Midnight snack

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Ass

My apartment smells like blueberries and sex. It reminds me of the desserts you used to bake when my ex wife and I would visit for dinner. Your husband always whined about how you only baked for company, and I always had to try not to look at you too much when you bent over to put things in the oven. . .

And now, finally, you’re in my shower, running soapy hands over mysterious curves. I’m outside, undressing. My belt tinkles as I undo my jeans and push them down and off. I pull my shirt up over my head, necklace dangling against my chest. The cool air coming in through the cracked window makes my nipples hard. It tingles. Hooking my thumbs over the elastic band of my boxers, I slip them off, stepping into cotton pajama bottoms that always feel so good against my skin.

I hear the shower stop. Vague movements rustle behind the bathroom door. I sigh at your familiar nearness, then step into my kitchen for a glass of milk before bed. I decide I’m hungry, so I pull the bread and peanut butter off the shelf and start to spread it on. I hear the bathroom door opening, and I say I’m having a sandwich.

I’m bending into the refrigerator for some jelly when I hear you come up behind me.

“Can bahis firmaları I have some?”

I bump my head straightening up, turning toward your warm velvet voice.

That gorgeous hair spills over your bare shoulders, slightly mussed. My towel clings precariously to your damp skin, held in place by crossed arms over your chest. You’re leaning against the doorway, face tilted fetchingly against the wall. I know that face. That face is in my fantasies. It says you want me.

Your arms relax, and the towel falls to the floor around your feet. Your heavy-lidded eyes tease me darkly, half-grinning as you playfully cover yourself with your hands.

“Oops.”

Bad girl.

Yeah, you can have some. I step a little closer, bringing my chest and torso inches from your naked skin. My face dips down past yours. The wet scent of your hair tingles my senses. My lips brush your ear, my tongue tasting clean skin even before we touch.

“Mmmm…” you moan, eyes closing, mouth drooping from my ministrations on your neck. My hands find yours and guide them to my waist, then help you push the bottoms down around my ass and thighs to pool on the cool tile around my feet.

I step out of them, my kaçak iddaa stiffness bobbing with relief. It juts toward you, begging. Your eyes are on it, dreamy and bemused. You reach toward it, your eyes meeting mine briefly, daringly. And then you grasp me with lollipop fingers, your body smiling at the newfound toy in your hand.

My own hand finds your thigh, lightly trailing fingers on the outside, up, down, and then around the front and up again. Your eyes close when I dip into the honey pot between your legs. My cock gets harder with your breath, my touches causing tremors in your flesh. I churn your warm butter carefully with deft fingers, anxious for your pleasure.

Your face and breath is heavy for sex. I pull away and urge you toward my bed, pushing you down to sit with gentle motions. You look up at me again, my thick erection hanging near your perfect kissing mouth. And then you open wide and suck me. Fireworks in my mind go off like crackling gunshots. Your hands are on my legs and waist, pulling me closer, touching my bare skin hungrily. My insides are ecstatic for your touch, your lips, your steaming cunt. And after I few long moments, I have to have you.

Pulling out of your pretty face, kaçak bahis I bend to grasp your knees with determined hands, lifting them up, laying you back onto my deep, dark sheets and spreading wide the curtain of your prize. Your taboo pussy beckons, my manhood acquiescing to its overdue demand.

I slide my body between your silky legs, coming home to warm arms and pillow breasts, our union happening in breathless seconds.

And then I’m there, pressing down my fantasy into 3D blanket realness. I’m writing whole essays inside you, pushing girlish sounds from women’s lips, stealing desperate lifeguard kisses while we drown. We play, we gasp, we ride the moment wildly, and all the while my mind is spinning, barrel-rolling, treasuring the feeling of my sweet forbidden fuck. . .

I climb your mountain with conviction, wasting nothing, tasting everything…planting my flagpole firmly after every upward stroke…climbing, climbing…and then we summit, short of oxygen, breath coming forcefully through the erotic air between our bodies. I see your face go weightless, feel your body tighten from the inside, desperate muscles pulsing around my sex. Your orgasm is my wet dream. I cum for you, deeply, strongly, seeding heat into your hotness while my senses sound applause. Our bodies crash like waves, peaking, spraying, foaming, then falling back down onto the seabed, settling slowly into deep, deep blue sheets. . .

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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