Shifting
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Shifts free porn video
It’s nearly midnight and Aya thinks to herself that she should probably be getting some sleep, not standing on her balcony, and definitely not eating a popsicle while doing so. It’s too damn hot in the apartment tonight, though.
The mid-summer humidity had licked an uncomfortable coat of sticky perspiration on her skin while she lay in bed. It made it impossible to sleep. For thirty minutes she had shifted and squirmed on the clammy sheets, her blanket and pillows tossed on the floor. It was futile. So, restless and alert, she had finally peeled herself from the bed and shuffled her way to the balcony for some air --though she wouldn’t exactly call the city air “fresh”-- stopping by the fridge to pick up a cherry bomb-pop.
The pavement on the balcony feels good on her bare feet, cool and relaxing like a pumice stone. The air, though warm, still feels nice on her bare legs. A pathetic little breeze even manages to blow upwards through her night shirt, lapping gently against her undies and at the light dampness between her thighs. She leans lazily over the railing of the balcony and sucks on the top of her popsicle, pouting and smacking her plush, red lips each time she slips the heavenly sweet ice from her mouth.
Aya’s head tilts and eases side-to-side as she looks across the city, her slender, dark eyes absorbing the night. Everything is in silhouette, the yellow and white street lights cast a halo glow over the dark buildings and structures. The light pollution exterminates the stars in the night sky. Aya misses seeing them.
Off in the distance, she sees a shimmer of red and orange light, like the embers of a campfire. Clouds of black smoke rise from it slowly. She had heard earlier in the day that there was a fire at some junkyard by the docks. Aya blinks her eyes slowly as she witnesses the last gasps of the dying flames, then turns away, her attention swaying like a blade of grass.
Aya shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her bare calves rubbing. She takes a bite of her popsicle -- bad popsicle etiquette, but she can’t resist. She chews on it, rolling the cherry ice in her mouth as it melts into a syrup and slides down her throat. A droplet begins to bead at the base of the popsicle. She traps it with the tip of her tongue, applying quick licks against the icy confection as she works her way back up to the top before plunging her lips over it once more with an unapologetic slurp.
The air is warm and thick. It deadens the wave in her raven hair and she repeatedly sweeps and pulls it back, wiping the thin film of perspiration building on her forehead and around her neck. The flavours of the city erupt in her nose as she inhales deeply: smoky, pungent, appetizing, revolting, all at once. She turns her head slowly, switching the channels of fragrances until she catches wind of the vapors from the barbecue restaurant down below, smells of succulent meat and spices wafting to her nostrils. A pang of hunger suddenly swells in her tummy… but the popsicle will just have to do.
Aya sighs. She listens to the cars, a constant white noise din of engines and horns that never ceases. She hears the angry growl, bang, and crash of a garbage truck gobbling up the city’s daily discharge. An airplane flies overhead. She can’t decide if it’s the sound of travelers coming or going, but she’s a little envious, regardless.
The popsicle slowly disappears as she continues to snake her tongue and lips around it with more satisfying smacks and gasps. She sucks her lips in, sweeping the cherry tang with her tongue.
She sighs heavily and closes her eyes. From somewhere among the maze of streets and alleys, she hears a steady rumble, a “rut-tut-tut” cacophony. It’s a jackhammer, tearing apart pavement or concrete. It’s a violent, ruthless, and powerful noise. It unexpectedly stirs a pleasant notion in her head.
Aya lowers her chin onto her hands as they rest upon the balcony rail. She lolls her head to the side against her forearm. She tunes her ear to the drone of the jackhammer. Then she smiles.
Her eyes still closed, she finishes of the popsicle, stuffing the remaining ice in her mouth and sucking the sweetness from it with zeal. She smacks her lips, and slips the stick into her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue and chewing on it with her teeth. There’s still the taste of cherry buried within the sliver of wood. She’s not going to let that escape.
Aya can’t shake the smile as she succumbs to dreamy, sultry thoughts. Within seconds, she feels warm, not from the heat of the city, but from a swell within. Her hand slips from below her chin and drifts down her night shirt. It slides beneath the hem and finds the thin, damp material of her panties covering her tender mound. She caresses herself with the tips of two fingers, defining a line along the silk.
Shifting the popsicle stick to the other side of her mouth, Aya swallows softly. Her sharp brows pinch and a bead of sweat rolls down past her temple.
Fingers curl, slowly scrunching up the hem of her shirt until it lifts above her waist. Her hand glides under the lip of her panties, pushing them out of the way as her fingers draw up and down her soft slip unimpeded.
