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1 – Morning
This story is the first in a series. Part 1 may not be as interesting as part 2. But if you can stick to the end, it is a good set up for what is to follow. I hope you enjoy the series.
Still only semi-conscious, I reach over in the dark to you. Your side of the bed is warm, but you are not there. I sigh as I sit up, bleary-eyed. I see a light outside our bedroom. My legs drop to the floor and I stumble toward it.
I enter the living room. I find two lights on. The smell of coffee wafts from the kitchen where a small light is left on. But only the cat comes in to me from the back door, left ajar so he can get out to the screened back porch. He is silent as to your whereabouts. The only sound is the low hum of the house fan.
The other light shines in from the front porch. Now I know. You have gone walking in our quiet middle-class neighborhood before anyone arises to disturb the peace. Our son has gone to spend the weekend with his buddy as they go to visit the family farm. Aside from the cats, I am alone in the house.
The cat trots back out to the back porch as if I should follow. I grab a cup of coffee and join him. He looks at me as if to say, “Why would you be anywhere else?” I have to agree with him. Early fall in our part of Texas brings cool comfortable mornings like this one. It isn’t cold. A little humidity and a light breeze on my bare arms and legs feel nice.
I step out into the backyard, immersing myself into the fresh morning air. The grass is damp with dew and a gentle gust stimulates my skin. I glance around. Our yard is surrounded by a tall wooden privacy fence. The two story houses around us are dark and quiet. I smile as I set down my coffee on the empty birdbath.
I cast off all my clothes, leaving them scattered around me on the lawn. Free of any covering, my sense of touch is heightened in the cool breeze. The sensations on my bare body are invigorating. I part my legs to allow the breeze more ready access to caress my uncovered genetalia. It feels good. I walk around our property enjoying the glory of the morning. Naked as when man was created, my senses are awakened. I feel alive and free.
I reach for the coffee. Your coffee enriches any experience. I think about you, and your imminent arrival.
A thought crosses my mind and I chuckle at the absurdity of it. In the privacy of the pre-dawn darkness, I imagine you gliding gracefully on your stroll, your lovely form flowing over the sidewalks, your soft red hair flowing in the breeze outside everyone’s front door, completely naked. Confidently striding, your muscles flexing and trembling with each footfall, you are alone as Lady Godiva, feeling the same fresh sensuous breeze over your naked breasts and vulva that I am feeling. And I am your peeping Tom, gazing at you through the slightly parted curtains of my imagination.
The breeze touches me again and I feel my body respond.
Your footsteps on the front porch signal your return. You go to the kitchen for your own cup of coffee. Suddenly, I need a refill.
You hear me entering from the back and laugh as you see me emerging from the darkness, my light skin glowing in the subdued light of the kitchen. Your amusement stimulates me further.
From the top of the back steps, you look down to me. Unclothed while you are dressed, I feel a sense of subjugation. My vulnerability gives me a surprising feeling of luscious disadvantage I have not known before. I think I like it.
“I see you’re dressed for the occasion,” you tease.
I step up close to you at the counter and reach for the carafe. I place my hand delicately around your hip as I pour us both some coffee. I feel you move slightly, receiving my touch. Your face glows from your exertions. I feel your warmth radiating to my cooler body as the texture of your clothes rakes my bare skin.
My rising arousal begins to search for your touch.
“And just what is the occasion?”
“Your return, of course.”
You pick up your full mug of black coffee and turn under my hands, facing me, and lean on the counter. The fabric feels coarse against my naked flesh. My extended penis rubs against thr front bakırköy escort of your shorts. I am warming in your heat. My erection is nearly full.
My hand is now at the top of your shorts on your hip. I reach around you, leaning gently forward into your heat, to get some sweetener. My chest brushes the smooth fabric of your
T-shirt, cushioned by your soft breasts. My arm touches yours as I stir.
“Will you be celebrating?” you ask, innocently.
“I hope so.”
You look into my eyes, seeing my desire. I see your amusement.
“How will you be celebrating?”
“I’ll find a way.”
I lean in to kiss you, but you push me away. Surely, I think, you will celebrate with me. I decide to ignore your resistance. But you continue to push back. When I still refuse to stop, you spank my naked bottom sharply. The smack resonates through the kitchen. I feel a warm tingle spread across that cheek.
I gasp and look into your eyes. My hardness is pressing into your shorts, but you are resolute. Unapologetic, I lean in to kiss you, again.
You swat me again, landing an even sharper blow. The mild sting adds stimulation to the warm tingle of the first smack. My hardness is rigid. I am aroused enough to take you now, but the playful game we have begun beckons stronger. I lean away.
“You assume I am ready to celebrate?” you ask vampishly.
“I hope so.”
“Well, I’m not ready.”
