Morning

Sometimes the morning is unceremonious, and you wake up from the bright and coarse light that rips you out of the well of sleep. Sometimes morning begins with eyes closed. When you have not yet opened them, you feel how the new day began without you and cars are already driving on the street, birds are screaming with might and main and the neighbors took up the vacuum cleaner. At this point, you realize that it is time to set off from the twilight coast and say goodbye to the coziness and comfort of a warm bed ...

This morning I dreamed that I was lying in a bowl that looked like a big bowl, and somewhere over my head, water flows from my head (what is it, I wonder?). She, chattering and tickling me, flows coolly through my breasts and protruding nipples. Carefully caressing my belly, it flows between my legs. In the dream, I spread my legs wider and the jet began to hit the clitoris with pleasure. Feelings deliciously raised goosebumps on the back. Here the pleasure became incomprehensibly sharp, strong, and I began to stop frantically. Sleep stretching, began to quickly burst into separate fragments. My eyes disintegrated, and through a narrow crack I saw His brilliant eyes the color of an aquarium. Instinctively, I was a little scared and tried to move away. But obviously (and yes, now I remembered where I am), I lay against the wall, and I had nowhere to move on.

“Did you like the sleeping princess?”

The body, all humming, wet and softened, said that - yes. I felt something hard, juicy and slippery in my crotch. Now I have defined myself that I am lying by the wall. My hand prevented me from moving my head - my hands were thrown over my head. Legs are widely spread. He made a movement with his hand (oh ... here it turns out that I felt) My clitoris, swollen, wet ... from the vibrations sent by him, the body resonated right up to the crown. Having played a little bit with my tip of bliss, he stretched out his hand. I exhaled sweetly. My eyes have not woken up yet. Blinked and strove to close. He put a wet finger to his lips. Looking at me fornication, he ran his finger over his open mouth. His sharp tongue appeared.

- You are so tasty in the morning!

He smiled well, just a charming smile. I'm still sleeping, I thought. And he put his head in my armpit and, inhaling, held his nose to the excited chest and passionately kissed the nipple. Not letting the nipple out of his mouth, he looked at me and said: - “Shtelaesh kof?”

“Yeah,” I drawled. “Will we have breakfast for something?” I asked playfully, grinning from caresses. He sucked, nibbling gently, papilla.

- The milk of your breasts

He gladly ran a thumb over my lips, wetting it, and began rubbing a reddened nipple between my fingers. I was moaning and getting high. I wanted him and turned to him readily. But he, having kissed me firmly on the lips, said, “Breakfast first. Otherwise you won't scream like yesterday. ” Cheeks burned with shame.

- Go to the kitchen, ruddy bun.

He pushed me out of bed. Swaying in dismay and with a sweet weight between my legs, I threw on my shirt and went to the kitchen.

Um ... Put the kettle on the stove. I looked into a couple of cabinets above the sink and in one I found a jar of instant coffee. The kettle whistled as I looked through the dusty tulle of a gray square courtyard with a sandbox, which was surrounded on all sides by foreign cars. It drizzled rain.

I poured a cup of coffee. Now sugar ... and where is the sugar?

- “Where's the sugar?” I shouted

He entered the kitchen completely naked. His cock brazenly looked in my direction. It was brilliant, red, surprisingly large (before that I had not had the opportunity to consider it). A ring was threaded into the bridle, causing me to associate with an angry bull on a bullfight. The spectacle was fascinating.

Smiling, he walked into the kitchen.

- “Well, nothing can itself. Come here, ”he beckoned.

I, feeling like a stupid chick, came up. He took my hand and led me to the table. “Look,” he said, looking at me and not pointing anywhere.Then he picked me up and sat me down on the table.

“Here is sugar,” he showed to my right. My vagina responded with a chill to the cold surface of the table.

"But the coffee." He went to the stove and picked up a cup from the table beside it. I sat, smiling stupidly ... no, not at all stupid - I enjoyed the way he was, remaining naked, calmly and efficiently behaving.

He came with a cup to me. I threw two teaspoons of sugar into it and pushed my wicker breadbasket covered with a napkin from behind my back on the table with my free hand.