Aya’s mouth slips open and she groans softly. The stick hangs out, but she clamps her lips down upon it as she hums in selfish delight.
As her attentions are drawn more towards her efforts of self-pleasuring, she turns her back away from the city. Leaning back against the railing at first, slowly her feet slip forward as she settles down to the floor, her fingers ceaselessly busy. She teases her clit with feathery swirls of her digits before sliding them along her slit. Her tummy twitches, provoking a swift gasp of breath each time it does.
Trails of perspiration run from her brows to her chin and down her neck. She fights through the heat around her, yearning for more of the fire within. Her other hand clutches at her shirt, twisting it, pulling it up, and exposing her trembling belly then a shimmering breast. She cups her palm around it, tweaking the nipple before massaging it with a swirl of her fingertips.
Her moans drift into the heavy air and join the sounds of the city at night, mysterious and tempting. The dampness on her fingers, crotch, and thighs fuses with the perspiration drawn out from warm night air. Aya will sort it out later. For now, she’s far too absorbed with the tingling sensation coursing through her now.
Aya allows the popsicle stick to finally fall out of her mouth. She twists to the side, puffing out trembling breaths of air past her plush lips, blowing at the lengths of hair that have fallen across her face. Her legs strain and her belly hitches. She hums and moans her pleasure unabated as her fingers stiffen, swirling relentlessly on her clit.
Suddenly, she raises her palm to her mouth and bites down on it. Her eyes pinch tight. Everything within her body clenches then surrenders to a delicious flood that rushes through her. A languid groan erupts from her belly, through her throat, and past her lips as she spills her wetness against her fingers. Another rewarding wave of pleasurable satisfaction nearly doubles her over and she leans heavily against the balcony siding.
Aya breaths deeply, through her mouth then her nose. She sweeps aside her hair like it’s a stifling blanket. The city returns to her and she is aware once more of the sounds, the smells, the heat of the night. Her limbs and head feel heavy and exhausted. Slowly, she lies down on the balcony floor, melting into the cool pavement. Within minutes, she is finally asleep.
**
Aya is roused by a sound at her front door. It takes her a moment to realize where she is, still lying on her side on the balcony floor. There’s loud thuds from the apartment -- work boots falling and a heavy backpack dropped aside. She slowly lifts her head from her arm, blinking her long lashes as she pulls herself from her dreams. It’s still dark outside, but it’s a greyish haze rather than a deep blackness. The morning is coming.
The air remains thick and clammy as Aya sits up and rubs her eyes. She squints, looks through the screen door, and sees a figure ambling slowly through her apartment. Finally, she gets to her feet and goes inside.
She finds Nathan already in the kitchen, rummaging for food like a bear. He’s opened the fridge, leaning heavily on the door as he sees what it has to offer. Aya stands behind him and smiles thinking he may fall asleep standing there.
He pulls out a carton of milk and pops it open. He leans back and begins to chug it down. Aya crosses her arms and smirks. She knows he’s aware how much she hates him drinking straight from the carton. For today, she’ll forgive him.
Nathan sucks down the last drop of milk and finishes with a refreshing gasp.
Aya moves up behind and wraps her arms around him, leaning her head against his back. She listens to his heartbeat, blends her warmth with his, and smiles. She feels his hands gently pat her arms and rub her hands as she embraces him from behind. For a such a rough, rugged guy, he was always wonderfully gentle with her.
She sighs and inhales. He smells of sweat and tar and gasoline. She can feel the film of grime on his coveralls. Her intuition knows that his muscles ache. They are exhausted, taxed over hours by the rumble of jackhammers and from digging mounds of dirt and asphalt. A mix of pride and sympathy swells within her, awakens her.
Aya turns Nathan around. She reaches up and strokes the rough stubble on his chin and cheeks. She allows his tired green eyes to settle on her assuring face, and appreciates the smile he manages to show to her. He’s a full head taller than she is, yet despite that, she takes his hand and leads him out of the kitchen like a teacher leads a toddler. He follows obediently.
She guides him to the bathroom. After washing his face in the sink, Nathan stands there, heavy, with a weary look. Aya runs the bath, filling it with clean, warm water and soap. Her gentle smile never relents as she turns to him again. He still hasn’t moved. Alright, she says with her eyes. It’s alright.
Aya’s hands reach for the zipper at his collar and pulls it down. Nathan shifts his shoulders with some effort, doing what he can to help her ease his coveralls off and down to his waist. Embedded with dirt, it crumples to the floor around his ankles.
Aya giggles as she again leads him forward. Nathan stumbles out of his clothes. She starts to lift his undershirt up, but he manages to take it off himself. His muscles are round and puffed up having strained and worked all night long. She rubs his arms briskly then turns him around and eases him down onto the edge of the bath. He sits hunched over.