“Okay,” you giggle.
You pick up your coffee in one hand and grab my erection in the other. You pull me down the back steps onto the cool patio directing me to sit. You sit facing me.
“Are you ready now?” I ask.
“No!” You slap me playfully on the thigh. “You’re going to get me ready.”
You put a green gardening pad, left on the patio, on the concrete floor in front of you. You stand, and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and panties. You wiggle your hips as you push them to the ground and step out.
You sit on the chair and raise your feet to the seat. You spread your thighs as far apart as you can.
“Come on,” you say with an urgent, insistent tone, motioning for me to kneel down on the pad to service you.
I kneel before you. Shades of pink color your flesh like a rose. Your scent is musky, earthy. Your outer lips are the lightest shade, nearly white like your creamy skin, but blushing with the rush of blood causing it to start swelling.
The flesh of your darker inner lips is enlarged and protruding, sparkling with your growing moistness like soft ruffled petals glistening in the dew.
The tiny bud of your clitoris is nearly red, swollen and protruding.
Your gaping vagina is like a descending tube. The walls are glistening with moisture as it yawns, needing to be filled. It is like a hungry, thornless stem.
Your bright red pubic hair spreads like leaves around the flower of your sex. I look at it, smelling your aroma. I am ready to pick your fresh lovely flower.
Your face is serious, your gaze piercing.
“Do you like what you see?” Your voice has a tremor in it, like you are nervous about showing me you personal part, like this, anyway.
“It’s like a flower.”
Your breathing gets heavier.
“What do you think you should do?” Your voice is clearly trembling now. This kind of brazenness is not usual for you. I wonder if it excites you.
“I think I should pick it.”
You bring your hands between your thighs and place your fingers on your inner lips. Your eyes are closed and your head is back. You speak but your voice is subdued. I can barely hear you say, “Take it.”
I lower my lips to yours. Gently, I kiss and suck. I press my tongue deep into your recesses, tasting the nectar within. I pull your inner lips into my mouth and fondle them there. Tenderly I nibble, eating your most sensitive parts.
You squirm, twisting and making pouty grunt noises as I slather your flesh with saliva. My lips and my tongue make love to your folds. You hold your knees apart allowing me to remain inside you. I flick, I kiss, I lip your sweet flesh. You are delicious and I enjoy feasting on your arousal. You reward me with more of your juices başakşehir escort which I consume eagerly, happily.
I continue to devour you as your desire peaks. I try to hold you on the verge of explosion as long as I can. You writhe and squeal and your hips begin to flex, humping as I service your desire.
Finally, you can take no more. You clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, stifling a scream, and the picking of your rose.
It’s several minutes before you can speak. I sit in the chair opposite you, watching your body relaxing as I wait. Finally, you glance at me. I am still erect.
“That was worth celebrating,” you gasp.
“Now you can celebrate,” you say, teasing.
“Why don’t you help me?”
You giggle. “Maybe I will.”
You lean forward in your chair. With one elbow on your knee, you reach for my rigid hardness, standing perpendicular to my body. You lightly hold my shaft in your fingertips.
“It’s warm,” you say, slowly stroking its length.
You circle my hardness. I fill your whole hand. You stroke me, lulling me into a blissful trance.
“You like that.”
It seems a long time that you continue working your hand up and down my shaft. I don’t notice you gradually tighten your grip. Holding me firmer and firmer, you increase your tempo little by little, until my eyes fly wide open to find you pumping my shaft vigorously.
You laugh at my surprise and drop to your knees on the gardening pad, now between my legs. With both hands in my crotch, you force my legs apart. You grope my entire genital area, hair, shaft, tip and scrotum, watching my face.
“This is interesting,” you observe with delight.
“You like it, I suppose.”
“A lot. Do you like doing it?”
“It’s interesting to watch your reaction. It’s sexy. Yeah, it’s fun!”
You lean your face in closer and tease my testicles in your tongue before slowly licking up my shaft. With a swirl around the tip, you look up at me, holding my genitalia in both hands.
“You’ve gotten harder.”
“I believe it.”
You lean back in and open your mouth over my scrotum. Gently you envelope my sack with your lips and gently tease my testicles in your mouth. You hold and stroke my rigid member. The sensation is exquisite. I suck a breath and tighten my body.
Releasing my testicles, you tilt your head to place my shaft in your mouth sideways, like a hot dog in a bun. You work up and down my hardness, sucking and licking the sensitive underside. You repeat this several times before moving your lips all the way up my hardness to seal the tip of my penis in your mouth. You stroke the tip in your wet lips, teasing it with light flicks of your tongue.
You hold my shaft tightly, stroking as you begin to suck, pulling my further into your mouth, then out, then in and out over and over mimicking our coitus.
