My legs are longer than my patience.

Photo credit: Popeye Images.

“Be there by 7.30pm, I will be there shortly before 7.45pm and I need you naked when I arrive.”

The message was accompanied by a dropped pin on google maps. It was quite a drive, and once I parked there would be a 20 minute walk. I would have to get a wriggle on if I was going to be ready and waiting for him. Fortunately the roads were clear, and as I walked up the hill towards the deserted pillbox the sun set behind me, the sky turning blood-red as the day reached its finale in a blaze of glory.

Dropping my bag, I peeled off the layers needed for the journey.

They were slightly damp and I cringed at the thought of putting them back on in a couple of hours when they had lost the heat from my skin. The chill air of an early winters evening would only be intensified by time, though the stiff breeze brought with it the scent of seaweed from the rocks below. The time was now 7.38pm and I was warm, glowing with the excitement of seeing him again. I paced around inside the building, arms folded across my body in an effort to maintain my temperature, though with the furnace burning in my loins I doubted the warmth would subside any time soon.

My phone chirped loudly over the gusts of sea breeze.

Frustrated with myself for not having it on silent I knew he would crest the hill as I checked. Keeping moving I tried to ignore the thought I had a message waiting. Five minutes passed, maybe more? I couldn’t tell… minutes feel like hours when you are naked in a pillbox on top of a cliff. My phone chirped again. Frustrated I delved into my bag, pulling the phone from my pocket with the sole intention of muting the sound. But the messages were from him.

“Stuck in traffic, not far behind you.”

Followed by:

“Crash and diversion. ETA unknown. Stay naked but keep warm”.

Folding myself down onto the steps in the lee of the pillbox I rested my bottom on my folded jumper. Waiting naked with my phone in hand I was now able to keep track of the time. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty-three minutes passed… My excitement ebbed to sadness that he wasn’t with me, and then turned to frustration and a full-blown sulk. Where was he now? I surely couldn’t expect another message if he was following a police diversion around the twiddly lanes for locals. Flicking back to his messages…

“Stay naked but keep warm”

He never lets me play without permission, but the frustration became an erotically hot anger. Looking at the pillbox and seeing the walls where he would have planned to fold me and use me for his pleasure I imagined his fingers delving into me, pressing my hot wet folds apart and plunging one, two then three thick fingers into my slick, needy pussy. While his other hand pulled my nipple hard out eliciting a hiss from between my teeth those fingers kept up their steady rhythm, his thumb grazing my clit, toppling me over the edge while profanities tumbled from between my lips and my pussy gushed all over his hand. I was so wrapped up in the orgasm which ripped through me I could almost smell him, and as my eyes fluttered I thought I saw him. Giddy with lust I leant back into the wall, eyes closed and panting.

“Fffuuu…”I. Was

“We have discussed your swearing N” My mouth was no longer my own, opening my eyes I saw his cock bobbing in front of my face, felt his fingers delving in my mouth and brushing the back of my tongue until I retched. “And touching yourself is not allowed, you know this. You know better than that” Looking up into his eyes I found them dark with lust rather than anger, a smirk playing on his lips. Down went my gaze, I couldn’t look him in the eyes when he was telling me off. But as his erection came into view I noticed the globe of precum on his tip as it bobbed in front of me. For the second time that evening my patience failed me and my tongue snaked out to lick this treasure.

He groaned, and pulled his fingers from my mouth.

Without a moment to prepare myself he grabbed my hair and forced his shaft into my throat, already well lubricated from my gagging on his hand. He started his lecture, punctuated by thrusts. “Patience. Is. A. Virtue. My. Sweetgirl. No. Touching. Without. Permission. And. No. Swearing. It. Is. Not. Becoming.” And then he was coming, flooding my throat and mouth. Keeping my mouth open his cum dripped down my chin as he withdrew his waning erection, meeting with the tears that flowed from a combination of deep throating and the shame of needing educating. Scooping the fluids from my chin and chest he fed them to me. “Do I need to remind you about wasting my precious gifts to you?” His eyes twinkled as his cock twitched back to life.

It seems it wasn’t just me lacking in patience…

Masturbation Monday
February Photofest

 

My legs are longer than my patience was first published on A Leap of Faith.

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