After shutting off the taps, Aya dips a basin into the bath. She soaks a large, soft sponge with soap and water then dabs it on his back and shoulders. The water streams through the creases between Nathan’s long, large muscles. It’s both pleasing and mesmerizing to watch.
The silence is like a veil between them, only the gurgle and drip of the water echoing through the bathroom. It’s not an uncomfortable quiet, though. It’s soothing. Words aren’t necessary.
Aya raises his arm and swabs the sponge from his shoulder to this fingertips, then back underneath to his armpits. She shifts over to his other side and repeats, washing him clean with silent diligence.
Nathan lifts his eyes to her; another appreciative smile slides onto his lips. His gaze never waivers as she moves the sponge along his chest. He leans in close as she bends over to wash his belly, and inhales her sweet scent. Something within the depths of his exhausted body begins to stir. As Aya continues downward, sponging his legs, the spark in his belly is kindled.
Aya kneels down on the floor. She sets aside the sponge to roll down and remove each of his socks. She takes her time soaking each of his feet in the basin and her hand slips into the water. Her fingers expertly ply his toes and massage the soles of his feet. Soft grunts and grumbling sighs tell her that her skills are most welcome.
Aya pours out the basin into the sink and refills it with fresh water and soap. Once again, she kneels on the floor, neatly folding her legs and feet below. She looks up at her man with tenderness and longing. It had been a long night without him, one of too many. Yet, she would never reveal a chink of dismay or loneliness to him.
Her hands dip through the warm water. She rubs them together, a light froth of bubbles forming between her fingers and on her palm. From his ankles, she massages her hand up his legs, along his calves, over his thighs. Her delicate touch sweeps over his hard muscles methodically, completely, as she takes her time. Neither of them feel any need to rush.
As Aya’s hand slip between his thighs, stroking softly with her fingertips, she notes the twitch beneath his shorts. Her supple touches draw more lively shifts from behind and the bulge grows steadily. She tilts her head and eyes Nathan, looking back with a telling grin splitting his lips. With a sing-song sigh, she reaches for the waistband of his shorts and pulls them down and off his feet.
Nathan’s swelling length hangs free as he settles himself on the edge of the tub. Aya washes her hands in the basin again, her sleek, dark eyes narrowing as she smiles up at him. Her palm and fingers soaked and charged with more soap and water, she reaches up and gathers his firming cock in her hand.
His breaths deepen and are noticeably audible as she gently and slowly strokes him up and down, from tip to base. Her fingers encircle him perfectly and his shaft slides through her soapy palm like a piston. He’s quick to softly moan his approval.
It’s warm in the bathroom, from the heat in the air and the warmth of the water. Both of them ignore the sweat beading along their skin and dampening their hair. Aya’s concentration weathers the heat without pause.
As his shaft continues to extend and harden, Aya curves her palm over and around the head, thumbing the tip. Her motions quicken fractionally and she exerts pressure a touch more with each stroke, a momentum of desire and will taking over. Her eyes are so focused on the job in her hand that it takes a finger under her chin to raise her head upward, pulling her gaze away from his cock. Her slightly parted lips are quickly met by Nathan’s and they melt into a passionate, hungry kiss.
Their lips fold and blend, constantly moving. She sucks in his bottom lip and pulls at it with her teeth and flicking her tongue along it. Nathan reaches around her neck, holding her face steady, and searches her mouth with his outstretched tongue. Like his stiff cock, bristling with blood and fire as she continues to drive her hand upon it steadily, Aya can feel the rest of his body awaken, suddenly re-energized and alive.
This is her doing. She shifts a little on her knees, moving in closer, seeking to claim her reward.
Aya breaks from the kiss. With less patience and more deliberateness now, she tilts her chin down and covers the head of his shaft with her lips. She massages her plush buds around the dome with a pulsating rhythm, slinking her tongue into the tip, and corkscrewing her hand down his length.
Within a second, Nathan shifts from awakened to a frenzy, blinking towards the ceiling and grunting curses. Every time -- every time-- it’s as if he’s forgotten how good Aya was at this, each time seemingly better than the last. His head shakes almost in disbelief. Reminders such as this were well beyond welcome.
Aya takes him all in now, encompassing as much of his length as she can in her mouth. Over and over, she winds her lips up and down. She nudges the tip against her throat before withdrawing his cock, her teeth grazing the taut skin covering his throbbing muscle. Her rosy cheeks go sallow as she sucks hard and slurps hungrily. She moans and hums with delight, her wanton voice reverberating from the bathroom tile.
