Sunday morning
- 4 years ago
- 31
- 0
Sunday Morning free porn video
It was a Sunday morning, I woke up as I usually do, and immediately head for the kitchen. I needed my morning coffee. It's a morning ritual. Of all the things I may or may not be, I am decidedly not a morning person. This one ritual trip to make coffee, drink it, and finally wake up is a distraction. It's a delay- a necessary delay to be sure, but a delay nevertheless from what I actually want to do. And what I actually want to do is be with him. I look across the lake and realize it has only been a week since he left and only nineteen more days until his return, it seems like forever, yet his time here is so short. He travels too much. I tell him it is alright as I try to convince myself too.
However, this Sunday I’m alone, and in my townhouse. I watch the geese begin to wake and stir. Then I notice the turtle family working just off the waters edge searching for a meal. It’s warm here, but I feel the chill of his absence.
He is quite older than I am, and he is one of the very few I feel truly close.
So it is Sunday morning, and I am sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee, and trying to wake up...
Soon, I know what I'll be doing. It isn't something I might do or will think about doing. It's something that I do every morning he isn’t here, and have to do in the morning.
When I awake, the very first cogent, waking thoughts that I have are about him. Through that morning haze of waking up, only those thoughts have any clarity at all. It doesn't matter where I am, or what the day holds. No part of my day can begin until I address that urgent need between my legs and have that pleasure for myself.
Before the first cup of coffee is finished, I can feel the effect, and it starts to take hold. The coffee is strong and I drink it black. In front of me on the table is a newspaper. I'm reading it, but the words are no longer of importance, and I don't pay attention to them or remember them. The need and desire between my legs is taking over, and starting to command all of my attention.
I'm wearing his robe. Slowly, deliberately, I undo the sash, and let it fall away. I gently loosen the robe to where it partially covers me as I sit at the table. I close my eyes, and the fantasy part of all of this begins to form in my mind. It's an impromptu fantasy, and I don't know where it will take me.
I picture him sitting across from me. He is in every way is beautiful to me. His body is sculpted, and his legs are long and inviting. I've often considered his legs to be his finest feature. I suspect I feel that way not only because they are beautiful and sensual, but because I so desperately miss the experience of what is between them.
I lean back in the chair and fully expose my breasts. My fingers gently stroke my contours, and eventually find my nipples, which are erect and inviting my touch. My breathing is enhanced, and I start to moan. My body starts to quiver, and no longer can I deny my true need between my legs.
I part my legs, lower my head, and begin to touch myself. Brief, teasing touches. I'm at that point where I could push myself over the edge and orgasm anytime. And greedily, a part of me wants to do exactly that. Practiced experience has taught me that it will be so much better if I don't.
It's time to go to my study. He and I sometime sleep in there. But this morning, I retreat to the study to see the lake and to take myself right over the edge. Somehow, some way, this seems to bring me closer to him.
Naked, I kneel in front of the window and spread my legs. I masturbate frequently in a kneeling position. About a year ago, I discovered that I possessed a distinctly submissive side. So I kneel in supplication, and begin to pleasure myself. I begin to touch myself. My slit is exposed, open, and the wetness is overwhelming. I probe that wetness with my index finger, and then raise it to my lips. I gently trace my lips with that wetness. I imagine the taste of it to be his. He is spread before me as I pleasure him with my mouth and tongue...
Oh God how I want to experience that! To simply kneel before him and bury my face between his legs.
Any patience that I had before is swept away in that moment and with that thought. My actions take over without thought, and it is now purely instinct. Gone are the light touches, and I'm now furiously thrusting two fingers into my wet canal. That is what it is. A raw, guttural, demanding thing that completely controls my actions.
The sensations are overwhelming. The smell of my juices permeates the entire room. I thrust wildly and with complete abandon. I shudder and scream with each thrust. Yes. Please. Take me... Take me... harder...
The orgasm hits me full on and takes me. I shove my fingers forcefully into my body as far as they will go, and the contractions take me away. They take me to another world, another reality. A place where this earth and all that goes with it are irrelevant.
I don't know how long it lasts. I rarely do. When I recover, I find myself laying on my side on the floor. My fingers are still deep within my body and are impaling me.
I'm about to be overtaken by that feeling of satisfaction and warmth that accompanies an orgasm. And I decide not to allow that to happen. Not now, and not this time. Usually, once is enough. But not now. Long ago I learned how to work through that and not to surrender to it, and this morning I would do neither.
