Confessions of a Pouty Brat
It was almost noon and I was feeling like a pouty brat. I knew I had to take Papi to the airport in an hour or so but I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. Silly really, since I had already scored an extra day with him due to some nasty weather necessitating a flight postponement. I felt like a greedy, selfish child. But I just wanted more. I'm that way. Chocolate. Wine. Sex. You give me a little and instead of being satisfied with one square, one glass or one fuck I'll eat the entire bar, drink the whole damn bottle and suck you until I make you miss your plane.
The night before I had fallen asleep in his arms already wanting wanting wanting. His head was resting against my breast, cradled in the arc of my arm, and he had been rolling my nipple between his fingers like an absent minded writer chewing on the end of his pencil until he inadvertently nips off the eraser. His finger tips gradually ratcheted down their grip until he was squeezing so hard I could feel it in my clit. Literally. I wanted him inside me so badly then, and I told him so. "Later," he said. "Later." Then he fell fast asleep as I laid there in his arms waiting waiting waiting for sleep to douse my desire with her darkness.
When the alarm began squawking at 6:30 the brat in me let it buzz a bit longer than usual longing for him to bolt upright and ravish me for hours. Instead he slept like a rock all morning. The brat tried snuggling up to him and pressing her icy toes between his calves... nothing. She tried scratching his back hard like he likes with her stubby nails... nothing. She turned on the reading light and loudly flipped each page as she finished it... he just pulled the covers over his head. Finally she resorted to the sure fire trick of rocking the bed and moaning while she masturbated next to him. She even got out Wanda, who, as you know, has seen better days and is quite the loud lucy of vibrators. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Right about then I went from bratty to pouty. Surely a girl had the right to feel sorry for herself when her papi wouldn't even wake up to fuck her before leaving her for days, weeks, months? Although, in the interest of fairness, I should say that he has certain health issues that render him unconscious in the blink of an eye like that guy who slept under the tree for years and years. Plus, something about the four pieces of toast and plum jam I had given him the night before acted like some weird psychotropic drug that put him in a thick fog for the remainder of the evening.
When he finally did stir he giggled and mumbled something about "Johnny Carson was driving with no windows."
"Oh yeah," I said. "Then what happened?"
"What are you talking about?" he said, squinting and trying to get his eyelids to unzip the sleep that was sealing them shut.
"You said Johnny Carson was driving with no windows."
"You're nuts. I don't know what you are talking about," he insisted.
Clearly he was still under the influence of the plum jam and toast.
Papi's not a morning person - noooooooo sir eeeeeee! - and all of my machinations to get him aroused were just serving to irritate him and make him crankier. So I threw in the towel, or picked it up rather, and went to run a hot bath to warm my toes and get my blood flowing the way I do most mornings. Alone. Just as I lowered my pouty self into the gardenia scented suds Papi appeared in the doorway and said sternly "get out."
"But I just got in," I pleaded.
"Get. Out." he said and disappeared.
I was a little befuddled and confused - but giddy inside. Like when the teacher calls you to the front of the class on the last day of school and you're nervous thinking you'll be humiliated in front of your friends for failing the quiz... but inside you know that you're really about to get a big gold star because you're teacher's pet. I stepped out of the tub, dripping wet, and hurriedly wrapped the towel around me without drying off.
When I got to the bedroom Papi was standing there in my jersey bathrobe and pink bedroom slippers, flogger in hand. How could you not love a man like that? I breathed a sigh of relief before realizing my reprieve was going to be short lived. We had already played with the flogger once before and I found its stingy rubber tails quite hard to bare. But the soft thuddy leather ones had enticed me enough to beseech him to use it on me again. I was hoping to get to that place where nothing else matters that Red described so well.
"Assume the position" he said like some kinky track referee. I tossed the towel aside and threw myself down on the mattress, face first and arse up in the air.
(to be continued...)