Nathan’s hand wends its way through her wilting hair. He holds her softly, absorbed in the motions of her bobbing head. He never guides or leads. He’d be a fool to mess with Aya’s mesmerizing talents.
Aya’s tongue swishes down underneath his cock, stroking him down to his base. She tilts her head and raised his length up with her hand, opening a path for her suckle on his balls. Her mouth sucks him in and her tongue goes to work eliciting further guttural gasps of pleasure from Nathan. She looks up at him, a deliberately wicked grin on her lips and in her eyes, as she slithers her tongue slowly up from his sack to his tip. She can feel his body shaking. She presses down on his thigh, bracing him before he can fall backwards into the bath.
Aya’s warm mouth plummets relentlessly upon him, over and over, again. Each time she gasps for air, a build up of her glistening saliva splashes down and her hand is quick to smear it all over his bulging cock diligently. She drives through the heat, compelled only by Nathan’s copious groans and grunts and curses, and her own exposed desires.
Her free hand wedges between the tight clutch of her thighs, sliding beneath her panties once more. She rubs her fingers coarsely against her sweet spot with a fervent urgency. The folds along her slit quiver excitedly at her touch and warmly accept her finger that curls past them. Aya probes her inner tenderness, sinking her finger in as deep as she can, massaging and caressing the damp flesh.
With both of her hands busy, Nathan is left to steady himself. One strong hand clutches Aya’s shoulder, the other is clamped on the edge of the tub. He shifts unsteadily in his seat, his balance tested as every muscle in his body strains and tightens. He sounds like a steam engine, sucking in air, filling his lungs, then puffing it out through his mouth between harsh grunts and raspy groans.
Aya is sliding on the floor now. Her knees slip apart on the tile; more the better passage for her hand and fingers along her crotch. She gasps and moans, her mouth filled with hot air and saliva as she breaths and drips over Nathan’s swollen cock. Her over-heated body twitches and quivers beneath her night shirt, the clothing sticking to her skin.
Suddenly, Nathan’s fingers dig roughly into her shoulder. A low, growling groan starts up from his throat until it’s rattling out and spilling into the confines of the bathroom. Aya settles back and freezes, eyes shut and mouth wide. As he pulls out, his shaft tenses, then throbs harshly and releases streaks of thick, rich cum into her gaping mouth. The first jet splashes against the back of her throat and the next spurts paint her tongue and palate with sticky, viscous strands. Quick, unrestrained pulses shoot onto her chin and neck, pasting her skin.
Aya gasps and swallows, the bitter, pungent cream sliding down her gullet. She pants desperately past her coated tongue and glossy lips as she continues to pleasure herself to a rapturous conclusion. Still on her splayed knees, she leans back on one hand, curving her back. Her other hand works feverishly, swirling her fingers along her slit, circling and pulling at her hood. She feels a thousand tiny pinches beneath her sweaty skin. She bites down on her lower lip, holding back the tide raging from her belly, then suddenly bursts out an exquisite groan.
Like a swollen river, she feels a rush from within overwhelm her. She spills freely onto her trembling fingers. Her chin drops to her shoulder, her mouth hanging open as she continues to moan and gasp. Her tummy hitches and flinches, twitching out more delicious wetness. As she eases further back onto her elbow, she massages her sensitive folds, saturating them with splashes of her cum.
Nathan sits at the edge of the tub stroking his cock with his own jism. Recovering, he watches the beautiful culmination of Aya’s efforts unfold before him as the woman settles onto the bathroom floor. Finally, he slowly slides off his seat and kneels at her feet. He leans forward and hovers over her body. Gently he lifts away the hair that has fallen across her face and caresses his fingertips along her chin and soft cheeks, red and shiny from the heat. He whispers his gratitude and admiration, kisses her, then picks her up from the floor.
They share the bath that Aya has drawn. She lies against his chest and in his arms as he rubs the soap and sponge along her body, cleaning off the perspiration and bringing brief respite from the heat. They settle into the water together, both sighing, contented.
Later, as the glow of the morning sun finally touches the floor of their apartment, Aya prepares to head out for her shift. Nathan stands by the door holding her bags as she puts on her shoes. They exchange quick kisses.
“Go to bed,” Aya says, somehow looking as fresh as a budding rose. “I’ll see you when I get back this evening.”
“I’ll try to get that air-conditioner fixed,” Nathan says, a bit sheepish, mostly apologetic.
She shrugs and smiles. “No hurry,” she replies. “There are popsicles in the freezer. Cherry.”
As she steps through the door and into the day, she turns back for one last kiss.
