Mind Caviar Fiction


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 theyíre actually bruised. I can take your mouth on mine for hours, teasing, probing, joining, even while Iím screaming for you. But I canít take this waiting. Itís been at least three seconds and youíre still hunting for the foil package. I donít 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. Itís been four whole seconds now, and I canít wait any longer. I need you inside me, fucking me, now. Ok. Five whole seconds. Find it, or Iím going to die. Iím not kidding.

Six. Jesus, itís an eternity. I canít wait any longer, I canít, I donít care if Iím a selfish bitch. Itís been an entire six seconds already and my fingers are down there, plunging in, one, two Ė god, you really did make me ready, didnít you? Even two isnít going to do it Ė three Ė if I keep this up Iíll 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, thatís right. Not quite as good as youíd be, but then again, you arenít here, and my fingers are reaching up Ė up, sliding along that upper line inside me

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

Oh, my god.

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

But that nippleís 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 Ė no way that Iím capable of controlling that much movement, no way. Not while my nippleís 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 toÖ

Oh, thatís nice. Nice and slow. Somebodyís 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. Youíve just been watching, all this time, instead of coming here and screwing me? You bastard. No, Iím not going to stop. I couldnít stop now if I tried. But Iím not surprised that the condomís 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.

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