Derriere Diary - Two

Fourth of July in New York City and the thick smells of sidewalk barbecue are swirling through the streets, and in and out of my bedroom window. The sounds of firecrackers and cherry-bombs echo in the neighborhood. Fireworks will come later, after nightfall, when the trouble-makers come out to play. This neighborhood is filled with rebels.

Certainly, I planned it in advance when I took to bed for an afternoon nap with the violet butt plug and small bottle of lube as my slumber partners. I lay both on the pillow next to my head where they could wait for me while I rested, watching over me like strange sentinels.
I really did crave the nap. I was mid-summer tired from the oppressive, steaming cement heat. I never make the time to nap anymore, claiming I’m too busy to take a break most days. A nice short rest in the lazy afternoon would be good for me, I thought. I arranged it so that when I opened my eyes the small device would gently nudge me awake as night descended over the city. If luck was on my side, I’d be able to see the celebration of red, white and blue lights exploding outside of my bedroom window just as I came into wakefulness again. Ahhh, romance.

Behind closed eyes I lay in the big bed distracted by thoughts of your most recent directive to indoctrinate my own behind twice a week. In your absence you have instructed me with a particular training to initiate intimate contact with the nether regions of my body. This, you said, was a preparatory exercise, I am to be readying myself for you.
I am new to this kind of self-affection, but I am obedient.

The violet latex device glared at me from the pillow, like a single unblinking eye, waiting patiently for me to take notice. Sleep was quickly reduced to a lesser priority and my thighs rubbed restlessly together under the covers. I surrendered quickly in the sweet summer afternoon with the sun still high in the sky and dabs of sweat beading off my skin. I spent no time at all teasing myself into arousal when I lubed the plaything promptly and positioned it along the split of my ass.
On my stomach with both knees spread and kneeling so that my shoulders and head rested on the bed and my ass tilted high up in the air. One hand pinched my hard nipple between two fingers while the other pushed the latex rod deeper into my core. I imagined you seated at the side of the bed watching me, hovering over me, eyes cloudy with craving, encouraging me to go at myself. The very thought of being witnessed aroused me so much I felt my own slick juice drip onto my curious fingers.

This new masturbatory tool is impossible to resist. I can not stop the furious hands rubbing against my own sex as if they are not my hands at all but someone else’s, some impassioned person coming to get me. I try to pause and take time in the pleasure. Still myself like a statue to gather my composure and dominate myself with deprivation but I am weak and lustful and fail miserably at self-torture.
My fingers are impatient, like my heart. They grind and rub and search and slide along the slick silky shaved slits and folds of my sex, coaxing satisfaction from my body in long exhaled sighs.