“Bye,” he says.
Aya smiles. “Good morning.”
The mid-summer humidity had licked an uncomfortable coat of sticky perspiration on her skin while she lay in bed. It made it impossible to sleep. For thirty minutes she had shifted and squirmed on the clammy sheets, her blanket and pillows tossed on the floor. It was futile. So, restless and alert, she had finally peeled herself from the bed and shuffled her way to the balcony for some air --though she wouldn’t exactly call the city air “fresh”-- stopping by the fridge to pick up a cherry bomb-pop.
The pavement on the balcony feels good on her bare feet, cool and relaxing like a pumice stone. The air, though warm, still feels nice on her bare legs. A pathetic little breeze even manages to blow upwards through her night shirt, lapping gently against her undies and at the light dampness between her thighs. She leans lazily over the railing of the balcony and sucks on the top of her popsicle, pouting and smacking her plush, red lips each time she slips the heavenly sweet ice from her mouth.
Aya’s head tilts and eases side-to-side as she looks across the city, her slender, dark eyes absorbing the night. Everything is in silhouette, the yellow and white street lights cast a halo glow over the dark buildings and structures. The light pollution exterminates the stars in the night sky. Aya misses seeing them.
Off in the distance, she sees a shimmer of red and orange light, like the embers of a campfire. Clouds of black smoke rise from it slowly. She had heard earlier in the day that there was a fire at some junkyard by the docks. Aya blinks her eyes slowly as she witnesses the last gasps of the dying flames, then turns away, her attention swaying like a blade of grass.
Aya shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her bare calves rubbing. She takes a bite of her popsicle -- bad popsicle etiquette, but she can’t resist. She chews on it, rolling the cherry ice in her mouth as it melts into a syrup and slides down her throat. A droplet begins to bead at the base of the popsicle. She traps it with the tip of her tongue, applying quick licks against the icy confection as she works her way back up to the top before plunging her lips over it once more with an unapologetic slurp.
The air is warm and thick. It deadens the wave in her raven hair and she repeatedly sweeps and pulls it back, wiping the thin film of perspiration building on her forehead and around her neck. The flavours of the city erupt in her nose as she inhales deeply: smoky, pungent, appetizing, revolting, all at once. She turns her head slowly, switching the channels of fragrances until she catches wind of the vapors from the barbecue restaurant down below, smells of succulent meat and spices wafting to her nostrils. A pang of hunger suddenly swells in her tummy… but the popsicle will just have to do.
Aya sighs. She listens to the cars, a constant white noise din of engines and horns that never ceases. She hears the angry growl, bang, and crash of a garbage truck gobbling up the city’s daily discharge. An airplane flies overhead. She can’t decide if it’s the sound of travelers coming or going, but she’s a little envious, regardless.
The popsicle slowly disappears as she continues to snake her tongue and lips around it with more satisfying smacks and gasps. She sucks her lips in, sweeping the cherry tang with her tongue.
She sighs heavily and closes her eyes. From somewhere among the maze of streets and alleys, she hears a steady rumble, a “rut-tut-tut” cacophony. It’s a jackhammer, tearing apart pavement or concrete. It’s a violent, ruthless, and powerful noise. It unexpectedly stirs a pleasant notion in her head.
Aya lowers her chin onto her hands as they rest upon the balcony rail. She lolls her head to the side against her forearm. She tunes her ear to the drone of the jackhammer. Then she smiles.
Her eyes still closed, she finishes of the popsicle, stuffing the remaining ice in her mouth and sucking the sweetness from it with zeal. She smacks her lips, and slips the stick into her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue and chewing on it with her teeth. There’s still the taste of cherry buried within the sliver of wood. She’s not going to let that escape.
Aya can’t shake the smile as she succumbs to dreamy, sultry thoughts. Within seconds, she feels warm, not from the heat of the city, but from a swell within. Her hand slips from below her chin and drifts down her night shirt. It slides beneath the hem and finds the thin, damp material of her panties covering her tender mound. She caresses herself with the tips of two fingers, defining a line along the silk.
Shifting the popsicle stick to the other side of her mouth, Aya swallows softly. Her sharp brows pinch and a bead of sweat rolls down past her temple.
Fingers curl, slowly scrunching up the hem of her shirt until it lifts above her waist. Her hand glides under the lip of her panties, pushing them out of the way as her fingers draw up and down her soft slip unimpeded.
Aya’s mouth slips open and she groans softly. The stick hangs out, but she clamps her lips down upon it as she hums in selfish delight.