The night before I had fallen asleep in his arms already wanting wanting wanting. His head was resting against my breast, cradled in the arc of my arm, and he had been rolling my nipple between his fingers like an absent minded writer chewing on the end of his pencil until he inadvertently nips off the eraser. His finger tips gradually ratcheted down their grip until he was squeezing so hard I could feel it in my clit. Literally. I wanted him inside me so badly then, and I told him so. "Later," he said. "Later." Then he fell fast asleep as I laid there in his arms waiting waiting waiting for sleep to douse my desire with her darkness.
When the alarm began squawking at 6:30 the brat in me let it buzz a bit longer than usual longing for him to bolt upright and ravish me for hours. Instead he slept like a rock all morning. The brat tried snuggling up to him and pressing her icy toes between his calves... nothing. She tried scratching his back hard like he likes with her stubby nails... nothing. She turned on the reading light and loudly flipped each page as she finished it... he just pulled the covers over his head. Finally she resorted to the sure fire trick of rocking the bed and moaning while she masturbated next to him. She even got out Wanda, who, as you know, has seen better days and is quite the loud lucy of vibrators. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Right about then I went from bratty to pouty. Surely a girl had the right to feel sorry for herself when her papi wouldn't even wake up to fuck her before leaving her for days, weeks, months? Although, in the interest of fairness, I should say that he has certain health issues that render him unconscious in the blink of an eye like that guy who slept under the tree for years and years. Plus, something about the four pieces of toast and plum jam I had given him the night before acted like some weird psychotropic drug that put him in a thick fog for the remainder of the evening.
When he finally did stir he giggled and mumbled something about "Johnny Carson was driving with no windows."
"Oh yeah," I said. "Then what happened?"
"What are you talking about?" he said, squinting and trying to get his eyelids to unzip the sleep that was sealing them shut.
"You said Johnny Carson was driving with no windows."
"You're nuts. I don't know what you are talking about," he insisted.
Clearly he was still under the influence of the plum jam and toast.
Papi's not a morning person - noooooooo sir eeeeeee! - and all of my machinations to get him aroused were just serving to irritate him and make him crankier. So I threw in the towel, or picked it up rather, and went to run a hot bath to warm my toes and get my blood flowing the way I do most mornings. Alone. Just as I lowered my pouty self into the gardenia scented suds Papi appeared in the doorway and said sternly "get out."
"But I just got in," I pleaded.
"Get. Out." he said and disappeared.
I was a little befuddled and confused - but giddy inside. Like when the teacher calls you to the front of the class on the last day of school and you're nervous thinking you'll be humiliated in front of your friends for failing the quiz... but inside you know that you're really about to get a big gold star because you're teacher's pet. I stepped out of the tub, dripping wet, and hurriedly wrapped the towel around me without drying off.
When I got to the bedroom Papi was standing there in my jersey bathrobe and pink bedroom slippers, flogger in hand. How could you not love a man like that? I breathed a sigh of relief before realizing my reprieve was going to be short lived. We had already played with the flogger once before and I found its stingy rubber tails quite hard to bare. But the soft thuddy leather ones had enticed me enough to beseech him to use it on me again. I was hoping to get to that place where nothing else matters that Red described so well.
"Assume the position" he said like some kinky track referee. I tossed the towel aside and threw myself down on the mattress, face first and arse up in the air.
(to be continued...)
posted by Curious Pussy at Monday, January 02, 2006
3 Comments:
Sorry folks. I was just so sleepy I couldn't keep writing. I promise to finish the story soon.
Or hey, you can finish it for me if you like!
c.p.
Or hey, you can finish it for me if you like!
Mmmm..
*thwack*
MMMMMM..
Hey there Schiava. Welcome! I sure wish I wasn't just another ignorant American who only speaks english. But alas, I am, so your blog will remain a mystery to me until I can find a good translation program.
Charon, you give the Campbell's Soup moto - mmm, mmm good - a whole new twist!
c.p.
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