I, smiling, asked capriciously, “where is my coffee?”

He pulled away from the thoughtful stirring of sugar, made a surprised face and put the cup on the edge of the table. So close to me that I slightly moved my foot. He looked at the cup for a couple of seconds (well, what a posturing!), Then, smiling, he stroked the table top with his hand, “What a steady, big table,” he said, and pulled my hips towards me.

“And you should still make your coffee,” he said, as if joking.

I was going (well, really!) To say something so clever, but he took me by the shoulders and pushed on the table.

C-sssss! I slightly burned the thigh on the cup.

“Oh, sorry,” he clenched his lips guiltily and looked at me like a naughty child. In his right hand, he took the cup, and with his left he put his penis between my legs, and pushing me a little closer to him, he gently and gently entered the vagina. I reclined, leaning on arms bent at the elbows, and he, covering his eyes and savoring his coffee, rhythmically moved in me to and fro, inside and outside. I heard my voice, more like the sound of some kind of flute than a human sound, which was drawn in an empty kitchen. The head became hard to lean back, forcing my arms to straighten. With one hand holding the coffee, he stroked my body with the other hand, sliding the shirt upstairs. The touches were delicate and sensual, like a satin fabric flowing through the body. My kitty with pleasure and loosening sucked him in and with the unwillingness to let go, squeezing to the last, accompanied him back. And again...

In between my sobs, the blows of the table against the wall could be heard.

“Actually, I don’t eat so much sweet for breakfast,” he said hoarsely, drawing words, “But in this case, let there be an exception.”

He, dexterously balancing a cup, kissed me under the bust, piercing me so hard, that I bent over and he easily left his tickling and wet, such a soft kiss. He, as I have already noted, had a rather large penis, and a hillock appeared over my pubis following the movements of his thighs. Noticing this, he put his left hand on my stomach and began to press to feel his end. (Especially for eroticspace.info — sexitails.org) Feelings have become sharper. I was no longer thinking about acoustics and hitting the table against the wall of my neighbors, screaming, biting my lips without interruption.

He continued to keep the cup in one hand, abruptly entered and left, pressing every time more and more strongly on the pubis. Coffee splashed on the table. He noticed it. I put the cup down and wiped the puddle with the edge of my shirt unbuttoned.

“You're a pig,” I cried.

- "M? ... and yes ..." he said detachedly and began to get so drilled that it hurt me a little. I opened my eyes and looked at him. Exciting sight! Because on his forehead droplets of sweat appeared, his cheeks turned pink, and his eyes were half-closed, I realized that although I could not hear him ... (but no - that was a stifled exhalation) ... he was just as cool as me. He got carried away and so pressed me, as if trying to grab his penis with his hand through the wall of my stomach, that I clung to his hand, ending and feeling myself hovering somewhere high up.

And here, O HORROR !!! I felt something flowing under my back. Warm, but quickly cooled ... it was something (I already, feeling the shame of every cell, knew it), murmured and splashed down on him there. I could not stop, and the pleasure of shocks gushed out of me.

- "Lord!", - I covered my face with my hands.

He, having greatly accelerated, came out of me in a few seconds and finished on my swollen lips, clit, pubis, stomach and everything around. Taking a deep breath with delight, he held out with a smile: “Well, who of us is a pig?”

I made a woeful sound without taking my hands off my face.

- Would you see your precious shirt now, zsyssha

He pulled me off the hem of the table (well, why is he always the master of the situation!). Wet hands tore my hands off my face (having fairly touched my forehead and cheeks - to smear - so to smear myself!) And, kissing me with a wet, dizzy kiss, threw back my shirt collar on the table.

- Go wash your face before breakfast.

He loudly slapped me on the pope, and, having crumpled my clothes, he began to wipe it off the table.

I sadly followed my favorite silk blouse one last time.

He turned around and the place of his toned, puffy butt, I saw a red like a dog, still sticking out a member.

- Should I see you off?

Squinting, he asked in a soft and sweet voice.

I flew out of the kitchen.