As her attentions are drawn more towards her efforts of self-pleasuring, she turns her back away from the city. Leaning back against the railing at first, slowly her feet slip forward as she settles down to the floor, her fingers ceaselessly busy. She teases her clit with feathery swirls of her digits before sliding them along her slit. Her tummy twitches, provoking a swift gasp of breath each time it does.
Trails of perspiration run from her brows to her chin and down her neck. She fights through the heat around her, yearning for more of the fire within. Her other hand clutches at her shirt, twisting it, pulling it up, and exposing her trembling belly then a shimmering breast. She cups her palm around it, tweaking the nipple before massaging it with a swirl of her fingertips.
Her moans drift into the heavy air and join the sounds of the city at night, mysterious and tempting. The dampness on her fingers, crotch, and thighs fuses with the perspiration drawn out from warm night air. Aya will sort it out later. For now, she’s far too absorbed with the tingling sensation coursing through her now.
Aya allows the popsicle stick to finally fall out of her mouth. She twists to the side, puffing out trembling breaths of air past her plush lips, blowing at the lengths of hair that have fallen across her face. Her legs strain and her belly hitches. She hums and moans her pleasure unabated as her fingers stiffen, swirling relentlessly on her clit.
Suddenly, she raises her palm to her mouth and bites down on it. Her eyes pinch tight. Everything within her body clenches then surrenders to a delicious flood that rushes through her. A languid groan erupts from her belly, through her throat, and past her lips as she spills her wetness against her fingers. Another rewarding wave of pleasurable satisfaction nearly doubles her over and she leans heavily against the balcony siding.
Aya breaths deeply, through her mouth then her nose. She sweeps aside her hair like it’s a stifling blanket. The city returns to her and she is aware once more of the sounds, the smells, the heat of the night. Her limbs and head feel heavy and exhausted. Slowly, she lies down on the balcony floor, melting into the cool pavement. Within minutes, she is finally asleep.
**
Aya is roused by a sound at her front door. It takes her a moment to realize where she is, still lying on her side on the balcony floor. There’s loud thuds from the apartment -- work boots falling and a heavy backpack dropped aside. She slowly lifts her head from her arm, blinking her long lashes as she pulls herself from her dreams. It’s still dark outside, but it’s a greyish haze rather than a deep blackness. The morning is coming.
The air remains thick and clammy as Aya sits up and rubs her eyes. She squints, looks through the screen door, and sees a figure ambling slowly through her apartment. Finally, she gets to her feet and goes inside.
She finds Nathan already in the kitchen, rummaging for food like a bear. He’s opened the fridge, leaning heavily on the door as he sees what it has to offer. Aya stands behind him and smiles thinking he may fall asleep standing there.
He pulls out a carton of milk and pops it open. He leans back and begins to chug it down. Aya crosses her arms and smirks. She knows he’s aware how much she hates him drinking straight from the carton. For today, she’ll forgive him.
Nathan sucks down the last drop of milk and finishes with a refreshing gasp.
Aya moves up behind and wraps her arms around him, leaning her head against his back. She listens to his heartbeat, blends her warmth with his, and smiles. She feels his hands gently pat her arms and rub her hands as she embraces him from behind. For a such a rough, rugged guy, he was always wonderfully gentle with her.
She sighs and inhales. He smells of sweat and tar and gasoline. She can feel the film of grime on his coveralls. Her intuition knows that his muscles ache. They are exhausted, taxed over hours by the rumble of jackhammers and from digging mounds of dirt and asphalt. A mix of pride and sympathy swells within her, awakens her.
Aya turns Nathan around. She reaches up and strokes the rough stubble on his chin and cheeks. She allows his tired green eyes to settle on her assuring face, and appreciates the smile he manages to show to her. He’s a full head taller than she is, yet despite that, she takes his hand and leads him out of the kitchen like a teacher leads a toddler. He follows obediently.
She guides him to the bathroom. After washing his face in the sink, Nathan stands there, heavy, with a weary look. Aya runs the bath, filling it with clean, warm water and soap. Her gentle smile never relents as she turns to him again. He still hasn’t moved. Alright, she says with her eyes. It’s alright.
Aya’s hands reach for the zipper at his collar and pulls it down. Nathan shifts his shoulders with some effort, doing what he can to help her ease his coveralls off and down to his waist. Embedded with dirt, it crumples to the floor around his ankles.
Aya giggles as she again leads him forward. Nathan stumbles out of his clothes. She starts to lift his undershirt up, but he manages to take it off himself. His muscles are round and puffed up having strained and worked all night long. She rubs his arms briskly then turns him around and eases him down onto the edge of the bath. He sits hunched over.
