The Grinders Manual Novels & Stories

“Grind against my hand like the needy little slut you are. Try to get closer—go on, chase it.” I do—hips rolling shamelessly, trying to press my clit harder into his palm, but he keeps the pressure just out of reach. Every grind makes my pussy clench, slick dripping into the bathwater, mixing with the steam. My entrance flutters around nothing, begging to be filled.

"We're kind of old fashioned here. Check out the original grinding stone." He had a treadle powered grindstone, which must have been as old as the cabin. He took a seat at it and gave me a quick lesson at sharpening. He had put some pants on, but I was still naked as a jaybird, and when I went to sit and sharpen my axe, the spinning grindstone, so near to my crotch and the inside of my thighs had me as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He took pity on me after about a minute of near disastrous effort and within a minute had the edge of the axe gleaming.

I don't have words. 2 states away from home for a business trip. Finally took the plunge and downloaded grinder. Got several messages almost instantly, but felt a good connection with 1 guy in particular. At first, I was just looking for a jerk bud and we'd see where it went. He said he could meet tonight, but I almost got cold feet. The amount of understanding and compassion he showed for my nervousness was just amazing, so I gave him my room number. ~20 minutes later, he's at the door to my room.

They moved with a rhythmic, mechanical synchronization. Metal ground against metal—relentless, grinding. The vibration traveled up through the stone pavers and into the soles of my boots, settling in my jaw. Each grinding cycle sent tremors through my teeth. Steam vented between each beat in sharp bursts—scalding, cutting through the air with a high-pitched shriek.