Questing4Aldonza
Posts: 58
Joined: 7/14/2004
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I was inspired to write this by iwill’s comments on a previous story, and it’s actually the rare piece of mine that is based on real events.
The Drill
It seemed like I’d only just drifted off to sleep when the tinny bleating of my alarm roused me again. Groaning, my hand flopped around the bedstand until it connected with the clock and I shut it off.
With a muted grunt, I shuffled around in my bed, turning myself to be able to see the time, my hand slipping in under the waistband of my skivvies. Already hardening, I took myself in hand, watched the glowing red LED and waited for the next minute to roll around.
At 2:02 A.M. on the dot, I began to pump. My eyelids opened and closed languidly as my thoughts turned to her, half a continent away. I thought of the latest pictures she had sent me, of her fetish wear, her toys and mostly, her tight, amazing body. I thought of her voice, her laughter, the promises and threats that she made; and the way the two had a tendency to blur.
The minutes ticked by slowly, but I was actually pretty good at keeping up a vigorous pace without pushing myself past the edge. On an earlier occasion I had to quit an hour into it after the tension pinched a nerve in my neck.
But this time I only had to keep it up for five minutes. Just like the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. Each round another test of my discipline, my devotion. And the days soon ran into weeks…
At 2:07 I pull my hand away, taking in one deep, heavy sigh. I’m acutely aware of the blood pulsing between my legs, my frustration a palpable physical sensation.
I sigh, flop my hand over to the clock and fumble with the controls. Setting the alarm for 4 A.M., I pull the bedspread around me and try to return to my troubled dreams.
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The Drill - 
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