After shutting off the taps, Aya dips a basin into the bath. She soaks a large, soft sponge with soap and water then dabs it on his back and shoulders. The water streams through the creases between Nathan’s long, large muscles. It’s both pleasing and mesmerizing to watch.
The silence is like a veil between them, only the gurgle and drip of the water echoing through the bathroom. It’s not an uncomfortable quiet, though. It’s soothing. Words aren’t necessary.
Aya raises his arm and swabs the sponge from his shoulder to this fingertips, then back underneath to his armpits. She shifts over to his other side and repeats, washing him clean with silent diligence.
Nathan lifts his eyes to her; another appreciative smile slides onto his lips. His gaze never waivers as she moves the sponge along his chest. He leans in close as she bends over to wash his belly, and inhales her sweet scent. Something within the depths of his exhausted body begins to stir. As Aya continues downward, sponging his legs, the spark in his belly is kindled.
Aya kneels down on the floor. She sets aside the sponge to roll down and remove each of his socks. She takes her time soaking each of his feet in the basin and her hand slips into the water. Her fingers expertly ply his toes and massage the soles of his feet. Soft grunts and grumbling sighs tell her that her skills are most welcome.
Aya pours out the basin into the sink and refills it with fresh water and soap. Once again, she kneels on the floor, neatly folding her legs and feet below. She looks up at her man with tenderness and longing. It had been a long night without him, one of too many. Yet, she would never reveal a chink of dismay or loneliness to him.
Her hands dip through the warm water. She rubs them together, a light froth of bubbles forming between her fingers and on her palm. From his ankles, she massages her hand up his legs, along his calves, over his thighs. Her delicate touch sweeps over his hard muscles methodically, completely, as she takes her time. Neither of them feel any need to rush.
As Aya’s hand slip between his thighs, stroking softly with her fingertips, she notes the twitch beneath his shorts. Her supple touches draw more lively shifts from behind and the bulge grows steadily. She tilts her head and eyes Nathan, looking back with a telling grin splitting his lips. With a sing-song sigh, she reaches for the waistband of his shorts and pulls them down and off his feet.
Nathan’s swelling length hangs free as he settles himself on the edge of the tub. Aya washes her hands in the basin again, her sleek, dark eyes narrowing as she smiles up at him. Her palm and fingers soaked and charged with more soap and water, she reaches up and gathers his firming cock in her hand.
His breaths deepen and are noticeably audible as she gently and slowly strokes him up and down, from tip to base. Her fingers encircle him perfectly and his shaft slides through her soapy palm like a piston. He’s quick to softly moan his approval.
It’s warm in the bathroom, from the heat in the air and the warmth of the water. Both of them ignore the sweat beading along their skin and dampening their hair. Aya’s concentration weathers the heat without pause.
As his shaft continues to extend and harden, Aya curves her palm over and around the head, thumbing the tip. Her motions quicken fractionally and she exerts pressure a touch more with each stroke, a momentum of desire and will taking over. Her eyes are so focused on the job in her hand that it takes a finger under her chin to raise her head upward, pulling her gaze away from his cock. Her slightly parted lips are quickly met by Nathan’s and they melt into a passionate, hungry kiss.
Their lips fold and blend, constantly moving. She sucks in his bottom lip and pulls at it with her teeth and flicking her tongue along it. Nathan reaches around her neck, holding her face steady, and searches her mouth with his outstretched tongue. Like his stiff cock, bristling with blood and fire as she continues to drive her hand upon it steadily, Aya can feel the rest of his body awaken, suddenly re-energized and alive.
This is her doing. She shifts a little on her knees, moving in closer, seeking to claim her reward.
Aya breaks from the kiss. With less patience and more deliberateness now, she tilts her chin down and covers the head of his shaft with her lips. She massages her plush buds around the dome with a pulsating rhythm, slinking her tongue into the tip, and corkscrewing her hand down his length.
Within a second, Nathan shifts from awakened to a frenzy, blinking towards the ceiling and grunting curses. Every time -- every time-- it’s as if he’s forgotten how good Aya was at this, each time seemingly better than the last. His head shakes almost in disbelief. Reminders such as this were well beyond welcome.
Aya takes him all in now, encompassing as much of his length as she can in her mouth. Over and over, she winds her lips up and down. She nudges the tip against her throat before withdrawing his cock, her teeth grazing the taut skin covering his throbbing muscle. Her rosy cheeks go sallow as she sucks hard and slurps hungrily. She moans and hums with delight, her wanton voice reverberating from the bathroom tile.
Nathan’s hand wends its way through her wilting hair. He holds her softly, absorbed in the motions of her bobbing head. He never guides or leads. He’d be a fool to mess with Aya’s mesmerizing talents.