I grasp your head in my hands. Your soft hair dangles and swishes over my sensitive thighs and stomach as you continue sucking and licking me closer and closer to climax. I thrust your mouth as you bob up and down over my bright red hard-on.
“I’m getting close,” I snap.
“Tell me when you’re about to go,” you gasp.
It isn’t long before I begin to twist and twitch.
“I’m about to go,” I warn.
You come off of my penis with a smack. You continue hammering my shaft in your hand, still wet from your saliva and my pre-cum.
You are performing a most deeply personal act on my body. I am on display for you, now. Physically and emotionally bared, it excites me to see you watching me as you manipulate my cock.
Soon my excitement builds to the breaking point. A spurt of milky white semen flies from my penis. It splashes on my stomach as a small eruption of creamy lava pours from my body over my shaft and your hand. It seeps into my pubic hair, matting it with thick globs. Cum spreads over my abdomen and thighs.
Your look of astonishment is priceless.
I lay back in the chair, panting and flushed as you slowly bring my sex down from its summit. You wipe my semen on my thigh, thoroughly cleaning your hand on my skin. You bayrampaşa escort sit back looking at me, amused.
“How was it?” you ask with seemingly mild interest.
“Very nice,” I say.
“Don’t make a mess.”
I press my legs together to keep semen from dribbling onto the patio furniture and floor.
“Can you get me a towel?”
You smile mischievously.
“No. You seem to be doing fine.”
Semen begins to run down my side. I have to block it with my arm. You are amused.
“How are you enjoying your celebration?” you ask, teasing me.
“It was fun.”
“Was? Who said it was over?”
“It’s not over?”
“The party has just begun.”
Your cryptic comment is almost enough to arouse me again. But you seem to know I will need some recovery time before I can continue “the party.”
For now, you have me fix breakfast, still covered in my own juices. At first, it is comically messy. As it drips down my body and legs, it begins to feel sexy, like I’m wearing only my orgasm.
You have me do some odd jobs around the house to take rest of my morning, still naked, still soaking in cum.
“You better clean up,” you finally tell me at lunch time. “I’m taking you out.”
It was time for the celebration to continue.
All I knew was that I needed to dress casually. You dressed while I was cleaning up, so by the time I put on jeans and a polo shirt, you were waiting for me in the living room. You wore a short loose skirt and sandals, with a blouse. I enjoyed watching your muscular legs as you stood up from the couch.
You insisted on driving. You take me to the Mexican restaurant near our house.
We sit next to each other at a table in the bar and order our food. Televisions all around the top of each wall show broadcasts of various sports events, but we aren’t watching them. We are focused on each other, touching and caressing hands and legs.
We finish our light meal quickly and you slip out to the restroom. I push my empty plate aside and notice a shuffleboard match on one of the televisions. Do people watch this, I wonder?
I welcome you back with a smile. As you slip into your chair, you drop a wad of lace onto the table in front of me. I pick it up. It is your panties. You blush as the waitress comes for our plates and sees what I am holding. She smiles. This isn’t the first time she’s seen this.
I find a folded note inside:
“My body is yours for the rest of the day, but only if you do not ejaculate until after dark. Let the celebration continue.”
I feel a surge in my loins.
“Really?” It’s hard to believe.
I’m hard, believing it.
I place my hand on your knee. You look me in the eye as I slowly slide my hand up the inside of your thigh. I don’t stop at your dress and you maintain eye contact, not flinching. I caress you thigh all the way to your uncovered sex. You bite your lip as I slowly massage your bare pussy.
When the waitress comes with the check, she notices what is going on under the table. You blush. I persist in petting your soft sex and you part your legs enough to allow me to continue my gentle massage. Still and relaxed, you appear to converge, just like a cat, content to be pet, subdued by the hypnotic stimulation of gentle pleasure, even as the waitress watches you.
Your breathing becomes shallower and the waitress bites her lower lip, I start to get hard. Her attention is focused on you, watching your head roll, trailing your long sof hair over your shoulders and breasts. Your chest is heaving and your hips roll with the movement of my hand on your crotch.
I see her eyes flash as I stop touching you to sign the bill. I think she’s jealous of me. You are limp in your seat, deliciously aroused. You brush strands of your hair out of your face and smile weakly at the waitress, coyly glancing away. Could it be that she wants you for herself?
We stand and leave, but I am completely distracted by what is under your skirt.
“I like my present,” I say as we buckle-up in the car.
“I hope you can use it,” you say suggestively.
“I have some ideas.”
On the short drive home, I have you pull up your skirt. I fondle and caress your naked crotch. I drive slowly. Your legs are spread wide open for me. You are giving me unfettered access. I know that you have truly presented all your flesh to me. My imagination begins to run wild with things I can do with your body. What will I do, now that I can do anything?
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