I removed my fingers from my body, and began stimulating my clit with my index finger. I was in a race with the instincts of my body. My body was telling me to surrender, and my clit was unresponsive. I kept working it, and working it. Damn it. Don't give in. Don't surrender... I want this again. I want this again and I want it now.
After who knows how long, my anger and determination was rewarded. I could feel the need and urgency returning. Complacency and warmth was being replaced by raw need and lust.
By my bedside was his hair brush. It had a white handle that was thickest at the end, and tapered down where it met the bristles. I grab it greedily. I knew that his hands held it countless times, and knowing that, I thrust it into me, hungrily. I laid on my back, spread my legs wide, and gripped the bristle end of the brush with both hands while furiously and forcibly invaded myself with it.
I started to pound myself with it, impaling my body with it. Yes! Christ yes. Please, please do me harder!
I wanted this to hurt. Because I knew that soon the pain and pleasure would reach an intersection point. Those sensations would come together, and take me over the edge and take me away. This is what I wanted. This was my dream and fantasy at that moment. After burying my face in between his legs, I wanted him to fuck me hard. To fuck me like you would fuck a whore. Just take me and fuck me hard and without remorse.
Oh God, it came upon me quickly and without warning. It was one of those exceedingly rare orgasms that I live for and pray for. One in which you completely lose yourself, and one where the individual spasms and contractions become one long, unrecognizable full body spasm. I was screaming and convulsing with it. It was orgasm and seizure all as one.
Finally, it subsided. Not all at once. The after aura and spasms let me down gently. In complete opposite to the fury and pounding that got me there in the first place.
I laid there for a while on the floor. I didn't move immediately because I didn't want to, and also from a practical standpoint, I couldn't move even if I did want to.
The hairbrush was still impaling my body. As sanity returned, it occurred to me what a ridiculous sight I must be. Laying naked on my back, covered in sweat, hands and thighs smeared with my own juices, and a hair brush sticking out of my body...
I was noticeably sore. Slowly, I removed the brush, and began to recover myself. I knew the soreness would last for a few days as a reminder of this. So be it. In terms of a trade off or sacrifice for what I had just experienced, this was a very small and paltry price to pay.
I looked at the clock, and was surprised. Morning was about to transition into the afternoon. This had lasted much longer than I thought it had. Soon I would have to prepare for tomorrows work.
Another Sunday morning had passed. I just thought I would share it with you...
However, this Sunday I’m alone, and in my townhouse. I watch the geese begin to wake and stir. Then I notice the turtle family working just off the waters edge searching for a meal. It’s warm here, but I feel the chill of his absence.
He is quite older than I am, and he is one of the very few I feel truly close.
So it is Sunday morning, and I am sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee, and trying to wake up...
Soon, I know what I'll be doing. It isn't something I might do or will think about doing. It's something that I do every morning he isn’t here, and have to do in the morning.
When I awake, the very first cogent, waking thoughts that I have are about him. Through that morning haze of waking up, only those thoughts have any clarity at all. It doesn't matter where I am, or what the day holds. No part of my day can begin until I address that urgent need between my legs and have that pleasure for myself.
Before the first cup of coffee is finished, I can feel the effect, and it starts to take hold. The coffee is strong and I drink it black. In front of me on the table is a newspaper. I'm reading it, but the words are no longer of importance, and I don't pay attention to them or remember them. The need and desire between my legs is taking over, and starting to command all of my attention.
I'm wearing his robe. Slowly, deliberately, I undo the sash, and let it fall away. I gently loosen the robe to where it partially covers me as I sit at the table. I close my eyes, and the fantasy part of all of this begins to form in my mind. It's an impromptu fantasy, and I don't know where it will take me.
I picture him sitting across from me. He is in every way is beautiful to me. His body is sculpted, and his legs are long and inviting. I've often considered his legs to be his finest feature. I suspect I feel that way not only because they are beautiful and sensual, but because I so desperately miss the experience of what is between them.
I lean back in the chair and fully expose my breasts. My fingers gently stroke my contours, and eventually find my nipples, which are erect and inviting my touch. My breathing is enhanced, and I start to moan. My body starts to quiver, and no longer can I deny my true need between my legs.