Aya’s tongue swishes down underneath his cock, stroking him down to his base. She tilts her head and raised his length up with her hand, opening a path for her suckle on his balls. Her mouth sucks him in and her tongue goes to work eliciting further guttural gasps of pleasure from Nathan. She looks up at him, a deliberately wicked grin on her lips and in her eyes, as she slithers her tongue slowly up from his sack to his tip. She can feel his body shaking. She presses down on his thigh, bracing him before he can fall backwards into the bath.
Aya’s warm mouth plummets relentlessly upon him, over and over, again. Each time she gasps for air, a build up of her glistening saliva splashes down and her hand is quick to smear it all over his bulging cock diligently. She drives through the heat, compelled only by Nathan’s copious groans and grunts and curses, and her own exposed desires.
Her free hand wedges between the tight clutch of her thighs, sliding beneath her panties once more. She rubs her fingers coarsely against her sweet spot with a fervent urgency. The folds along her slit quiver excitedly at her touch and warmly accept her finger that curls past them. Aya probes her inner tenderness, sinking her finger in as deep as she can, massaging and caressing the damp flesh.
With both of her hands busy, Nathan is left to steady himself. One strong hand clutches Aya’s shoulder, the other is clamped on the edge of the tub. He shifts unsteadily in his seat, his balance tested as every muscle in his body strains and tightens. He sounds like a steam engine, sucking in air, filling his lungs, then puffing it out through his mouth between harsh grunts and raspy groans.
Aya is sliding on the floor now. Her knees slip apart on the tile; more the better passage for her hand and fingers along her crotch. She gasps and moans, her mouth filled with hot air and saliva as she breaths and drips over Nathan’s swollen cock. Her over-heated body twitches and quivers beneath her night shirt, the clothing sticking to her skin.
Suddenly, Nathan’s fingers dig roughly into her shoulder. A low, growling groan starts up from his throat until it’s rattling out and spilling into the confines of the bathroom. Aya settles back and freezes, eyes shut and mouth wide. As he pulls out, his shaft tenses, then throbs harshly and releases streaks of thick, rich cum into her gaping mouth. The first jet splashes against the back of her throat and the next spurts paint her tongue and palate with sticky, viscous strands. Quick, unrestrained pulses shoot onto her chin and neck, pasting her skin.
Aya gasps and swallows, the bitter, pungent cream sliding down her gullet. She pants desperately past her coated tongue and glossy lips as she continues to pleasure herself to a rapturous conclusion. Still on her splayed knees, she leans back on one hand, curving her back. Her other hand works feverishly, swirling her fingers along her slit, circling and pulling at her hood. She feels a thousand tiny pinches beneath her sweaty skin. She bites down on her lower lip, holding back the tide raging from her belly, then suddenly bursts out an exquisite groan.
Like a swollen river, she feels a rush from within overwhelm her. She spills freely onto her trembling fingers. Her chin drops to her shoulder, her mouth hanging open as she continues to moan and gasp. Her tummy hitches and flinches, twitching out more delicious wetness. As she eases further back onto her elbow, she massages her sensitive folds, saturating them with splashes of her cum.
Nathan sits at the edge of the tub stroking his cock with his own jism. Recovering, he watches the beautiful culmination of Aya’s efforts unfold before him as the woman settles onto the bathroom floor. Finally, he slowly slides off his seat and kneels at her feet. He leans forward and hovers over her body. Gently he lifts away the hair that has fallen across her face and caresses his fingertips along her chin and soft cheeks, red and shiny from the heat. He whispers his gratitude and admiration, kisses her, then picks her up from the floor.
They share the bath that Aya has drawn. She lies against his chest and in his arms as he rubs the soap and sponge along her body, cleaning off the perspiration and bringing brief respite from the heat. They settle into the water together, both sighing, contented.
Later, as the glow of the morning sun finally touches the floor of their apartment, Aya prepares to head out for her shift. Nathan stands by the door holding her bags as she puts on her shoes. They exchange quick kisses.
“Go to bed,” Aya says, somehow looking as fresh as a budding rose. “I’ll see you when I get back this evening.”
“I’ll try to get that air-conditioner fixed,” Nathan says, a bit sheepish, mostly apologetic.
She shrugs and smiles. “No hurry,” she replies. “There are popsicles in the freezer. Cherry.”
As she steps through the door and into the day, she turns back for one last kiss.
“Bye,” he says.
Aya smiles. “Good morning.”
Marisol
- 19.06.2020
- 11
- 0
- Category:
- Oral Sex
