Mari Ness  worships chocolate, words, and music, in no particular order. Her work has appeared in such tasteful publications as Clean Sheets, Anything That Moves, Zaftig!, and All in Your Mind. She can be contacted at Mari_Ness@hotmail.com.

Waiting
by Mari Ness

I can take anything except for this wait for the condom. I can take your tongue licking me to orgasm for hours at a time, your hands teasing my nipples until they hurt, until I cry out half with the pain and half with the pleasure of it, until I look down and note with a startled giggle that they’re actually bruised. I can take your mouth on mine for hours, teasing, probing, joining, even while I’m screaming for you. But I can’t take this waiting. It’s been at least three seconds and you’re still hunting for the foil package. I don’t care if this was an unplanned, spontaneous thing which meant that you forgot to take the packet out earlier and leave it in an easy spot to reach. It’s been four whole seconds now, and I can’t wait any longer. I need you inside me, fucking me, now. Ok. Five whole seconds. Find it, or I’m going to die. I’m not kidding.

Six. Jesus, it’s an eternity. I can’t wait any longer, I can’t, I don’t care if I’m a selfish bitch. It’s been an entire six seconds already and my fingers are down there, plunging in, one, two – god, you really did make me ready, didn’t you? Even two isn’t going to do it – three – if I keep this up I’ll have my whole fist inside there, pumping away, and then it will be your own fault for being so slow with the fucking condom. In, out, in out, oh god, yes, that’s right. Not quite as good as you’d be, but then again, you aren’t here, and my fingers are reaching up – up, sliding along that upper line inside me

Oh god, and now my nipple is throbbing. Badly. It’s the same one you bruised hours ago – well, maybe minutes, but it’s not like I’m doing really well with time here. I’m going to have to do something with it; it feels like it’s going to explode. Something gentle; you’ve made it way, way too sensitive. Put left hand there and –

Oh, my god.

Way to break my right hand there. No, can’t stop moving there, can’t stop slowly running my fingers up and down inside myself, even as my entire body quivers in reaction and my hand is – no, not stuck, it just felt that way for a moment and I don’t think I better move anything else for a few minutes I don’t think I can move anything else for a few minutes –

But that nipple’s still throbbing. I touch it again.

Somewhere in the background I think I hear a foil packet ripping. Not that it really matters much at this point; I have bigger problems. Nipple problems. Between your earlier ministrations and whatever I just did to myself, this nipple is throbbing, sensitive, painful, and needy. My left hand trembles over the nipple as the right hand continues its slow movements inside me. I touch it, carefully. My body lifts itself – no way that I’m capable of controlling that much movement, no way. Not while my nipple’s responding like this to the lightest feather touch of my fingers. Maybe it needs to be pinched. Slowly, carefully, to the same rhythm that my right hand is getting used to…

Oh, that’s nice. Nice and slow. Somebody’s moaning. Probably me. My mouth is not a body part I can focus on at the moment. I need to pay attention to my hands, to that nipple, to the fact that my body is shuddering and moaning again, to the sounds of two sets of deep breathing throughout the room.

Two sets.

Somehow I manage to open my eyes and look up.

You bastard. You’ve just been watching, all this time, instead of coming here and screwing me? You bastard. No, I’m not going to stop. I couldn’t stop now if I tried. But I’m not surprised that the condom’s not on yet.

We can fix that pretty quickly, though.

Just as soon as I can stop playing with this nipple.

Copyright © 2000 Mari Ness. All rights reserved.