I part my legs, lower my head, and begin to touch myself. Brief, teasing touches. I'm at that point where I could push myself over the edge and orgasm anytime. And greedily, a part of me wants to do exactly that. Practiced experience has taught me that it will be so much better if I don't.
It's time to go to my study. He and I sometime sleep in there. But this morning, I retreat to the study to see the lake and to take myself right over the edge. Somehow, some way, this seems to bring me closer to him.
Naked, I kneel in front of the window and spread my legs. I masturbate frequently in a kneeling position. About a year ago, I discovered that I possessed a distinctly submissive side. So I kneel in supplication, and begin to pleasure myself. I begin to touch myself. My slit is exposed, open, and the wetness is overwhelming. I probe that wetness with my index finger, and then raise it to my lips. I gently trace my lips with that wetness. I imagine the taste of it to be his. He is spread before me as I pleasure him with my mouth and tongue...
Oh God how I want to experience that! To simply kneel before him and bury my face between his legs.
Any patience that I had before is swept away in that moment and with that thought. My actions take over without thought, and it is now purely instinct. Gone are the light touches, and I'm now furiously thrusting two fingers into my wet canal. That is what it is. A raw, guttural, demanding thing that completely controls my actions.
The sensations are overwhelming. The smell of my juices permeates the entire room. I thrust wildly and with complete abandon. I shudder and scream with each thrust. Yes. Please. Take me... Take me... harder...
The orgasm hits me full on and takes me. I shove my fingers forcefully into my body as far as they will go, and the contractions take me away. They take me to another world, another reality. A place where this earth and all that goes with it are irrelevant.
I don't know how long it lasts. I rarely do. When I recover, I find myself laying on my side on the floor. My fingers are still deep within my body and are impaling me.
I'm about to be overtaken by that feeling of satisfaction and warmth that accompanies an orgasm. And I decide not to allow that to happen. Not now, and not this time. Usually, once is enough. But not now. Long ago I learned how to work through that and not to surrender to it, and this morning I would do neither.
I removed my fingers from my body, and began stimulating my clit with my index finger. I was in a race with the instincts of my body. My body was telling me to surrender, and my clit was unresponsive. I kept working it, and working it. Damn it. Don't give in. Don't surrender... I want this again. I want this again and I want it now.
After who knows how long, my anger and determination was rewarded. I could feel the need and urgency returning. Complacency and warmth was being replaced by raw need and lust.
By my bedside was his hair brush. It had a white handle that was thickest at the end, and tapered down where it met the bristles. I grab it greedily. I knew that his hands held it countless times, and knowing that, I thrust it into me, hungrily. I laid on my back, spread my legs wide, and gripped the bristle end of the brush with both hands while furiously and forcibly invaded myself with it.
I started to pound myself with it, impaling my body with it. Yes! Christ yes. Please, please do me harder!
I wanted this to hurt. Because I knew that soon the pain and pleasure would reach an intersection point. Those sensations would come together, and take me over the edge and take me away. This is what I wanted. This was my dream and fantasy at that moment. After burying my face in between his legs, I wanted him to fuck me hard. To fuck me like you would fuck a whore. Just take me and fuck me hard and without remorse.
Oh God, it came upon me quickly and without warning. It was one of those exceedingly rare orgasms that I live for and pray for. One in which you completely lose yourself, and one where the individual spasms and contractions become one long, unrecognizable full body spasm. I was screaming and convulsing with it. It was orgasm and seizure all as one.
Finally, it subsided. Not all at once. The after aura and spasms let me down gently. In complete opposite to the fury and pounding that got me there in the first place.
I laid there for a while on the floor. I didn't move immediately because I didn't want to, and also from a practical standpoint, I couldn't move even if I did want to.
The hairbrush was still impaling my body. As sanity returned, it occurred to me what a ridiculous sight I must be. Laying naked on my back, covered in sweat, hands and thighs smeared with my own juices, and a hair brush sticking out of my body...
I was noticeably sore. Slowly, I removed the brush, and began to recover myself. I knew the soreness would last for a few days as a reminder of this. So be it. In terms of a trade off or sacrifice for what I had just experienced, this was a very small and paltry price to pay.
I looked at the clock, and was surprised. Morning was about to transition into the afternoon. This had lasted much longer than I thought it had. Soon I would have to prepare for tomorrows work.
Another Sunday morning had passed. I just thought I would share it with you...
Jerri
- 28.07.2022
- 27
- 0
