretty pathetic little panty squirt that went something like this:

‘Zzzzzzz… Wha…?  Uh. Oh.  Hhnnn.  Oh, Goddess!’  squit.  ‘Hhnn.  Oh Goddess,’ squit.

Having another wet dream so soon after the last one shows just how deeply this temporary obsession had worked itself into my subconscious.  And when I got to work the next day, with the ache in my balls renewed rather than relieved as is always the way after a spillage, lo and behold she was wearing the sweater in the pic in the previous post.  It’s the exact same sweater except her one has a cowl neck.  So ok, it’s not the ‘exact’ same sweater but it has that length that outlines the first curve of the derriere in softness and I spent another day obsessing over her soft sweater.

The green mohair sweater then appeared several times more to tease and torment me; most recently yesterday.

Perhaps all this poses the question whether it’s right for me to be obsessing over this girl and her soft sweaters when I am the property of a genuine Goddess who by her flawless beauty eclipses her and most other girls; the Goddess who so generously keeps me permanently locked in chastity.  But then Goddess understands perfectly well the effects of chastity.  Goddess knows She doesn’t need to lift a finger to torment me.  She knows that in prolonged chastity I’ll torment myself, or my weak male brain will cause me to torment myself: or any one of countless girls, random girls on buses or even my own staff, will torment me.  Whether I'm tormenting myself or being tormented depends how you look at it.

I like to look at as if this girl was using the phone next to me on my desk yesterday while wearing her sexy soft green sweater and standing with her back to me so I had to look at her (yes, ‘had to’; how could I not?) deliberately just to torment me.  She has quite a good figure and the sweater clings to and follows all the curves, outlining them in deep and invitingly touchable, but completely untouchable, softness and standing about two feet away.

That’s the thing about soft sweaters; they make you want to touch them, to touch and be touched, held.  And so on.  By their very nature they evoke feminine softness and sensuality; they evoke everything I can’t have, everything my Goddess and my chastity deny me, everything my Goddess, and me too for that matter, know I don’t deserve.

Here's an entirely gratuitous soft sweater pic.  Remember it's the sensuality of the sweater we're interested in here.

Brain Chemistry

HAPPY NEW YEAR, readers.

A couple of days after my last post I had a nocturnal ball emptying.  I’ve described these before so I won’t dwell on this except to say that as it was preceded by lots of weird dream imagery of long soft hair, buses, and unattainable goddesses teasing and tormenting my cock in novel and amusing ways, it was clearly triggered by reliving the torment of Goddess’s top agent.  The orgasm itself was, as ever, violent and uncomfortable.

I’ve also had several nocturnal awakenings which have seemed not to involve my cock at all.  Instead I’ve woken up to feel my balls being uncomfortably, mounting to painfully, squeezed.  This must have involved my cock erecting to put pressure on the balls but without producing any of the usual sensations from the head of my cock, just tormented balls.  And as ever while this sort of thing is going on I know precisely who is doing this to me.  I’m being remotely tormented by Goddess Valentine who is thousands of miles away and almost certainly not thinking about me at all.  Even so, it's still a wonderful feeling.

Chastity, especially prolonged chastity, makes you acutely aware of whatever it is that pushes your buttons.  I’m highly sensitised to the slightest thing now.  Well, I have been for a long time now. That’s what drives this obsession with long soft hair.  I just can’t help noticing it.  Or beautiful girls.  My brain will spot a beautiful girl or a girl with long soft hair in a crowd at half a mile!  The effect they have on my chastity depends on the circumstances at the time but they always produce the same deep-seated emotional ache of longing.  I suppose it’s to do with brain chemistry.  Given the right stimulus the brain dumps chemicals into the bloodstream to trigger specific responses.  This is what makes it so easy for girls to manipulate us.  I imagine that in my case, because they never produce results, chemicals are being dumped into my blood in industrial quantities accompanied by a lot of indignant sermonising about my responsibilities towards the procreation of the species.  Perhaps that explains the curious experience I had at work this week.

I’m currently working in what is otherwise a disused office doing computer work with a female member of my staff.  It’s a fair sized room with only the two of us in it.  Where I’m sitting, which is dictated by where the remaining computers are plugged in, she is off behind me and around a corner; unless I get up I can’t see her.  About mid-morning in the middle of the week I felt myself suddenly acutely aware that she was there, only a few feet away, and that there was only the two of us in the room.  And that she was wearing her blue sweater.  Accompanying this awareness was an aching in my balls.  What we’re doing requires concentration so while I’m doing it everything else is pretty much zoned out.  I went on working with the awareness of her still at the back of my mind.  The awareness persisted and was nagging at me constantly.  It was impossible not to be know she was there.  The odd thing is that I hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, daydreaming about her or fantasising about her in any way.  I wasn’t consciously thinking about her at all.  But I knew she was there, a few feet away, in her blue sweater.

Why her blue sweater was so important I’ve no idea.  I have a fetish for girls in soft sweaters but there’s nothing special about this blue one, yet I was acutely conscious that she was wearing it.  The ache in my balls got progressively worse although it somehow never communicated itself to my cock.  I went on working but the fact of her presence went on relentlessly nagging at the back of my mind as if there was something I’d forgotten to do.  My balls went on aching.  I wanted to cum.  She went on being there, a few feet away, and went on wearing her blue sweater.

This squirming physical frustration, with a background hum of emotional longing and frustration, went on for half an hour until I suppose the chemical factory in my brain exhausted its stocks of whatever it was it had been manufacturing and gave up on its producing any result.  While it was going on it was really distracting.

This was a couple of days after my nocturnal ball-emptying.  Things always seem to happen after these events.

I couldn't find a picture to represent the blue sweater but she does have one like this.