Patience :: Wank Wednesday

Welcome to week 32 of  Wank Wednesday, your weekly festival of smut, find out all about it here. To join in write a story using this week’s prompt #Patience and then use the link widget to add it to the list.

Please remember to include a link back to this post, please use the link back text supplied if you’re unsure of how to do this, if not I’ll remove it from the link list and please do take the time to read a few of the other contributions.

Thank you for writing and reading.

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This weeks prompt is #Patience

Link back text 

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 I woke to the pressure of your hand over my mouth, the realisation sharpening the focus of sleepy eyes.  I watch you watch me wake, the moment of shock when I comprehend what is happening to me.

You smile with a cool enjoyment and my mind reaches through my body to the two fingers pushing slowly, firmly into my cunt.  My thighs are pinned open by your knees and I feel the weight, the heft of you pressing down on me, pressing into me.  I moan at the invasion, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort, a feeling too sweet to call fear.  I try to relax and close my eyes as the tip of my tongue pokes through to taste the dried sweat of your palm.

The swift, stinging slap to my pussy has my eyes flying open, the my clit singing in distorted pleasure.

“Eyes open, bitch”

The only words needed keep me trapped by your gaze and I know you’ll feel the puddling messy rapture in me as you push your fingers back in, two, three, four.

Slap slap slop slop, messy little cunt that I am.

I’m grunting now, ungainly and unladylike my orgasm closes around you as your fingers tighten over my face, will there be bruises? Tell tale red pad marks that I’ll need to cover with make up?

Saliver bubbles in my breath, bursting against your hand until it is as slick as the one between my legs, my orgasm spills out of me, I’m pinned contracting under you, spine arching and pushing against my human bounds.  You don’t stop and you know I hate this, the sheet wet under me, cooling to clammy shroud as you keep pumping me.

Coaxing me to come again.

Again.

Again.

Come now.

Bitch.

Slut.

Whore.

Not done yet.

Not finished with you.

Come again.

More.

More.

More.

I do.

Always.

My tears add a third wetness, my body leaking lust and all its assorted emotions out of me, until you are ready to release me.

Sitting back on your heels you stroke your cock watching as I gasp and whimper and try to latch my mind to something, anything that will haul me back to sanity.  My reprieve is short lived, you turn me to my tummy, yank my legs to the edge of the bed and replace the pump of your fingers with the piston of your cock.  There’s nothing left of me but this use, I’m reduced to the tight rippling network of muscle and nerves that receive you.  I’m not sure if I’ve stopped orgasming or if that is all I’m doing.

I

Can’t

Think

So I don’t.  I know you’re done when the sensations change, the slopping shuddering explosion of wet heat over my back and arse and the emptiness of my cunt.

I lie stunned; I need you to come in me, to feel some kind of claim on you and your body, to feel that I had made you cum.  You leave the bedroom and I hear the shower start and imagine you washing yourself clean of the evidence of me.  I lie still, waiting and clawing myself together again piece by piece.

One day your body will take over your will and I’ll feel the thick of you seed into me and my patience will be rewarded.

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