I am not a patient person. My lack of patience bites me in the ass more than I’d like.
After my first lesson in coming, I was eager to try again. The next night, I still felt nervous, but no longer scared.
I laid down in my bed, pulled my little shorts off, and plunged my hand down into my pussy. The initial shock of my own hand made me wet. My finger greedily rubbed my cunt, searching for my clit. Faster and faster, my finger moved up and down.
Nothing. I felt nothing. Within seconds, I was dry.
What happened? I began to panic. I can’t do this. Last night was a fluke. Shit.
I stopped myself. Wait, slow down. You can do this. Remember why.
I sat up in bed and took off my t-shirt. I laid down and luxuriated in the cool sheets against my bare skin. My hands reached for my breasts, gently squeezing, kneading, massaging. I reveled in the softness of my own skin. One hand moved down my side to my hips. I stroked my hip bone and the dip into my pelvis. My other hand found a nipple and pinched, hard. A hiss slipped out between gritted teeth. I squeezed harder, pulling on my nipple. I wanted to feel this later.
I let go and both hands moved up and down my torso, eventually finding my wet pussy. Fingers stroking, hands massaging. My back arched, my legs spread further apart.
My middle finger slipped into my wet, hot core – in and out, in and out. I found my clit. My body jolted in reaction. Slowly, lazily, I stroked my clit, back and forth. The heat built. My legs trembled. I felt the sensation build from my feet upwards into my legs. I stroked a little faster. My body began to shudder. My pussy opened wider, gaping. I sped up, unceasing, unrelenting, until my hand was soaked.
I laughed. Giddiness washed over me. I smelled my fingers and smiled with satisfaction.
Patience definitely has its place.