Can You Be Patient? Can You Be Good?
- 2 months ago
- 6 min read
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The young men stood in front of her expectantly, shifting their weight between their legs. They’d been standing for a good hour before she arrived. No words. Hands at their sides. Naked except for underwear that was largely insignificant. The lighting was dim. They didn’t know it, but she’d been observing them the entire time from a panel in a side door, taking her time, watching them as they didn’t know they were being watched, taking in their small movements, their stamina, idiosyncrasies. The way one scratched idly at his ankle with a toe. The way one yawned and then quickly tried to hide it, stretching his neck.
The one at the far end appeared nervous, and that drew her gaze toward him the most. He was fair, even in the low, buttery light. Long and slim with bee stung lips. He stood the straightest of the bunch. He looked afraid to move.
He was the one.
She pointed. “Him.”
She waited for him in the bedroom. There was a fire going opposite the large, high bed and candles lit around the room. It was dark and warm. She sat in a plush corner chair, hidden in the shadows, and anticipated.
“Hello?” A sweet voice as the door opened.
“Hello?” A hitch in his breath. A small stumble of bare feet on the tile.
“In the corner.”
“Oh.” He laughed. But it was jumpy. “I couldn’t see, ma’am. I’m adjusting.”
“I will. I mean. I am….Ma’am.”
He stood halfway between her and the door. She had a feeling he might turn and run and that feeling made her feel sorry for him but also excited her. She fingered her dress, considering options. Should she try to calm him down or try to extend the moment? She decided on both.
“Come here,” she said. “Sit at my feet.” She patted her knee.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, hurriedly. “Of course.” He walked quickly to her and kneeled beside the chair, his head bowed in front of her.
He smelled sweet and fresh and she couldn’t help herself. She reached out to tousle his hair. He gasped, moaned slightly and leaned into her touch, rubbing up against her hand slightly like a pup.
“Oh, you are eager!” There was no point keeping the pleasure out of her voice. She’d picked well this time.
“I am, ma’am,” he whispered, strained. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to get too excited.”
“I hope not.” She laughed. “Why do you think I chose you?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
She picked his head up by his chin so she could look in his eyes. Wide. Impatient. Expectant.
“Because you’re perfect.”
He bit his lip and smiled.
“Stand up. Take those off.”
“Yes ma’am.” He acted quickly, up off his knees and fingers tucked into the band of the thin fabric.
“Yes? “ He paused. “Did I do something wrong? You said…”
“No. No. It’s just, I should take a little time and enjoy you. Turn around. I want to see your ass when you take them off.”
He exhaled, gulped. “Of course, ma’am.” Began to pull at the fabric again.
“Yes, ma’am.” His fingers shaking a little, he inched it down, revealing a taut bottom a shade or two even lighter than the rest of him.
“Perfect,” she whispered again.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad you like me.”
“I definitely do. Now bend over.”
“Ma’am,” she reminded. “Keep your manners.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Yes ma’am.”
“Don’t you want me to look at you?”
“I do, ma’am. I mean, I do! It’s just…” He halted.
She rose from the chair and stood with her face against his back. “Yes?” She encouraged. She placed her hands lightly against his hipbones, pulling her to him just a little, feeling him sigh into her.
“I’m embarrassed.” He hunched and his shoulder nuzzled against her breastbone. “Ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “But you’re beautiful,” she said. “I want to see you.” She took one hand off his hip and pinched the smooth flesh of his ass playfully. “Besides. I want you embarrassed.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t so much a word as a moan, and he stepped forward and leaned down gracefully, taking what was left of his shorts with him.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad. Was it?” She walked around him in a circle, her hand on the small of his back, pinning him there as she toyed with him. She ran one finger delicately between his cheeks and smiled as he shivered. Once she was behind him again, she pulled him close once more. “Was it?”
“No, ma’am?” His voice was thin.
“You can stand up now,” she said, and when he did, she slid her hands around to his chest and stomach, slowly moving them down his body.
“Oh! Getting a little desperate,” she said.
“It wasn’t a question. You’re leaking all over my hand.”
“Ah.” He groaned. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I am. I am getting very desperate. You’re so beautiful. You’re so nice. You’re being so good to me. You’re making me very, very desperate. Please.”
“Please?” She teased, her voice full of fake pity. “Please? Poor baby. You can get on the bed now, but I’ll have to take my hand away. Just for a minute.”
He hesitated for a split second, and then scrambled up onto the mattress, face up, and she followed, slowly, hiking up her knee length dress as she did, kneeling over his thighs. His cock twitched and flexed against his stomach, leaking out slickness.
“Now, I need to know. Can you be very patient? Can you be very good?” She climbed on top of him and slowly lowered herself down, taking him inside of her.
He groaned. “Yes, ma’am. I can be patient. I can be good. I want you to enjoy yourself, ma’am. Thank you for choosing me, ma’am. Thank you. I can be good. I can be patient. You won’t regret it.”
“I know you can. I know I won’t.” She leaned over and spoke softly into his ear. “You feel delicious. You’re doing such a good job for me.” Then she laughed as he shuddered against her skin. With every desperate moan and whimper, her excitement built.
She moved slowly and carefully, squeezing him, working him, appreciating each sigh and effort, purposefully speeding up to watch his face clench, his hips buck despite himself, and then slowing down to enjoy his frustration, his tortured breath.
He was thick inside of her. She liked watching the silky fabric of her dress rub against his smooth skin, the feeling of it ruching heavy around her waist. She wanted to take more time and stretch out her pleasure, but her body didn’t want to wait. Anyway, there was time. He wasn’t going anywhere. She grabbed his hands and pushed them over his head, leaning over him, into him, rubbing against him as she used him to massage herself.
“Oh, please, ma’am. Please.” He begged, and each word spurred her on.
“Please ma’am, what?” She teased. She could feel her orgasm building, right on the verge.
“Please let me come. Please, ma’am. Please?” His hips rose against hers, trying to meet her rhythm, but she refused to let them. She kept him pinned, locked her eyes onto his urgent ones.
“Oh, gorgeous boy.” It crested over her and she rode him out through it, his teeth biting into his lip so hard there was a drop of blood. “Not yet. Not yet.”